Since we have arrived here, we have gotten a surprising amount of "happy mail". I got birthday cards from the family, a letter from Miranda, a postcard from Mary, and Dad mailed me some computer speakers for my b-day. We have also received our tube of posters from Mary, who got roped into cheerfully volunteered to send us a bunch of our stuff.

Today, upon arriving home, I spied a package. The name said [Mary's last name], but the address was her mom's.

"Hmmm.." I said to myself. "Why would Mary have driven our books or KitchenAid across to [her hometown] to mail them to us?"

I opened the package, and started laughing. Here's why:



Yes, that's right, every American delight ever! Funnily enough, that makes three people who have sent us or are now sending us Kraft Mac. Seriously, if you ever need a food staple, post about it and people will respond! (I found out about he aforementioned three kraft packages in just such a manner as to not know until all three had been sent.)

In addition, notice the box of cat cookies (Best food ever, pretty much), brownie mix (of which Matt and I have sorely felt the lack), Flamin' Hot Cheetos (no explanation needed), etc.

By the way, Mary, I have not read the McCall Smith book, and I am excited to! My cheesy mysteries of choice have been the Inspector Rebus novels by Ian Rankin, a local novelist. You should check him out!

Thank you SO much, Mary and Margaret (and Mira, who donated some hairs)! You got us so much that we wanted and some stuff we didn't realize we missed until we saw it! You made our whole week, you two. You are swell.

Hi there, this is Matt, the non-Jeni half of Matt and Jeni. Jeni will probably be the primary one posting on this page, but every now and then I'll take a few minutes to chip in my two pence. Today's post won't be very profound, but instead will deal with the daily trivia of money, more specifically, the wide variety of coins you'll encounter over here.

This picture will give you a quick overview:The U.K. has a one pound and a two pound coin.This means that on a college student's budget you will be dealing in coins 90% of the time. In fact, I've heard they exist but I've yet to see a pound note since I've gotten here. Almost all the transactions we make have been in pound coins. It may feel weird at first to have so much monetary power wrapped up in one little coin but you'll get used to it. Although the pound coin is smaller in diameter than a quarter, it is considerably thicker and its bulk helps lend some credibility to its value.Up next is 50p (a.k.a. Fiddy Pent?) 50p is somewhere between the size of a quarter and a 50 cent piece. Its funny shape is kind of cool. Way more common than Big Ones in the states, these are actual coins used regularly.

From Here on Out it Gets Kind of Screwy

I think the only thing more American than apple pie and baseball games is the quarter. When you see ol' George's head on this ubiquitous coin it brings back childhood memories of long summer days, arcade games, ice cream trucks and endless possibilities. The quarter is perhaps the first money of any real, substantial value that we got our grubby little hands on as kids. We're used to pumping quarters into vending machines, jukeboxes, washers and dryers and parking meters. When ever you get change back, it'll be primarily in quarters. 25 cents, two-bits, half a Big One: however you think of it I think it's safe to say that the quarter is a foundational part of the American collective consciousness. Why have on gone on about the quarter for so long? Because upon arriving in the U.K., what shook my belief in the goodness of humanity and the intelligence of our decision to move over here more than anything else was the fact that for some unnatural reason, the Brits decided to subdivide their currency not in to quarters, but into , get this, fifths.Another one of those funny-shaped coins, 20p will have you questioning your foundational assumptions about the world for quite a while until you get used to five of them going into a pound instead of four. But once you get used to that, it turns out they're still quite handy for doing laundry.

Talk About Being Nickeled and Dimed to Death

Turns out, there actually is something more disturbing than the unnaturally derived 20p coin. Take a look at these:Yes, the 10p coin is the big one and the 5p coin is the small one. While this does actually make a lot of sense if you correlate size with value, like every good American should, it goes against years of conditioning with backwards American nickels and dimes. You think I'm making a bigger deal of this than it is? Our first week here Jeni started verbally abusing our dryer and nearly had a nervous breakdown when it kept returning her dime sized 5p coin. "It says you take 10p coins, you stupid piece of....!!!" I'm just warning you, emotional instability brought on by unfamiliar currency is a real danger.

Oh Yeah, and This is a Really Great Idea

Everyone in America has to figure out something to do with their pennies. Whether they just fill up a pocket, couch or jar, pennies certainly seem to be a relic of a bygone financial era. I think pretty much the only reason we have pennies is for the rush of satisfaction you feel when you manage to be able to make perfect change and get rid of them. It must get awfully lonely to be a coin that no one wants. So, in the spirit of compassion, the Brits have given their penny company.Yes, that's two, count them, two, nearly completely worthless coins in the place of the one you were used to in the U.S. And, the 2p is frickin' huge. All it does in your pocket is get in the way and limit your access to coins that are actually useful. Also, gone is the satisfaction of making perfect change and getting rid of these monetary vermin, because when you have to get around the city completely on foot, who wants a pocket full of useless coins janglin' around?

Odds and Ends

I've feel I must repent of my abuse of the penny. While monetarily it is almost worthless, it does carry a portrait of Abraham Lincoln, and like any red-blooded American, I get a warm and woozy feeling all up inside whenever I think about that great statesman. So at least the penny provides the occasional quiet moment of patriotic bliss, if nothing else. Over here, you get the Queen. On every single coin. A whole pