<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24095778</id><updated>2011-11-06T18:34:35.623-08:00</updated><title type='text'>life in chicago and elsewhere</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Molly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03501294367567126688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>24</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24095778.post-2162306092847998847</id><published>2011-01-30T16:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-30T16:40:13.045-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Saludos de Managua!</title><content type='html'>I've been in Nicaragua for 3+ weeks now and I thought it was high time to sit myself down and write a bit about my trip so far.  Things have been going well.  Mostly.  I'm staying at Quaker House as I have for the past 7 years.  For those of you who haven't heard me talk about it before, Quaker House is a hostel in Managua and its profits benefit organizations both in and outside of the city that work to improve the daily lives of Nicaraguans.  It's not luxurious (no hot water, no AC - and it's 90F/32C here) but it is clean and comfortable and I enjoy staying here.  For some reason this trip other guests keep eating my food, but aside from that all is well on the housing front.&lt;br /&gt;Generally I only get to spend 3 or so weeks at a time in Nicaragua, but this time I'm here for nearly 3 months.  While this trip will include a few weeks of strenuous and exhausting data collection, I worked hard to carve out a large chunk of time from my life in Chicago so that I would have time to really practice my signing and get my skill level from "sufficient" to "good."  As you can imagine, it's very difficult to find people to practice Nicaraguan Sign Language with in Chicago!  I've been signing daily and I'm certainly learning, though there's still room for improvement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/TUYErlSdGWI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/Z3rTOhb0YpQ/s1600/IMG_0393.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/TUYErlSdGWI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/Z3rTOhb0YpQ/s320/IMG_0393.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568143136080599394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;In terms of the general situation here in Nicaragua, it's election year here meaning you see Daniel Ortega's face on large billboards nearly every time you turn a corner.  It's been a bit hard for me to gauge the satisfaction of Nicaraguans with Ortega's recent performance, but at least some people seem to think he's doing a very good job.  Others, of course, point to the fact that his seeking another term is unconstitutional.   I can report that I've only experienced one brief electricity cut, as opposed to the daily many hour long ones that have occurred on other trips, and we've had water all the time.  So at least some things are working.  &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/TUYDvXkwTQI/AAAAAAAAAIw/P8RRjQ1ySXE/s1600/IMG_0390.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/TUYDvXkwTQI/AAAAAAAAAIw/P8RRjQ1ySXE/s320/IMG_0390.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568142101607107842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;In non-political news, we had a very brief earthquake about a week ago.  It did no damage and caused no deaths, but it did get my attention.  I hadn't been in one since I lived in California as a kid, but given that Managua is *right* on a fault, I was bound to feel one here eventually.  I'm happy to report that I still had the instinct to go stand in a doorway/get under a table.  So I guess all those elementary school earthquake drills worked!&lt;br /&gt;A major benefit of my being here longer is that I've actually had time to participate in some non-work activities.  Like my first Nicaraguan baseball game.  By far the most common game to see children playing in the street is baseball. As I love baseball, and Nicaragua loves baseball, and it's playoff season here, it seemed like high time that I attend a game.  &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/TUYELGPE2nI/AAAAAAAAAJA/vAuMp2wSAoI/s1600/IMG_0410.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/TUYELGPE2nI/AAAAAAAAAJA/vAuMp2wSAoI/s320/IMG_0410.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568142577989114482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The team from Managua is called the Bóer and they have exactly same logo as the Cleveland Indians.  If anyone has ideas about the name I'd be very happy to hear them.  The only &lt;span&gt;Bóers I know about were Dutch people in South Africa.  Anyway, the game was quite an experience. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt; The Spanglish baseball terms made me smile (i.e. outs, strikes, and "bolas"). We got bleacher seats at the National Stadium which were 75 cents each. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/TUYEXE723cI/AAAAAAAAAJI/GoEkU2oT73E/s1600/IMG_0426.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/TUYEXE723cI/AAAAAAAAAJI/GoEkU2oT73E/s320/IMG_0426.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568142783798500802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span&gt; We were rather far away (I think next time I'll spring for a $4 seat), but the game was highly amusing anyway.  Because we were in the bleachers the players were small (no jumbotron) and we couldn't hear the announcer, but luckily I know my baseball so I only occasionally had trouble following what was going on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;  The game was close until the 8th inning when the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Bóer pulled ahead to win.  And then one week later the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Bóer won it all.  Nicaraguan champions!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24095778-2162306092847998847?l=nomadicmolly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/feeds/2162306092847998847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24095778&amp;postID=2162306092847998847' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/2162306092847998847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/2162306092847998847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/2011/01/saludos-de-managua.html' title='Saludos de Managua!'/><author><name>Molly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03501294367567126688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/TUYErlSdGWI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/Z3rTOhb0YpQ/s72-c/IMG_0393.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24095778.post-5428820496510448407</id><published>2008-11-09T17:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-09T18:26:20.051-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Obama!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/SReWSIFyU-I/AAAAAAAAAFU/ODQsp5NlD0Y/s1600-h/Obama+Ticket.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 203px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/SReWSIFyU-I/AAAAAAAAAFU/ODQsp5NlD0Y/s320/Obama+Ticket.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266843527386649570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Nearly a week after Obama became the president-elect I finally have a few minutes to sit down and write about that amazing day.  The weather was warm and sunny, quite unusual for Chicago in November.  I got up in the morning, donned my Obama shirt from the rally in Iowa back in January, and headed out to vote with Eileen in tow.  We arrived at my polling place at about 10:30 am, ready to wait in a very long line.  Lucky for me though, I waked right in (after covering up my Obama colors), voted, and walked right out.  My only complaint was that I did not get an “I voted” sticker.  I was quite tempted to sello/scotchtape the “voting receipt” they did give me to my shirt.  The rest of the day was busy and it was tough not to keep thinking about the election.&lt;br /&gt;Evening finally came.   After a bit of confusion over tickets, we all managed to get our “printable election night event ticket” and the SGM lab group headed down to Grant Park wearing much Obama gear, hopeful but nervous.  When we arrived at the park we saw that it was an absolute mob scene.  But the mob was spunky and friendly and excited and HOPEful.  We made our way past a series of check points, at one of which they threatened to take away Marie’s cookies, and eventually found yourself in the field where Obama was to speak.  We somehow did not manage to get into the inner-inner area, but we did have quite a good view of the huge screen and a bit of a view of the stage from our vantage point.  And, most importantly, we were right in the middle of the incredible atmosphere. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/SReWxfoHfEI/AAAAAAAAAFc/huposSrgXfs/s1600-h/IMG_6711.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/SReWxfoHfEI/AAAAAAAAAFc/huposSrgXfs/s320/IMG_6711.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266844066280602690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few hours of standing (and getting some sore feet) and watching electoral vote “projections” roll in from CNN for various states, things were looking better and better, and the crowd was getting more and more excited.  And then when the California polls closed we saw it, “CNN projects Obama win”.  And we all went insane.  Crying, hugging, kissing, clapping, screaming, praying, it was absolutely amazing.  I shed more than a few tears myself.  Strangely it felt a bit like being in New York on 9/11, with the emotions exactly reversed.  A sharing something with everyone around you, and knowing just how everyone else feels.  It’s hard to describe.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/SReXU3DhIXI/AAAAAAAAAFs/PeJ-Bu_ElHs/s1600-h/IMG_6724.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/SReXU3DhIXI/AAAAAAAAAFs/PeJ-Bu_ElHs/s320/IMG_6724.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266844673864966514" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/SReXh3JEobI/AAAAAAAAAF0/Nqot9LlppSk/s1600-h/IMG_6726.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/SReXh3JEobI/AAAAAAAAAF0/Nqot9LlppSk/s320/IMG_6726.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266844897226564018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;After the screaming and cheering died down a bit we watched McCain’s gracious concession speech, and began the wait to hear from the future 44th President of the United States of America.   When Obama did come out and speak the crowd again went wild.  His inspiring speech made me feel again what I first felt at that rally in Des Moines, that things in this country CAN get better. It may be cliché, but that doesn't make it any less true.  After having spent my entire voting with Bush in office such optimism is remarkable and unfamiliar to me.  I am proud of my country for the first time in my adult life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/SReXrd1JDyI/AAAAAAAAAF8/nq2tsE37fk0/s1600-h/IMG_6725_2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/SReXrd1JDyI/AAAAAAAAAF8/nq2tsE37fk0/s320/IMG_6725_2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266845062230773538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/SReXxZMI4hI/AAAAAAAAAGE/heUvNRb4ygs/s1600-h/IMG_6733.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/SReXxZMI4hI/AAAAAAAAAGE/heUvNRb4ygs/s320/IMG_6733.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266845164064268818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24095778-5428820496510448407?l=nomadicmolly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/feeds/5428820496510448407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24095778&amp;postID=5428820496510448407' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/5428820496510448407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/5428820496510448407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/2008/11/obama.html' title='Obama!'/><author><name>Molly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03501294367567126688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/SReWSIFyU-I/AAAAAAAAAFU/ODQsp5NlD0Y/s72-c/Obama+Ticket.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24095778.post-4918833124621264251</id><published>2008-09-12T08:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T09:15:27.549-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wrapping up 2 years in Britain</title><content type='html'>I just have a just one more week in the UK, and since I've been such a bad blogger I won't even try for an all inclusive post here.  Instead just a few overall impressions.  This year has been full of travel, Christmas in New York and Iowa, back to the US to for PhD interviewing in February, a conference in Barcelona in March, a June week in in Kosova for Nita's wedding, a week in the Czech Republic and Germany with Eileen's family, a week in August in California with mine, a weekend in Bratislava, back to Germany for a wedding, and lots of short trips up to Edinburgh via train to see friends.  These trips have been (mostly) wonderful.  In between I have spent a bit of time at home in Manchester.  Living in the UK has been a challenging experience these last few years.  It's so beautiful and green, and completely charming, but also in equal part aggravating.  Expectations are just different here.  As an American I expect things to work, and work quickly, all the time.  If something does not work I get annoyed and expect it to be fixed promptly.  Not so here.  Case in point, Eileen's and my flat/apartment.  We had our heat "fixed" about 4 times this winter and still needed socks, blankets, hoodies and hot water bottles to keep warm.  We had one major flood and one minor one.  Mold grew on the wall.  Three time.  It was so damp in the flat/apartment that our clothes never dried properly and started to smell.  We had to wipe down the windows twice a day to keep accumulated moisture from running down the wall in streams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I don't want to dwell on that.  I am truly an incurable optimist and I did a reasonably good job of not letting Britain's quirks (why no mixed taps?!) get me down.  I have met so many great people here in my program in Edinburgh, and then working and learning British Sign Language in Manchester, even if I don't drink enough for proper British bonding.  And perhaps most fun of all for me has been being surrounded by other Englishes for the last two years.  I love noticing the differences between others' dialects of English and mine.  I'll give just a few of my favorites, especially the ones one is unlikely to hear on a short trip here, which hopefully will give a little flavor of my life these last few years. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Britain you can "talk English" as well as speak it.  In British English you can "fall pregnant", and if you really fall you use a "plaster" to cover your wound.  When you want to thank someone you have several choices, you can choose "thank you" but "cheers" or "ta" also works in less formal situations.  "Ta" in particular is a great word.  You also use it a lot when playing with babies in order to get them to give you whatever they are holding.  And it for many of them it makes them seemingly magically release their previous grip-o'-death hold.  And speaking of babies, here they suck on "dummies", and are pushed in prams or push chairs or buggies.  Children of all ages are very often "cheeky".   If you aren't too focused you are "all over the shop."  Things that are drawn out and irritating are often described as "a bit of a faff".  And "the way forward" generally is that which involves the least faffing.   If you are superstitious here you "touch wood" instead of knocking on it, and if you are good gardener your fingers are green, not your thumb.  You pick up your prescription at the "chemist" and fix any written in ink errors with "tipex".  Cities often have their own adjectives, Mancunian (Manchester), Glaswegian (Glasgow), and Liverpudlian (Liverpool) are some of my favorites.      &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beyond just vocabulary differences, in Mancunian English if you want to know something you can ask someone to "tell it me" or if you want something to "give it me".  Collective nouns (those which refer to groups) are plural here so if Italy plays China in football/soccer then you would say "Italy win", not wins.  Perhaps the Britishism "different to" (not from or than) American English caused me the most trouble is "You alright?".  Sounds just like American English, but deceptively its meaning is much more along the lines of "hello" than what's wrong?  Got to figure that one out quickly or you might think that all Brits think you look particularly out of sorts all the time.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will miss life on this beautiful but often dysfunctional island, especially the caramel bars, Pimm's, regular tea breaks, unlimited monthly cinema/movie passes, friendly bus drivers, and speedy, scenic train travel.  I'll certainly be back to visit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24095778-4918833124621264251?l=nomadicmolly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/feeds/4918833124621264251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24095778&amp;postID=4918833124621264251' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/4918833124621264251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/4918833124621264251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-just-have-just-one-more-week-in-uk.html' title='Wrapping up 2 years in Britain'/><author><name>Molly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03501294367567126688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24095778.post-3745408447263320040</id><published>2008-01-04T17:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-04T17:37:46.313-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Iowa Caucus</title><content type='html'>Well for anyone not on facebook, here's a bit of what it's been like to be in Des Moines caucusing in the Iowa caucus:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Complete and utter chaos.  Welcome to Iowa.  &lt;br /&gt;That was how the meeting of my precinct closed. And the caucus most certainly was. Everyone (470 people!) packed into a high school cafeteria. The assembled group included the governor and attorney general of Iowa. First, all 470 of us had to count off, which took at least 20 minutes. I was 182. And then the "electioneering" began. I started off at Kucinich. He had 12 supporters initially, but by the first count was down to 5. 71 people were required for "viability" so after the first count I had to decide where to go instead. Several supporters of other candidates headed over to try to persuade us to come to their groups. Then a plot began to emerge. All of the non-Hillary non-Obama supporters were asked to join together to make Edwards viable (he needed about 19 more people). And it worked. He became viable.&lt;br /&gt;After 15 minutes of this "discussion" I joined the Obama horde. In the end my precinct gave 5 delegates to Obama, 2 to Edwards, and 2 to Hillary. Now my whole family is watching the results from the other precincts roll in on TV.&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe that this crazy process has such an enormous effect on how American chooses a president. America. &lt;br /&gt;More on general info about the Iowa caucus here if you're interested:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iowa_caucus&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24095778-3745408447263320040?l=nomadicmolly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/feeds/3745408447263320040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24095778&amp;postID=3745408447263320040' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/3745408447263320040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/3745408447263320040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/2008/01/iowa-caucus.html' title='Iowa Caucus'/><author><name>Molly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03501294367567126688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24095778.post-5227390466996103689</id><published>2007-12-09T02:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-09T06:13:09.908-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Life in the UK, Year 2</title><content type='html'>Well it has been AGES since I updated my blog.  As a result, perhaps no one will even read this, but should you find yourself here at my page here’s a quick update on my life in the UK.&lt;br /&gt;In September I moved to Manchester, England.  I am working here at the Max Planck Child Study Centre at the University of Manchester.  &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/R1vFA9_ETEI/AAAAAAAAAD0/FJTVbp96mbE/s1600-h/IMG_2992.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/R1vFA9_ETEI/AAAAAAAAAD0/FJTVbp96mbE/s320/IMG_2992.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141920020003310658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/R1vE6t_ETDI/AAAAAAAAADs/ezOQeiVC5FM/s1600-h/IMG_2869.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/R1vE6t_ETDI/AAAAAAAAADs/ezOQeiVC5FM/s320/IMG_2869.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141919912629128242" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; It’s a child language lab doing very interesting and unique work on acquisition.  Basically what I do is run experiments with little kiddies.  They seem to have little trouble with my accent, but I have to say a 3-year-old, Mancunian English is, well, challenging.  Eileen and I are living in an area called West Didsbury, which is apparently the posh area of Manchester.  We did not know this when we moved in, all we knew was that it was cheaper than Edinburgh and our street was nice and leafy (see pictures).  &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/R1vFLd_ETFI/AAAAAAAAAD8/9s8E7TaGnLc/s1600-h/IMG_2998.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/R1vFLd_ETFI/AAAAAAAAAD8/9s8E7TaGnLc/s320/IMG_2998.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141920200391937106" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/R1vFVt_ETGI/AAAAAAAAAEE/nEyIh9r323M/s1600-h/IMG_3000.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/R1vFVt_ETGI/AAAAAAAAAEE/nEyIh9r323M/s320/IMG_3000.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141920376485596258" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/R1vFfN_ETHI/AAAAAAAAAEM/56tCtVjQ_WA/s1600-h/IMG_3003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/R1vFfN_ETHI/AAAAAAAAAEM/56tCtVjQ_WA/s320/IMG_3003.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141920539694353522" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; And we have plenty of room for visitors!  Now, you may be rather unfamiliar with the notion of Manchester as a tourist destination, but here are a few reasons why you really should come see me:&lt;br /&gt;1)Sampling the amazing variety of fried chicken restaurants.  You can take your pick, Krunchy Fried Chicken, Kansas Fried Chicken, or (my personal favorite) Kingtuky Fried Chicken, they’re all here.&lt;br /&gt;2)The Curry Mile.  That’s right, a mile of curry places.  Well I’m not sure if it’s really whole mile, but there are A LOT of restaurants.   &lt;br /&gt;3)The architecture.  After an IRA bomb destroyed the city center in the 90s, it was all rebuilt in style.  Indeed the interesting and experimental architecture can be found all over the city.&lt;br /&gt;4)Manchester United.  The most popular football/soccer team in the world.  At least according to their website.  &lt;br /&gt;5)Liverpool is only an hour away on the train.  Home of the Beatles and European Capital of Culture 2008!&lt;br /&gt;6)The Whitworth, the Lowry, and the Imperial War Museum.  Plenty to do during your visit.  &lt;br /&gt;And in other recent happenings, I graduated!  Though I finished my dissertation in August, graduation was just last week.  It was wonderful to be back up in Edinburgh, seeing all of my friends there who I’ve really missed (and who should really come down to Manchester for a few days!!).  &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/R1vF_d_ETII/AAAAAAAAAEU/XdfS19jsIqg/s1600-h/IMG_3145.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/R1vF_d_ETII/AAAAAAAAAEU/XdfS19jsIqg/s320/IMG_3145.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141921093745134722" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; A few observations from the ceremony.  British graduation gowns don’t zip up the front.  Rather, they attach to the button on your shirt and pull your shirt up constantly.  Not the best of solutions I think.  They do have appropriately funny hoods and sleeves though.  Also, at Edinburgh you do not graduate by shaking the president’s/principal’s hand.  Instead they tap you on the head with a bonnet made from John Knox’s breeches.  Pretty strange, but it’s got character.&lt;br /&gt;I also attempted Thanksgiving dinner #2 while in Edinburgh, with some amazing help from Eileen and her mom.  Everything went much smoother this year.  &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/R1vGJd_ETJI/AAAAAAAAAEc/j8rLUdjptyc/s1600-h/IMG_3195.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/R1vGJd_ETJI/AAAAAAAAAEc/j8rLUdjptyc/s320/IMG_3195.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141921265543826578" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; In terms of improvements, I bought a turkey with a cavity and legs, we had a MUCH better kitchen to use (thank you Ljupka!!), and dinner was ready at 6pm (instead of 11)!  Everything smoothly and catching up with friends in Edinburgh during dinner was so much fun.  &lt;br /&gt;Hope everyone’s holiday season is going well!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/R1vGQN_ETKI/AAAAAAAAAEk/XJZUASoHwZA/s1600-h/IMG_3212.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/R1vGQN_ETKI/AAAAAAAAAEk/XJZUASoHwZA/s320/IMG_3212.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141921381507943586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24095778-5227390466996103689?l=nomadicmolly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/feeds/5227390466996103689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24095778&amp;postID=5227390466996103689' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/5227390466996103689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/5227390466996103689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/2007/12/life-in-uk-year-2.html' title='Life in the UK, Year 2'/><author><name>Molly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03501294367567126688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/R1vFA9_ETEI/AAAAAAAAAD0/FJTVbp96mbE/s72-c/IMG_2992.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24095778.post-5022594740824795100</id><published>2007-07-21T04:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-21T05:06:45.187-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What gives?</title><content type='html'>Okay, as I sit here in my flat in Edinburgh it's gray outside.  And 55F (13C).  It's JULY!!!!  I want to wear sandals!  And skirts!  And not have to wear socks all the time inside so as not to be cold!  Nicaragua was clearly too warm, but I really could use a little summer here in Scotland.  Everyone keeps telling me this is the worst summer ever.  Thus continues my run of *fabulous* luck since moving to Scotland I suppose.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway.  Nicaragua update coming soon.  As soon as I need another dissertation reading/writing break.  Which is likely to be very soon.  And hopefully job and next year's plans next week!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24095778-5022594740824795100?l=nomadicmolly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/feeds/5022594740824795100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24095778&amp;postID=5022594740824795100' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/5022594740824795100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/5022594740824795100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/2007/07/what-gives.html' title='What gives?'/><author><name>Molly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03501294367567126688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24095778.post-8333708731471200600</id><published>2007-07-01T09:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-13T20:28:34.498-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Deep in the Heart of Texas</title><content type='html'>Well isn't air travel fun?  After a pretty terrible arrival/check-in experience at Gatwick, I finally got to Houston (9+ hours by the way, ouch!).  Then I ran to immigration, where I was greeted by an enormous line.  Why is it that the US-citizen line in US airports is so often longer than the non-EU line in the EU?  Then I ran to get my bag and tried to make it through customs, only to have an employee who looked at my connecting boarding pass say, you'll never make it.  So I went back to the baggage claim and got my boarding pass for the next flight to Managua, 24-hours later, and had the woman there tell me that if ran I might just make it.  Then again the baggage recheck man, said I'd missed it.  So I got myself rebooked on the next flight, scrounged up some American change to call Annie and ask her to call Quaker House to tell them I wouldn't be arriving as planned, and then caught the hotel shuttle to the Marriott Greenspoint.&lt;br /&gt;My room had two big, fluffy double beds and a tv and all the standard, could be anywhere in the US, gear.  But it also had wireless internet, meaning I could catch up on some emailing and blog.  And remember that there really is never anything on TV.  Though I did hear a wide variety of amusing American pronunciations of "Glasgow" and hear the sentence: "this has just gone to Glasgow, now just the UK".  Ahhhh, I guess the New Yorker subscription people are not the only ones who aren't aware the "the UK" is made up of places in including Scotland!&lt;br /&gt;So now it's easy listening jazz and a snached breakfast bagel for lunch in the lobby until it's time for me to head back to the airport and, hopefully, to Managua.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24095778-8333708731471200600?l=nomadicmolly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/feeds/8333708731471200600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24095778&amp;postID=8333708731471200600' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/8333708731471200600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/8333708731471200600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/2007/07/deep-in-heart-of-texas.html' title='Deep in the Heart of Texas'/><author><name>Molly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03501294367567126688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24095778.post-7006964372418498895</id><published>2007-06-18T05:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-18T05:34:09.408-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Moving.  Again.</title><content type='html'>Well it seems that Scotland doesn't like me very much.  And the feeling is becoming mutual I have to say.  I've not been having the best luck of late here.  After getting my application rejected (without explanation) to work with kids here for my dissertation study, we are now getting booted out of our flat.  The landlord apparently wants to sell it, which leaves us homeless for the last month of dissertation writing and for the Fringe in Edinburgh.  Great timing.  This means I will have lived in 4 places here in 12 months.  And I thought I might actually not be moving much this year.  Wishful thinking I guess.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, that means I'll be sending out a new address soonish.  I'm starting to look forward more and more to getting out of this country for a few weeks, I have to say.  Nicaragua here I come.  Perhaps I when I return I will again be able to enjoy the far-from-hot (one might say chilly even) weather in this unarguably lovely city.  I hope.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24095778-7006964372418498895?l=nomadicmolly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/feeds/7006964372418498895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24095778&amp;postID=7006964372418498895' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/7006964372418498895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/7006964372418498895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/2007/06/moving-again.html' title='Moving.  Again.'/><author><name>Molly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03501294367567126688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24095778.post-2988347703619184028</id><published>2007-04-28T04:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-29T14:34:04.833-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Edinburgh and the new flat</title><content type='html'>Just a few photos of our new flat/apartment (well, new as of 6 weeks ago).  And our neighborhood.&lt;br /&gt;(see previous post for a picture of my room)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/RjMsSQ6UGrI/AAAAAAAAABE/0oUG5lTnDZ4/s1600-h/100_0587.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/RjMsSQ6UGrI/AAAAAAAAABE/0oUG5lTnDZ4/s320/100_0587.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058435498756020914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Eileen's room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/RjMtQA6UGzI/AAAAAAAAACE/62QS2ipwXb4/s1600-h/100_0599.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/RjMtQA6UGzI/AAAAAAAAACE/62QS2ipwXb4/s320/100_0599.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058436559612943154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;View from Eileen's room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/RjMsSQ6UGsI/AAAAAAAAABM/61I3fb2J44c/s1600-h/100_0590.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/RjMsSQ6UGsI/AAAAAAAAABM/61I3fb2J44c/s320/100_0590.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058435498756020930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Nita's room, during exam time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/RjMsSg6UGuI/AAAAAAAAABc/yARdl5VyzV0/s1600-h/IMG_1745.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/RjMsSg6UGuI/AAAAAAAAABc/yARdl5VyzV0/s320/IMG_1745.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058435503050988258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;View from my room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/RjMtPw6UGwI/AAAAAAAAABs/3S6aljq4Z-k/s1600-h/IMG_2346.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/RjMtPw6UGwI/AAAAAAAAABs/3S6aljq4Z-k/s320/IMG_2346.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058436555317975810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Our doorbell.  Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/RjMtPw6UGxI/AAAAAAAAAB0/7pXMxPx9NEM/s1600-h/IMG_2353.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/RjMtPw6UGxI/AAAAAAAAAB0/7pXMxPx9NEM/s320/IMG_2353.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058436555317975826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The meadows (just down the street).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/RjMtPw6UGyI/AAAAAAAAAB8/tmRPVAJlTDs/s1600-h/IMG_2354.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/RjMtPw6UGyI/AAAAAAAAAB8/tmRPVAJlTDs/s320/IMG_2354.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058436555317975842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;More meadows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/RjMtQA6UG0I/AAAAAAAAACM/rnUDTnB_Mn0/s1600-h/IMG_1897.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/RjMtQA6UG0I/AAAAAAAAACM/rnUDTnB_Mn0/s320/IMG_1897.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058436559612943170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;On Princes Street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24095778-2988347703619184028?l=nomadicmolly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/feeds/2988347703619184028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24095778&amp;postID=2988347703619184028' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/2988347703619184028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/2988347703619184028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/2007/04/edinburgh-and-new-flat.html' title='Edinburgh and the new flat'/><author><name>Molly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03501294367567126688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/RjMsSQ6UGrI/AAAAAAAAABE/0oUG5lTnDZ4/s72-c/100_0587.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24095778.post-6590418732666947128</id><published>2007-04-22T13:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-25T04:48:50.232-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Germany (again...)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/RivOc-DR-gI/AAAAAAAAAA8/dL2fpre_aeA/s1600-h/IMG_1695.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/RivOc-DR-gI/AAAAAAAAAA8/dL2fpre_aeA/s320/IMG_1695.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056362003741932034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Dear Friends and Family,&lt;br /&gt;It's been quite a long time since  I bothered you all with one of my little updates, but I thought since I now have a new address, and have just returned form a trip, I'd send one out.  First and foremost, my new address is as follows:&lt;br /&gt;(write me for the full one)&lt;br /&gt;Edinburgh&lt;br /&gt;UK*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our flat is really cute, if rather quirky.  And by my New York standards it's HUGE!  Plus it's £100 (approx $200) cheaper a month than was my tiny dorm room.  Can't beat that.&lt;br /&gt;In travel news, my two roomies Nita and Eileen, plus Justin and I, recently returned form a week in Germany.  For those of you who haven't heard all about these three, we are all in the same program here in Edinburgh.  We started off our jaunt to Germany in Leipzig.  Eileen went to college/uni there, so she showed us the sites, including the two Max Planck Institute branches, one for the kiddies, and one for the apes.  I'd never seen the kid part before and it was quite something.  Facilities to make anyone drool over.  Great lab space, open space to relax a bit, plus a sauna, roof terrace, a climbing wall, and foosball table.  Life is tough at the Max Planck…&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/RivMSuDR-aI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6PmwM4SZXjc/s1600-h/IMG_1954.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/RivMSuDR-aI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6PmwM4SZXjc/s320/IMG_1954.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056359628625017250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The apes live at the zoo, where I had been once a few years back, but this time we spent a very long time looking at the chimps, orangutans, bonobos and gorillas.  As it was spring time there were lots of babies.  Bonobo babies, in particular, are sure to soften up even the hardest scientist. We also saw chimp tool use, treats raining from the sky (enrichment, for those monkey lab people reading this) and an orangutan named Bimbo that loved rolling around in a giant ripped paper sack.&lt;br /&gt;We spent Easter at Eileen's house in Erfurt (an hour or so by train from Leipzig) which was a wonderful visit to childhood.  We spent hours Easter day painting eggs with indestructible-made-in-the-GDR watercolors, one representing each of our countries:  Kosovo, South Africa, the US, and Germany, at Eileen's insistence.  &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/RivMj-DR-bI/AAAAAAAAAAU/A-5Zi12Ajgs/s1600-h/IMG_2094.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/RivMj-DR-bI/AAAAAAAAAAU/A-5Zi12Ajgs/s320/IMG_2094.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056359924977760690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And we had quite an Easter egg hunt in her back yard.  We all ended up with far more chocolate than we needed, and a few slugs to boot.  We also ate WAY to much all the time.  Eileen's mom made sure of that.  And, Nita got her nose pierced!  And Eileen won't stop referring to it as a nose job.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/RivM2-DR-cI/AAAAAAAAAAc/sQMOhSd1zhc/s1600-h/IMG_2138.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/RivM2-DR-cI/AAAAAAAAAAc/sQMOhSd1zhc/s320/IMG_2138.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056360251395275202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/RivNBODR-dI/AAAAAAAAAAk/LgQU8j5wKug/s1600-h/IMG_2184.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/RivNBODR-dI/AAAAAAAAAAk/LgQU8j5wKug/s320/IMG_2184.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056360427488934354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Our next stop was one that Lonely Planet did not even see fit to include in my guidebook:  The Neander Valley.  We went there entirely for the archaeology.  How could we miss the location where they found the first Neandie??!!  The museum there was quite good.  They did however tell use that H. erectus met all the biological prerequisites for speech, and that Neanderthals with little doubt spoke the way we do.  News to us.  And to most anyone who studies language I think.  Aside for the language inaccuracies though, lots of dioramas, recorded guides, a cave you could stick your head into (though it looked from inside as if you'd been decapitated) kept us quite entertained.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/RivNOeDR-eI/AAAAAAAAAAs/A6McBuvTIlI/s1600-h/IMG_2282.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/RivNOeDR-eI/AAAAAAAAAAs/A6McBuvTIlI/s320/IMG_2282.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056360655122201058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our final stop in Deutschland was Cologne.  Even if it was West Germany (egad!) and even if our hostel was a bit smelly, we all quite enjoyed ourselves in Cologne.  We made the requisite trip to the Dom, ascended the tower were we were nearly deafened by the chiming of the hour, visited the chocolate museum, and had some very nice Ethiopian food for dinner.  And most importantly, Justin got two new pairs of pumas.  Ohhh, ahhh.  It really does seem to me though, that all of Germany is perpetually under construction….&lt;br /&gt;I hope all is well with you all!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24095778-6590418732666947128?l=nomadicmolly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/feeds/6590418732666947128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24095778&amp;postID=6590418732666947128' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/6590418732666947128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/6590418732666947128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/2007/04/germany-again.html' title='Germany (again...)'/><author><name>Molly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03501294367567126688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_AZrj1x4L1GM/RivOc-DR-gI/AAAAAAAAAA8/dL2fpre_aeA/s72-c/IMG_1695.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24095778.post-116551609152161123</id><published>2006-12-07T10:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-07T10:28:11.536-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanksgiving in the land of Burns and Scott</title><content type='html'>This year was my very first Thanksgiving away from my family, and my first Thanksgiving outside the US.  But I was not about to miss out on the holiday in general, so I invited over all of the students in my MSc program for an authentic American Thanksgiving.  They both helped me cook and helped me eat.  And I made sure they ate so much they couldn’t move.  Just like one is required to do on Thanksgiving.  Right? &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3620/2495/1600/30591/cooking.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3620/2495/320/930442/cooking.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shopping for Thanksgiving dinner was quite an experience.  Who knew how much the supplies for one, albeit very large, meal could cost?  Okay, I guess anyone who has ever actually prepared such a meal does, but this was my first time.  And I was rather shocked.  Three grocery stores and several ingredient substitutions/compromises later, however, I had pretty much everything I needed.  Funny note, they IDed me when I bought wine.  The age at which you can buy wine in the UK is 16.  Anyone think I look 15?  Yeah, me neither.  And, note to any Americans ever cooking abroad , cornstarch is cornflour in the UK.  And if you ask in the grocery store they probably won’t know.  Just something to file away in you mind.  I was able to find the other ingredients I was worried about:  sweet potatoes, cranberries, canned cherries, etc.  &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3620/2495/1600/843979/cooking2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3620/2495/320/740571/cooking2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cooking preparation began for me, and for the saintly Nita, who happens to live on my floor, on Wednesday night.  After lots of grocery shopping we spent Wednesday evening peeling and chopping potatoes, stuffing walnuts into cherries (hooray for jello with bumps!  My mom sent the black cherry jello all the way across the ocean), pouring jello, mashing potatoes, etc.  All in all it was good to get some of the cooking done ahead of time, but I still had no idea what I was in for on Thanksgiving day itself.&lt;br /&gt;Problem number one with making Thanksgiving dinner outside the States is that it’s not actually a holiday.  This means you actually have to work or go to class.  Egad!  In fact, on this Thanksgiving day, I not only had my normal 3 classes, I also gave a talk in one of those classes and then attended a not-to-be-missed department talk afterward.  It wasn’t all bad though.  I spent some time listening to WNYC about the flight delays at Kennedy and La Guardia and thought, well, lucky me I’m not there this year!  Anyway,  due to all this activity, cooking did not being in earnest until about 6pm.  Note to self for future reference, turkeys take a long time to defrost.  Even if they are small.  But how was veggie me supposed to know that?!  So after some warm water the bird was reasonably ready to go into the oven.  Which it did.  After we discovered it was only a partial bird.  Whoopsie.  Who knew they would sell you a frozen turkey with no legs, cavity or giblets!?  I’ve never tried to buy one before.  In the future I will be more cautious.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3620/2495/1600/870291/food%21.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3620/2495/320/83666/food%21.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone was really amazing in helping me to prepare the meal.  Mom, I dunno how you do it, because I needed all the help I could get.  Everyone basically took charge of one recipe, or part of one recipe, and everything pretty much got done.  We were hampered by ½ of the ovens in the kitchens on my floor not really working (grumble), but in the end we had turkey, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, jello with bumps, and stuffing.  Oh and cranberry pie and pumpkin pie, but no one could even touch those we were so full.  Perhaps it’s because dinner wasn’t ready until 11pm.  Opps.  But all in all it was a very successful Thanksgiving.  I made everyone around the table say what they were grateful for, and we had fun cooking and playing games while the food was in the oven, and, in the end, all of the food even tasted right.  I may have been the only American at the table, but I think it was quite a traditional Thanksgiving.  And with some wine and gin and a lot of patience, no one even got stressed or grumpy.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3620/2495/1600/151497/eating.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3620/2495/320/992059/eating.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As my birthday was Friday, we had a little cake at midnight and then talked boisterously until 1:30 am or so.  Then Nita, still saintly, helped me with the dishes and I slid into bed for a few hours of sleep before my 6am flight.  Next year I will be better at this.  Dinner will take place before 8pm!  I swear.&lt;br /&gt;Hope your Turkey Day was great too!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24095778-116551609152161123?l=nomadicmolly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/feeds/116551609152161123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24095778&amp;postID=116551609152161123' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/116551609152161123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/116551609152161123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/2006/12/thanksgiving-in-land-of-burns-and.html' title='Thanksgiving in the land of Burns and Scott'/><author><name>Molly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03501294367567126688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24095778.post-116301579904164772</id><published>2006-11-08T11:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-08T11:56:39.066-08:00</updated><title type='text'>a New Yorker Abroad - votes and travels</title><content type='html'>First of all, adios Rummy and come on Virginia!&lt;br /&gt;So, watching your own country's elections from across the ocean is very strange. First of all, it's strange just how much coverage the local media gives to the US elections. I know this is just naivete on my part, but until moving abroad, I really did not realize just how present the US is in everyday life all over the world. I guess when you grow up in it you just assume that everyone else grows up saturated in their own culture they way you are in yours, not that they are saturated in yours too!&lt;br /&gt;In answer to your questions, yes I did vote. Absentee as a New Yorker. I'm sure no one has any idea who I voted for... And it is so nice to finally have an election, in which I was old enough to vote, that I didn't feel was going lead to the country deeper and deeper into doom. I mean the Democrats have a very tough job ahead of them, but at it won't be the insanity we've had for the last six years.&lt;br /&gt;Now a short update with less timely content. Last week I headed across the channel to Austria. Well okay, across the channel and a few countries. I spent a lovely week on some short hikes, exploring Munich, and at a Zellhof Camp reunion weekend. Pictures below.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/1600/IMG_1017.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/320/IMG_1017.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/1600/IMG_1028.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/320/IMG_1028.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/1600/IMG_1085.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/320/IMG_1085.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/1600/IMG_1102.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/320/IMG_1102.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/1600/IMG_1131.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/320/IMG_1131.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24095778-116301579904164772?l=nomadicmolly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/feeds/116301579904164772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24095778&amp;postID=116301579904164772' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/116301579904164772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/116301579904164772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/2006/11/new-yorker-abroad-votes-and-travels.html' title='a New Yorker Abroad - votes and travels'/><author><name>Molly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03501294367567126688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24095778.post-116112745999285337</id><published>2006-10-17T15:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-23T02:32:31.576-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hill Walking and British Dental Care</title><content type='html'>Last weekend I ventured out of Edinburgh for the first time since my arrival here in Scotland. I went with the hill walking society to Torridon, in the northwestern Highlands. &lt;a href="http://www.aboutbritain.com/maps/torridon-map.asp"&gt;http://www.aboutbritain.com/maps/torridon-map.asp&lt;/a&gt;  (zoom out and you can see just how far northwestern!) Here are a few things I discovered during the weekend:&lt;br /&gt;1) The Highlands are GORGEOUS! Beyond stunning. Look at this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/1600/Highlands.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/320/Highlands.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/1600/Highlands4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/320/Highlands4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looks almost fake, right? I had that thought in person too. Just too gorgeous to be true.&lt;br /&gt;2) Hillwalking is hiking. There is no "walking". You hike up large hills, which look suspiciously like mountains. It is very hard work, but what a reward when you get to the top and see that view...&lt;br /&gt;3) You can drink the water from the streams here. Apparently. Everyone else in my group did and none of them got sick. I mentioned just what a bad idea we are told that is in the States, but apparently there is less nasty bacteria in Scotland. I still didn't drink the water though.&lt;br /&gt;4) Apparently the highlands used to be covered with trees. But humans in the neolithic cleared the forest for farming and grazing. And let me tell you, the total lack of windbreaks means it's awfully windy at the top...&lt;br /&gt;5) My munro count is now 2. What's a munro, you ask? Well they are the highest of Scotland's hills/mountains. At least 3000 ft. There are 284 in Scotland. So, 2 down, 282 to go!&lt;br /&gt;6) On the way home I heard the Top 10 British pop countdown. At #10: "Jump in my Car" by David, "The Hoff," Haselhoff. Someone explain. Please.&lt;br /&gt;7) Rocks and teeth don't mix. They break. Just ask my front teeth. Or what's left of them. I had a little run in with a rock, and hit just wrong, and so, viola, I look like a jack-o'-lantern. And, to make things better, I live in Britain, land of crappy, crappy dental care. So my options at this point are either a) to wait until December (DECEMBER) and pay quite a lot to get them fixed by and NHS (National Health Service) dentist or b) get them fixed in the next few weeks but pay an INSANE amount of money. £400+ Yeah. Fun. But given that I can't bit into anything, or eat anything hot or cold, or talk very well, or open my mouth without horrifying people, I might just pay. I now understand perfectly, however, why Brits have such bad teeth.&lt;br /&gt;So yes, the teeth thing is really unfortunate, but the highlands are really unforgettable.  But, I will most certainly be headed back hillwalking. Possibly this time wearing a(n) (American) football helmet....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/1600/Highland%20Sun%20Beams.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/320/Highland%20Sun%20Beams.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: right"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/1600/Highland%20Sun%20Beams.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24095778-116112745999285337?l=nomadicmolly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/feeds/116112745999285337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24095778&amp;postID=116112745999285337' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/116112745999285337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/116112745999285337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/2006/10/hill-walking-and-british-dental-care.html' title='Hill Walking and British Dental Care'/><author><name>Molly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03501294367567126688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24095778.post-115957208123386437</id><published>2006-09-29T15:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-23T02:34:02.476-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Edinburgh</title><content type='html'>I've been here for about three weeks now and things are, by and large, going very well. Edinburgh is a charming city. Wonderfully walkable, beautiful, and friendly. There is also a lovely, easily hikeable hill/mountain called Arthur's Seat just a few minutes walk from my residence. A view from the Seat:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/1600/Arthur"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/320/Arthur%27s%20Seat.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And the view from my room:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/1600/View%20from%20window.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/320/View%20from%20window.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Classes are going well. It's really amazing to have so many people around who are interested in language. So many talks and classes and so much research. It's a bit overwhelming, but in a very good way. The other people in my program and I get along really well too. There are 8.5 of us: 1 from Jamaica via London, 1 from Scotland, .5 other Brit (part time student), 2 from the US (including me), 1 from Germany, 1 from Kosovo, 1 from Spain (the Basque Country), and 1 from South Africa. We've started a tradition of a dinner together every other week. I'm quite looking forward to getting to know them all better. The people I share a kitchen with are also great. And I am actually meeting some Scottish and British people; especially in the British Sign Language club/class I joined. Couldn't ask for much more than that!&lt;br /&gt;A few more observations about life and uni in the UK:&lt;br /&gt;1) They eat very strange flavors of chips/crisps here. For example: roast chicken, prawn (shrimp) cocktail, and, best of all, lamb and mint. Ummm. Ick. And the beans on toast thing. Yeah, still don’t get that.&lt;br /&gt;2) You really can't go shopping late here. The stores run out of things. Not just unusual things, I'm talking eggs and milk. It's a bit odd. And when I asked where the tofu was, the grocery store employee asked me what it was.&lt;br /&gt;3) Edinburgh is expensive! Rent is cheaper than in New York, and groceries are about on par, but eating out! Whoa. Just try to do so for less than £10 ($19-$20). That's without a drink or an appetizer. Ouch.&lt;br /&gt;4) The drinking age (it's 18 here) makes a big difference in university life. Not that undergrads in the US don't drink, they most certainly do, but here it's basically sanctioned by the school. The student union sells pints for £1.50. You can't even get a sandwich for that. It seems that all the club ("society" here) meetings are just not possible without beer.&lt;br /&gt;5) CCTV scares me. There are cameras everywhere (well, everywhere public) recording all the time. And, apparently, some of them even talk to you. If you are say, riding your bike in a pedestrians only zone, a voice from the sky might just tell you that you need to get off. Talk about Big Brother. Creeeepy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/1600/Royal%20Mile.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/320/Royal%20Mile.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all though, Edinburgh is great. The Royal Mile (see to left) looks like it's straight out of a storybook. And I love all the accents around here. I think it's going to be a good year.&lt;br /&gt;Though tonight I did watch a movie with some friends. Silly movie, but it took place in New York, on the UWS, and it did get me a bit. I might well be destined to end up back there in the long run, but right now Edinbugh is just right.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24095778-115957208123386437?l=nomadicmolly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/feeds/115957208123386437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24095778&amp;postID=115957208123386437' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/115957208123386437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/115957208123386437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/2006/09/edinburgh.html' title='Edinburgh'/><author><name>Molly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03501294367567126688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24095778.post-115823048529871646</id><published>2006-09-14T03:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T10:56:06.376-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Can you say overcommited?</title><content type='html'>Well I will certainly not be bored this year.   I just signed up for my classes for first semester.  I hardly know what to do with myself with so many language classes to take!  At Columbia I was thrilled when even one was offered.  Here my entire schedule is full of them!  I guess I've come to the right place.  One problem though, is that I had a lot of trouble deciding which classes to take.  Or, more accurately, which ones not to take.  As a result, I currently have 8 classes.  Clearly I am going to have to winnow that number down a bit.  I guess I'll just have to see what happens the first few weeks.  I do like to sleep occasionally.&lt;br /&gt;And to make matters worse, or better?, I also joined four societies (clubs) yesterday.  A choir (I've missed singing SO much these last few years!), a yoga society (£2.20 yoga classes instead of £10), the German Club (which is called Deutsch macht spa&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12;"  &gt;β - German is fun&lt;/span&gt;, and I couldn't agree more), and the British Sign Language Club.  So yeah.  That's a lot.  And I want to travel while I'm here of course.&lt;br /&gt;We'll see what happens...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24095778-115823048529871646?l=nomadicmolly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/feeds/115823048529871646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24095778&amp;postID=115823048529871646' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/115823048529871646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/115823048529871646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/2006/09/can-you-say-overcommited.html' title='Can you say overcommited?'/><author><name>Molly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03501294367567126688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24095778.post-115792359497945336</id><published>2006-09-10T14:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-10T14:29:12.296-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Scottish greetings</title><content type='html'>Hello from Edinburgh!&lt;br /&gt;As I think you all know, I will be spending the next 12 months&lt;br /&gt;studying in Edinburgh, Scotland.  I will still be updating this blog, but since I will be in Scotland for an entire 12 months, I won't be sending out the updates as emails.  I think that might get a little annoying for you all!&lt;br /&gt;That said, here are a few last email musings on entering Scotland yesterday. I managed to arrive in Edinburgh sans luggage.  This was not all bad as that meant I did not have to schlep my two very heavy bags from the airport.  And my bags showed up this afternoon so I only had to wear the same clothes for about 72 hours.  Could have been worse.&lt;br /&gt;I also managed to enter the UK illegally!  How did I do that, you ask? Heaven forbid you try to bring a bottle of water on a plane, but you can enter the country illegally without even trying, or knowing for that matter.  What happened is this.  I had a very tight connection in Manchester.  And then my first flight was late.  And I needed to change airlines.  So when I got off the plane at Manchester, I was told to run (or at least move very quickly toward) the transfer desk. The people there had anticipated my short connection time and had my boarding pass all printed out for me.  They then sent me to the front of the security line.  I ran to my gate and made it with a minute or two to spare.  I found it odd that I had not had my passport stamped, but I didn't worry about it too much.  The flight attendant on my first flight had said I didn't need to fill out a landing card since I was only in transit in Manchester.&lt;br /&gt;And then I got to Edinburgh.  And walked right to the baggage claim (I did not yet know that my baggage was lost)! There was no passport control.  I asked several airport employees and they all said that if no one had asked in Manchester, then it must be okay.  But I was incredulous, so I kept bugging the guard at the international arrivals terminal (not the terminal I had flown into) and so he eventually got his boss.  And she called the immigration people (it took nearly an hour to get someone to pick up the phone) who could not believe that what had happened had actually happened.  The immigration officer's words were:  "Well you have entered the country illegally, but it wasn't your fault".  But I was still illegal, fault or no.  After about 90 minutes she came to the exit of the immigration area and stamped my passport.  And she said thank you for alerting them, as no one would have known otherwise! That said, the people at the airport were helpful.  Never once did I feel abandoned.  They did not know what to do about the situation, but the pursued it until it was fixed. Heaven forbid that should happen at JFK.  You'd never get to talk to the immigration people!  Though I also doubt you could accidentally enter the US illegally.&lt;br /&gt;Off to unpack my newly arrived bags.&lt;br /&gt;Cheers,&lt;br /&gt;Molly&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24095778-115792359497945336?l=nomadicmolly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/feeds/115792359497945336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24095778&amp;postID=115792359497945336' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/115792359497945336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/115792359497945336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/2006/09/scottish-greetings.html' title='Scottish greetings'/><author><name>Molly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03501294367567126688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24095778.post-115673109313487646</id><published>2006-08-27T19:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-05T12:27:38.800-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Working hard in Nicaragua</title><content type='html'>Hello friends and family across the globe,&lt;br /&gt;I have just returned from two and a half weeks in Nicaragua.  It was such a busy trip that I didn't have time to write anything while there, but I thought I'd send out a little something on my return.  The travel day to Managua was enlivened by its coinciding with the first day when you could not bring any liquids onto the planes.  You can imagine the scene of mass chaos at JFK when people, who had not been told of the new regulations at check in, were forced to throw away hundreds of dollars worth makeup, toothpaste and other toiletries.  That was not the best of ways to start the trip, but then none of us wants to deal with the results of alternative to tight security, now do we?&lt;br /&gt;Upon arrival in Nicaragua I was struck by the fact that Managua is a really familiar place to me now.  I guess five trips in two and a half years will do that.  Most things were not much changed this trip.  It was still hot and humid.  There was still no hot water at Quaker House (where we stay while in Managua).  Cars still honk constantly just to announce that they are coming and that you'd better get out of the way. Cabbies still leave the motor running while they fill up with gas.  There are still no street names.  I still haven't learned how to count Managuan blocks, a necessary skill since without street names all addresses are given as a certain number of blocks (or alleys or paces) from a landmark.  And there was still no AC pretty much anywhere.  The elections are coming up in Nicaragua though, so this trip the Managuan streets were lined with campaign posters.  A lot of them were quite effective advertising too.  The FSLN (the Sandanistas, or the current incarnation of what once were the Sandinistas) in particular seemed to have hired a good PR person to work on their billboards.  They were colorful, carried *ambitious* and extremely improbable goal slogans like "cero hambre, cero desempleo, salud gratis" (zero hunger, zero unemployment, free health(care)), and were crafted to be accessible.  The text looked as if it had been handwritten and the candidates were referred to only by their first names and were depicted in friendly looking pictures.  Daniel Ortega with a huge smile on his face and his name signed in his, or at least someone's, handwriting.  You get the picture. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/1600/ManaguaFSLN.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/320/ManaguaFSLN.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From talking to Nicaraguan friends, it seems that most people are not too excited about any of the candidates.   The one well liked candidate, Herty, recently died unexpectedly.  So in contrast to the spin doctor constructed FSLN posters, "Herty vive" (Herty lives) could also be seen scrawled with genuine feeling on walls across all across the city. &lt;br /&gt;New for me on this trip was having the German and Spanish in my head fight with each other.  After speaking German all summer it was, at first, much easier to access than my Spanish.  Spanish was still easier to understand for me German, but I really had to fight with all my might not to starting speaking in alternating Spanish and German.  By the end of the first week it was getting easier to speak just Spanish, but even at the end of the trip, I still had a very strong urge to say "keine Ahnung" instead of "ni idea" (no idea).  &lt;br /&gt;New in Managua in general this trip was an additional challenge to daily life:  rolling blackouts.  Due to the world wide energy crisis, neighborhoods all throughout Managua were having blackouts daily.  Even snazzy hotels and the rich neighborhoods were not being spared, though they probably had electricity more of the time than did some off the poorer ones.  Managuans are remarkably able to deal with less than ideal circumstances, but the lack of electricity (and sometimes water) was not going over well.  It was a daily topic of conversation and there was some unrest in the city.  Hardly surprising given how difficult it makes life when you don't know at any given moment if you will have power or water.  It made our research lives more difficult too of course.  But luckily most of our equipment is battery operated.  We did have to test one set of subjects by flashlight though.  Won't be showing clips from those subjects to anyone!&lt;br /&gt;We did manage to have a few days off over the course of the trip.  We stayed at a fabulous place in San Juan del Sur (near the border with Costa Rica) called Pelican Eyes.  It had infinity pools, gorgeous rooms, AC, hot water, a beautiful view, the whole 9 yards.  It also had blackouts though.  Just to remind us that we were still in Nicaragua.  &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/1600/Pelican%20eyes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/320/Pelican%20eyes.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Near the end of the trip we also had a day at Montelimar, a beach resort not too far from Managua.  Our experience there was mixed. And we did leave there relaxed, though it certainly wasn't Pelican Eyes.  Managua, unfortunately, has a way of making you feel the tension throughout your whole body without 10 minutes of your return from the most relaxing of days off.&lt;br /&gt;Despite the blackouts the trip was quite successful on the research front.  We were again running tasks looking at numerical abilities as well as spatial abilities.  We ran tons of subjects,even though the disability week festivals meant the kids at the school were often unavailable. We have lots and lots of data to look at now. I, personally, have very little time left to look at my data though.  I'll be in Scotland less than two weeks!  So that means despite the breakneck pace of research work we have been maintaining in Nicaragua the last two and a half weeks, I won't be doing much in the way of slowing down.  Good thing I love my job. &lt;br /&gt;Leaving Managua is always somewhat of a relief.  It's a tough city to like and we work so hard while we are there that by the end of the trip we're all about ready to collapse.  I have some mixed feelings this trip though.  As I am leaving my job in a few weeks to go back to school, I don't know when I will be coming back to Nicaragua.  But I'm hooked, if not on Managua itself, than on the people and on the research.  And I will be back.  Estoy segura.&lt;br /&gt;Saludos,&lt;br /&gt;Molly&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24095778-115673109313487646?l=nomadicmolly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/feeds/115673109313487646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24095778&amp;postID=115673109313487646' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/115673109313487646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/115673109313487646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/2006/08/working-hard-in-nicaragua.html' title='Working hard in Nicaragua'/><author><name>Molly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03501294367567126688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24095778.post-115403255208438448</id><published>2006-07-27T13:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-28T19:29:15.633-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Allzeit bereit. (Be prepared)</title><content type='html'>27 July, 2006&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello friends,&lt;br /&gt;I have just returned to the states after spending the last three or so weeks working at a scout camp (Pfadfinderdorf Zellhof – “Zellhof scout village”) near Salzburg, Austria.  After I got over my initial worries of “what on Earth am I doing at a camp in the middle of Austria where I have to speak German for three weeks!?” everything was really great.  I worked with and talk to people of all different ages from all over the German-speaking world and beyond.  They were, almost without exception, wonderful.  And for the first time in my life I was really the only American around.  And that was very interesting.&lt;br /&gt;So, you might ask, ummm Molly, how did you end up working at a scout camp in Austria?  The answer:  the internet.  Hooray for the internet.  And hooray for scouting.  I have been a girl scout since I was four years old, and after not having been very involved for the last five or six years, it was wonderful to get back into.  I had forgotten just how great scouting is.  Some things were different from how they are in the US.  In many of the troops the boys and girls were together.  This was a concept that had not really occurred to me since we are always so separated in the US.  But it works.  And why not, right?  Except that (no offense to any US boy scouts reading) the Girl Scouts of America is a far superior organization to the Boy Scouts of America.  And I was somewhat shocked to see that you could buy beer, wine and cigarettes at scout camp.  But for the most part I was struck by just how much the same things were.  The songs are the same (albeit with lyrics in a different language), the activities are the same, the campfires are the same.  It was all so familiar.  And I can’t overstate how cool it is to hear a bunch of Danish girl scouts in Austria singing a song that I remember singing when I was their age at camp in California.  &lt;br /&gt;As for the language component of my time in Austria, I spoke A LOT of German.  At first I thought I was toast as there were so many new words I didn’t know.  I just hadn’t had occasion to talk extensively about wheel barrows and buckets and trash sorting before, you know?  And often there was not just one new word to learn, but two.  When you are working in Austria with people from both Germany and Austria you have to learn not only that in Austria a wheelbarrow is a “Schiebtruhe” but also that in Germany it is a “Schubkarre”.  Likewise for bucket (Kübel vs. Eimer).  That and you have to understand the Austrian accents which, to me at least, sound like people are always singing.  Not everyone sounds like he/she is singing, but a lot of people do.  For the first time I was speaking with native speakers, who actually know things like with preposition goes with which verb, which was great for my German.  Sadly, now that I am here in California, there is no one to speak German with!  Perhaps I should mosey on up to Sacramento and have a talk with the governor.  Of course I have been told, by reliable sources, that Arnie’s German isn’t very good these days.  I was even told once that my German was better than his.  That, however, I do not believe.&lt;br /&gt;There are so many more wonderful little incidents I could write about but, as I think I am tending to write longer and longer emails, I will just share one more of my favorites.  One day, I was sitting at a table in the shop reading a book I had brought along with me.  A very smart, very funny, 10 year old German kid who was working with his dad and brother at the camp sat down next to me.  He asked me what I was reading so I showed him.  And he said, “but it’s in English!”.  I said, well yes, I am American, I read and speak English.  And he was speechless.  It was very cute.  I guess he just thought I was a none too bright person who made a lot of grammatical errors?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/1600/Zellhof.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/320/Zellhof.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was extremely sad to leave Zellhof.  But since I will be on that side of the Atlantic all next year, I already have several trips to Austria planned to see some of the great people I met.  And next summer I really hope to go back.  Masters thesis, bah!  I’m sure I can take a few weeks off from that, right?…&lt;br /&gt;Hope you all are well and keeping cool.&lt;br /&gt;Bis bald,&lt;br /&gt;Molly&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24095778-115403255208438448?l=nomadicmolly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/feeds/115403255208438448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24095778&amp;postID=115403255208438448' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/115403255208438448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/115403255208438448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/2006/07/allzeit-bereit-be-prepared.html' title='Allzeit bereit. (Be prepared)'/><author><name>Molly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03501294367567126688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24095778.post-115195075363186103</id><published>2006-07-03T11:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-28T19:24:22.660-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Der Ball ist rund und ein Spiel dauert 90 Minuten.</title><content type='html'>3 July 2006&lt;br /&gt;For those of you who don’t speak German, the subject line literally means:  “The ball is round,  and the game lasts ninety minutes.”   But it really means “anything can happen.”  As you could likely guess, in World Cup crazed Berlin the quote is everywhere.  Even in the Pergamon museum (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pergamon_Museum).  The Pergamon Museum is Berlin’s archaeological museum.  It contains the Pergamon Alter, the Ishtar Gate and many other (non German) world treasures.  And an exhibit called “Der Ball ist Rund.”  A friend from class, Mari, and I visited the museum and the special exhibit on my last day in Berlin.  The permanent collection was impressive, but the special exhibit blew me away.  It was about soccer, but also about time and space and cognition.  Seriously.  The had everything from old films of soccer matches, to a whole wall of eyes from ancient Egyptian statues, to Schinkel’s set designs for the Magic Flute, to Hubble images.  Leave it to the Germans.  I have never seen anything like it.  I even bought the catalogue for the first time in my life.  It was incredible.  &lt;br /&gt;After the Pergamon, Mari and I had another very important “Ball ist rund”-related event to attend to:  the Germany vs. Argentina game.  We parked ourselves in a bar by the Spree, ordered a few beers, and waited for the madness to begin.  Pregame everyone was fired up.  Tons of flags, painted faces, the works.  But the first half was pretty quiet.  The very nice German women sitting behind us and we struck up a conversation.  Mari endeavoured to explain baseball.  Auf Deutsch.  That was very, very difficult!  The game was very evenly matched and, much to the dismay of all, Argentina scored first.  But then Germany scored and the whole city started to yell, hug, and honk its horns.  When the game was over (after a scoreless overtime and a shoot out!) Berlin became one huge party.  See the pictures to get an idea (link coming).  It was unbelievable.  Wanting to soak up the atmosphere as much as possible, Mari and I headed to the Fan Mile (http://fifaworldcup.yahoo.com/06/en/051216/1/5pye.html).  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/1600/Berlin.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/320/Berlin.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things were hopping down there and the celebration was in full force.  But the most memorable part of the evening was the subway ride home.  Things started out innocently enough.  It was crowded with fans, but nothing was amiss.  Then the train came and we all piled on.  And we did not move for very long time.  In the mean time, all of the (fairly drunk) fans on the train started singing and dancing and jumping up and down!  They sang all sort of team jingles and even Deutschland Deutschland.  The car was about 100 degrees inside by this point, and though it was not moving forward to the next station, it was shaking from all of the celebration.  I will never forget it.  And I took some videos with my camera just to make sure!&lt;br /&gt;The next morning I left Berlin.  My liver may not have been sad (I might have doubled my lifetime beer consumption while in Berlin), but I certainly was.  I am in love with that city.  &lt;br /&gt;I am currently writing from Vienna.  Now I think there is no way for me to avoid giving Vienna short schrift (I’ve been here only for two days, I was in Berlin for a month), but here are a few points worth sharing.  In Vienna I keep having those, “My God.  I’m in Vienna.  Vienna is a real place!  It actually exists!” kinds of moments.  I think it’s a product of growing up American and not in a large city like New York.  For me, so much of Europe is still just something that exists in books.  I think part of the reason I like to travel so much is that it finally makes the places I’ve read about real.  &lt;br /&gt;And Vienna is gorgeous.  In many ways it’s the opposite of Berlin.  Berlin is a giant construction site.  Vienna is a giant museum.  I was lucky enough to meet with a Viennese friend of mine and her daughter here.  We had a lovely walk around the city and then stopped in a typical Viennese café for coffee and Sachertorte.  And we spoke German.  It was really lovely.  Her very sweet, just over one year old daughter is learning German and English.  She spoke mostly German too except for saying “I know!” in English.  So cute!!  It was suggested to me by this friend that it would be a good exercise to write these e-mails in German.  I agree. It would.  But I think it would take about 20 hours to do so.  Plus then most of you couldn’t read them!  &lt;br /&gt;I also visited St. Stephen’s, a gorgeous gothic cathedral in the center of Vienna.  I like climbing to the tops of churches for the view so I jumped at the chance here.  As I ascended the twisty, narrow 343 steps to the top something odd happened:&lt;br /&gt;Step 320, 321, 322.  I think I hear something.  Nah, maybe I'm just getting a tad tired.  Step 330, 331, 332.  It's now unmistakeable.  Step 333, 334.  It sounds like Madonna (as in the singer, not the holy mother, this was not a religious epiphany).  And it was!  At the top of the tower of this soaring gothic cathedral in very beautiful, somewhat somber, very dignified Vienna, the shop attendant was blasting “Material Girl”.  Height, light, salvation and a material world.  Wow.  It could have been funnier though.  It could have been “Like a Virgin”.&lt;br /&gt;In addition, I paid my obligatory visit to the Freud museum.  I am no more a fan of Freud’s theories than most psychologists, but I am in Vienna after all!  The museum was interesting, even if THE couch is in London.  And after seeing just how many Egyptian artifacts Freud had in his office, I am starting to feel more of a kinship with him… &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/1600/Freud.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/320/Freud.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite museum in Vienna though was the Kunsthaus Wien.  It houses the work of the Austrian painter Hundertwasser and on its website claims to be: “A house not corresponding to the usual cliches and norms, an adventure of modern times, a journey into the land of creative architecture, a melody for the eyes and the feet.”  It was very unusual indeed.  The floor is uneven, there are plants everywhere as well as lots of eye-poppingly colourful tile work.  Well worth the visit.  &lt;br /&gt;And in closing, another update on the state of my German.  I am feeling more comfortable daily.  I am doing my everyday errands all in German which is not a small accomplishment.  The guy at the Freud museum even handed me the German guide!  Now I just have to figure out how to use all those prepositions.  &lt;br /&gt;I’ve posted some pictures to Snapfish in case you are interested.  The link is headed your way shortly.  &lt;br /&gt;I hope you all are well!&lt;br /&gt;Bis bald,&lt;br /&gt;Molly&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24095778-115195075363186103?l=nomadicmolly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/feeds/115195075363186103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24095778&amp;postID=115195075363186103' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/115195075363186103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/115195075363186103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/2006/07/der-ball-ist-rund-und-ein-spiel-dauert.html' title='Der Ball ist rund und ein Spiel dauert 90 Minuten.'/><author><name>Molly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03501294367567126688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24095778.post-115131937066593801</id><published>2006-06-26T03:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-27T19:39:51.010-07:00</updated><title type='text'>daily life in Berlin</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/1600/Alexanderplatz.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/320/Alexanderplatz.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26 June, 2006&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hallo all,&lt;br /&gt;Berlin is an amazing city.  I have been here for three weeks now about I have only one left. I am living in Prenzlauerberg in the former East Berlin.  My apartment is about a 30 minute walk or a 15 minute tram ride from the Goethe Institut where I take my German class.  Being the good New Yorker that I am, I generally walk.  I first pass an ashtanga yoga studio (one of the two studios I've tried here.  Yoga auf Deutsch.  Whoa. Thank goodness the sankskirt names don't change!)  I pass a pizza joint where the clock always reads 12:00.  I pass a large pork butcher shop that has lots of  very cute piggy banks in the window.  It seems a little bit morbid&lt;br /&gt;to me...  I pass lots of BioMärkte/Organic markets.  I pass tons of German people riding their bicycles.  All without helmets.  I guess German people don't worry about smashing their brains out on the sidewalk.  I try my best to wait for the jolly little traffic light man to turn green before I cross the street.  It's hard.  New York conditioning.  But some Berliners cross when it's red too.  Really they do!&lt;br /&gt;I also pass tons of people with little kids.  I found this very odd at first.  One can hardly have a conversation about Germany without talking about the birthrate crisis.  But apparently in Prenzlauerberg, and only Prenzlauerberg, there is actually a baby boom.  And auf gutes Deutsch, in case you were wondering, that's "Babyboom".  As I continued to walk I pass White Trash Fast Food. I saw this place last summer, when it was in a different location, and had no clue what it was.  Apparently it's a dance club.  And apparently it's very trendy and very popular.  Not really my scene though, you know?  I am curious as what the German interpretation of "white trash" is though...  As I near the Goethe Institut I enter Mitte, Berlin's very young, post-wall, new heart.  There are shops, galleries and pleasant courtyards around ever corner in Mitte.&lt;br /&gt;Often in the morning before my class I take part in the Goethe Intitut arranged culture program events.  Lots of interesting walking tours (along the former the wall site, through the galleries in Mitte, or through Prenzlauerberg for example).  There are also museum visits and lectures.  Alles auf Deutsch of course. And at this point I understand pretty much everything which is really a good feeling.  I'd like to do even more of the events but I have a lot of homework.  And I'm sure no one will be surprised that I have a hard time not doing all of my homework, despite all the other amazing things to do around here.&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of homework, my class is going well.  I was intimidated the first few days but I think the level is actually just right.  My teacher is quite a character.  Up until a few day ago I could have written that she has exactly two colors in her wardrobe:  black and red.  This includes makeup, very red lipstick and very black eyeliner.  And hats.  Lots of red hats.  But this week she wore some blue!  Egad!  She speaks realllllly fast and makes no accommodations vocabulary-wise for us.  All of this is very good as it forces you to figure out how to function in native level German. And she is an amazing teacher, despite the fact that we seem to be the only class with a substantial amount of homework. She gives us projects that get us out in the city to explore.  We had a walking our/scavenger hunt in groups through Mitte.  Mine included finding a absinthe shop, a few very cool cafes, several galleries and some thought provoking memorials.  She also gave us a project where we had to go out to cafes around Berlin and write reviews.  And a project where we had to buy all sorts of different newspapers and then report back about what sort of papers they were, how hard to read, etc.  In class we read tons of very current and very interesting articles from Die Zeit and other not easy German papers.  We also have some incredibly difficult grammar exercises. &lt;br /&gt;For example:&lt;br /&gt;Nominalize as many verbs as possible in the following sentence:&lt;br /&gt;"The most important reason why a foreign word would be borrowed lies in understanding in the area where the newly named thing is going to take over."&lt;br /&gt;Ummm yeah.  It's hard even in English.  But thankfully it's hard for everyone in the class, not just for me.&lt;br /&gt;My classmates are by and large quite enjoyable people.  There are far too many of us Americans here, but then I'm part of that problem.  We'll not talk much about how I'm becoming good friends with two New Yorkers.  One of whom is a grad student at Columbia.  Opps.  Well I didn't know!  We were speaking German!  It took a while to figure it out.  There is also a woman from Nebraska in my class.  And Lincoln at that. But there are also people from Norway and Japan and Spain and Switzerland and Canada and Korea.  After class we often all go out to eat. And to drink.  I've been drinking a lot of beer here.  But hey, I'm in Germany.  And there's this little thing going on that you might have heard of.  The World Cup!&lt;br /&gt;Being in Germany for the World Cup is like nothing I've ever experienced.  Even Lincoln on Cornhusker gameday doesn't come close.  All of Berlin has Fußballfieber (football/soccer fever). People walk around wearing flags as capes, decked out in very silly hats, faces painted, flags flying from car windows, grown men wearing soccer ball costumes, well you get the picture.  And when Germany scores a goal you know, whether or not you yourself can see a TV.  The city explodes with yelling and horn honking.  And postgame it gets even louder.  It's pretty nuts.  This is all quite new for Germany, or so I've been told and so I've read&lt;br /&gt;(http://www.nytimes.com/2006/06/18/world/europe/18germany.html?ex=1308283200&amp;en=c077835a3e53b9ad&amp;ei=5088&amp;partner=rssnyt&amp;emc=rss)&lt;br /&gt; There are tons  of fans from other countries here too.  One night a group of quite drunk middle aged Swedes decided they wanted to have a conversation with my friend and I on the tram.  That was interesting.  One night a group of us were watching in a very pleasant Biergarten and when Germany won the restaurant bought everyone in the place a round!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/1600/BrandGate.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/320/BrandGate.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So then a final question, eh?  How's my German.  Well, getting better I think.  I understand most everything.  People don't answer me in English anymore.  I can say what I want to say and people understand me.  I just make a looooot of grammatical errors. Stupid prepositions.  They make no sense!&lt;br /&gt;As this has gotten awfully long I will stop writing.  I hope the summer is going well for all!&lt;br /&gt;Viele Grüße,&lt;br /&gt;Molly&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24095778-115131937066593801?l=nomadicmolly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/feeds/115131937066593801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24095778&amp;postID=115131937066593801' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/115131937066593801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/115131937066593801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/2006/06/daily-life-in-berlin.html' title='daily life in Berlin'/><author><name>Molly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03501294367567126688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24095778.post-115131930937382854</id><published>2006-06-26T03:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-28T18:50:30.286-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hallo Berlin!</title><content type='html'>8 June, 2006&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hallo alles!&lt;br /&gt;Well my wanderlust has again overtaken me.  Which must mean it's time for an email!&lt;br /&gt;I spent last week in London with my good friend Laetia.  We went on a Dickensian London walking tour, saw Coriolanus at the Globe and, never to be taken for granted in London, had a weekend of beautiful, warm weather.  London was expensive but lovely as always, though this time it was also completely covered with England flags (World Cup starts tomorrow!).  People even put flags on their cars.  I'd only ever before seen that in Nebraska.&lt;br /&gt;One usual activity this trip was exploring the banks of the Thames at low tide.  I spent a few hours with Laetia and her new friend (both archaeologists in training/archeology buffs) sifting though pipe stems, broken pottery and lots and lots of bones.  Sound strange?  Actually it was very interesting.  We came away not with shells but with skulls.  I guess thats what happens when you go beachcombing with archaeologists!&lt;br /&gt;Laetia and I also attended an event called "Late at the Tate Britain."  There we attended and *interesting* fashion show and also a talk about fashion that was given in British Sign Language, or BSL, (guess which of use chose that event!).  I'd always been told that BSL was extremely different from American Sign Language, but I'd never seen it before.  After seeing it I can affirm that yes, it's completely different!  I understood approximately 3 words. Thankfully it was also interpreted into English.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/1600/London.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/320/London.1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since soon enough I will be in the UK for a year, I decided it was time to get a UK cellphone.  You might think that would not be such a difficult task for a native English speaker in an English speaking country.  And you would be wrong.  While at the Carphone Warehouse (I bet someone is kicking her/himself for naming it that...) I asked the saleswoman there about where I could use the phone.  She helpfully explained to me that in order to not always pay roaming charges, I'd have to buy another SIM card (the card inside the phone that stores my number and all of my personal information) in Germany or whichever European country I was in.  Fine.  However, then I asked about using the phone in Latin America.  In Nicaragua the phones also have SIM cards (we don't use them in the USA) so naturally I wanted to know if I could buy a Nicaraguan SIM card and then use my phone there.  The salesperson's answer to my question of could I use the phone in Latin America?:&lt;br /&gt;"No. Canada, America and Japan have another system"&lt;br /&gt;Me:  "Right, but can I use it in Central America and South America?"&lt;br /&gt;Salesperson (sounding frustrated): "No. Canada, America and Japan have another system"&lt;br /&gt;Me:  "No, not in the US, in Latin America, for example in Nicaragua"&lt;br /&gt;SP:  "No. Canada, America and Japan have another system"&lt;br /&gt;No matter what I asked she gave no indication that she knew I was talking about other continents and not the Southern or Central USA. I guess Americans don't have a monopoly on world knowledge cluelessness.  Maybe she thought Nicaragua was somewhere near Texas...&lt;br /&gt;Anyway.  Now I am in Berlin.  As you all likely know, the World Cup begins tomorrow in Germany.  And here you certainly can tell.  The TV tower in Alexanderplatz is painted (decorated?) to look like a giant pink soccer ball.  &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/1600/Berlin%20TV%20Tower%20and%20Sophienkirche.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/320/Berlin%20TV%20Tower%20and%20Sophienkirche.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there are signs and flags everywhere.  Much as I like soccer though, that is not the reason I am here.  I'm here for four weeks taking an intensive German course at the Goethe Institut.  I am living with a woman with whom the institut matched me and I have class for five hours each day.  And perhaps I'm a little bit crazy, but I can't imagine what I'd rather be doing. I never test well on German placement tests for some reason, so yesterday, my first day of class, I was in a class that was not so difficult.  I was going back and forth with myself about whether to say something.  I know that my grammar is not good and they had placed me there, but it really did not seem like the right level. And I spent the whole morning today talking with people from higher levels without any problem.  So, in the end, I had decided to say something to my teacher today.  And then, before I had said a word, she came over to me and told me that she thought I should move to a higher class. I guess I was right!  So I moved up two levels (:-/) and now my class is MUCH more difficult.  It feels too fast, but I think that means it's just right.  I will certainly learn much more this way.&lt;br /&gt;Now I should be off.  Lots of verb forms to memorize!  I hope you all are well!&lt;br /&gt;Tschüss!&lt;br /&gt;Molly&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24095778-115131930937382854?l=nomadicmolly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/feeds/115131930937382854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24095778&amp;postID=115131930937382854' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/115131930937382854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/115131930937382854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/2006/06/hallo-berlin.html' title='Hallo Berlin!'/><author><name>Molly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03501294367567126688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24095778.post-114886044588912438</id><published>2006-05-28T16:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-23T02:45:42.993-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Vegas baby!</title><content type='html'>Greetings all,&lt;br /&gt;Up until now I have only ever written these e-mails when traveling abroad. However, my good friend Laura and I spent this past weekend in Vegas, and I think it's plenty foreign enough to merit a few musings.&lt;br /&gt;First of all, here's a list of classic Vegas activities in which I did not participate:&lt;br /&gt;1) Ascend the "Eiffel Tower". It was too windy. Apparently. I don't think they shut down the real Eiffel Tower due to wind. Silly American hyper safety concerns.&lt;br /&gt;2) See the Bellagio fountain show. Again, due to high winds.&lt;br /&gt;3) Gamble away my life savings. No need for that as my tuition bills for next year will suck them dry quite efficiently.&lt;br /&gt;4) See Wayne Newton. Self explanatory.&lt;br /&gt;5) Get married. However I did receive an offer while walking past the very classy Chapel of the Bells.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/1600/Vegas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/320/Vegas.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That said, Laura and I did partake in a number of typical Vegas attractions. We saw an Elvis impersonator. Actually we saw an Elvis impersonator, a Britney Spears impersonator, a Christina Aguilera impersonator, a Tim McGraw impersonator and MIchael Jackson impersonator. All in one show. And they were all quite good. Though the Britney impersonator has retro Britney abs instead of the current ever pregnant look. We saw one of the four (a fifth opens in June!) currently playing Cirque de Soleil shows. As far as we could make out it was about a baby turning into an enormous snail. Certainly stunning though. We ate more than we should have at the Excalibur buffet (hooray for American gluttony!). We gambled a bit (Laura won $5.75, I lost $25) and we ran across many, many weddings. (Bride count for the two days: 19)&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/1600/ParisVegas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/320/ParisVegas.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was my second trip to Vegas, but as the last one was when I was about 12, and all the mega casinos are 5-7 years old, the experience was quite new to me. A few observations on Las Vegas in general. The strip is quite long. We found this out our first day when we ended up walking nearly the entire length of it. Even for a New Yorker like me this led to some sore feet. The mega-city casinos look like Epcot at Disney World, only darker. Vegas-style Paris, New York and Venice are all way too clean, just like Disney. But with no windows. Or clocks. And more alcohol. Lots more alcohol. Approximately half of the escalators seem to be out of service at any given time. Suspiciously, they seem disproportionately to be the escalators leading out of the casinos. Hmmm. Las Vegas is full of swank restaurants but decidedly unswank patrons. Lots of tank tops and shorts. And about fifty percent of the women seem to have had half their clothing lost during the course of the day. This happy coincidence allows them to reveal to the entire world that they spend approximately 16 hours a day in the gym working on their abs. Las Vegas must also be the most smoker friendly city in the US. Though the casinos have some sort of crazy efficient ventilation system so you really don't smell it much. Perhaps this is just my having lived in New York too long, but everyone in Vegas is shockingly polite. I have grown quite unaccustomed to having people say "excuse me" when they slam into me on the street, let alone when they almost bump into me. That and the holding doors and having employees suggest ways for me to save money on the things I am purchasing from the store. Wow. Though Las Vegas walkers will never match the skill of New Yorkers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/1600/Laura%20in%20Vegas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3620/2495/320/Laura%20in%20Vegas.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now why did you go to Vegas this weekend, you ask? Aren't I leaving for Europe for several months very soon? The answer to the second question is yes, I leave tomorrow. The answer to the first is one word: MADONNA. Madonna is touring this summer and as her schedule is essentially the inverse that of my travel plans extreme measures were necessary for Laura and I to fulfill our plan to attend her tour. Hence the trip to Vegas. And we most certainly were not disappointed. She was fabulous. Amazing. Unbelievable. She's 47 and yet can dance and sing for two hours straight without losing her breath. And she looks better than most 17 year olds ever could hope to. She began the show by descending from the ceiling inside a huge disco ball. She was quite far away, even from our $175 seats, but her energy filled the entire arena. She performed just about all of her new album, along with a number of classics including "Lucky Star" and "Like a Virgin". Her tour is just starting and I highly recommend attending if you can. Well worth the (admittedly astronomical) ticket price.&lt;br /&gt;I hope you all are doing well. E-mails for London/Berlin/Austria are soon to come.&lt;br /&gt;Happy Memorial Day!&lt;br /&gt;Molly&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24095778-114886044588912438?l=nomadicmolly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/feeds/114886044588912438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24095778&amp;postID=114886044588912438' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/114886044588912438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/114886044588912438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/2006/05/vegas-baby.html' title='Vegas baby!'/><author><name>Molly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03501294367567126688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24095778.post-114705486107246008</id><published>2006-05-07T19:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-07T19:22:50.886-07:00</updated><title type='text'>¿Adónde vas, chela?</title><content type='html'>3 May 2006&lt;br /&gt;Buenos días de Managua.&lt;br /&gt;For those of you who don´t frequent this sweltering city of two million, here´s a translation of the subject line. "Adónde vas" means (in Nicargua or anywhere else Spanish speaking) "where are you going?".  Chela (or chele for a man) however is a very Nica word used to refer to people of my coloring.  According to the Real Academia dictionary, it comes from the Nahuatl (pre-conquistador language of much of Central America) for green or unripe. I find this etymology very amusing, but then that won´t surprise anyone.  Anyway, that is often how the taxi drivers ask me where I want to go.  No blending in for me down here as usual.&lt;br /&gt;Things are hectic (exciting?) as always in Managua.  A transit strike has been threatened to start each day, but every morning I wake up and still see the tricked out American school busses in the streets and know that thus far the strike has been averted.  I am very lucky to have a good taxista (cabbie) friend down here though, so I should be able to continue roaming the city seeking out deaf people strike or no strike.&lt;br /&gt;Overall things are going quite well on this, my first solo trip to Nicaragua.  The weather is as hot and humid as ever and the shower is as cold as ever.  I have learned a few new Nica words in the last week.  Guess how you say handcuffs in Spanish (or at least Nica Spanish)?  Esposas.  Yup, that´s right.  Wives.  Handuffs, wives, all the same.  Apparently.  Why have I learned the word for handcuffs you ask?  Well on my flight from Houston to Managua there were about 15 men handcuffed together on the plane.  I was not aware that people were deported on commercial flights.  Perhaps it´s another brilliant idea of W´s. . .&lt;br /&gt;In addition to Spanish I´ve been signing as much as my brain will allow.  It is getting easier and I no longer get lost for entire&lt;br /&gt;topics during a conversation. Can´t ask for much more than that.  I have however learned of one thing that makes it absolutely impossible for me to sign.  Holding a baby.  On Monday I visited one of our subjects here who had just had a baby.  He was very cute but I found it virtually impossible to converse while I had the baby in my arms.  She, on the other hand, had no problem at all.  I do, however, still have my special touch with Nica babies.  He peed all over me.  Now I am two for two!&lt;br /&gt;Daylight savings time started here early Sunday morning.  And I´d say that now, four days later, about half of the people down here know that the time has changed.  You can imagine this scheduling problems this causes.  Up until it actually happened about half of the people I talked to assured me that the time was not actually going to change because people hadn´t like the change last year.  The other half of the people I talked to said it was going to change, but most thought it would be on Monday.  Then I missed the first hour of a movie on Sunday because the movie theater thought the time had changed already.  It´s enough to make your head spin.  And to make it very hard to make appointments with people.  Hopefully in the next day or two everyone will synchronize.  Vamos a ver...&lt;br /&gt;I´m off to lunch now at Managua´s only organic restaurant.  Organic and air conditioned. Sometimes you have to spoil yourself.&lt;br /&gt;Hope you all are well!&lt;br /&gt;Saludos,&lt;br /&gt;Molly&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24095778-114705486107246008?l=nomadicmolly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/feeds/114705486107246008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24095778&amp;postID=114705486107246008' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/114705486107246008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/114705486107246008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/2006/05/adnde-vas-chela.html' title='¿Adónde vas, chela?'/><author><name>Molly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03501294367567126688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24095778.post-114566731877722119</id><published>2006-04-21T17:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-21T17:55:18.786-07:00</updated><title type='text'>predeparture thoughts</title><content type='html'>Well trip number one is fast approaching.  High time to get this blog in order.  &lt;br /&gt;On Thursday I leave for Nicaragua with my new antimalarials, about 100 pounds of equipment, and NO ONE ELSE!  This will be a first.  I'll be spending two weeks driving around Managua engaging in conversations something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me:  do you know where the deaf guy lives?&lt;br /&gt;managuan:   no.  &lt;br /&gt;OR&lt;br /&gt;the mute guy?&lt;br /&gt;me:  yes, do you know where s/he lives?&lt;br /&gt;managuan:  go to the little tree, go four blocks toward the sunrise (arriba, "up") and then two blocks toward the lake ("al lago").&lt;br /&gt;me:  thanks&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's just how Managuan addresses are.  Not that that means they necessarily work.  As often as not they don't.  And then you find another person to ask.  &lt;br /&gt;If I can find 5-10 older deaf people to work with I'll be satisfied.  That and if I can get the data tapes through security without having the airport inspectors destroy them!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24095778-114566731877722119?l=nomadicmolly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/feeds/114566731877722119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24095778&amp;postID=114566731877722119' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/114566731877722119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24095778/posts/default/114566731877722119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nomadicmolly.blogspot.com/2006/04/predeparture-thoughts.html' title='predeparture thoughts'/><author><name>Molly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03501294367567126688</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
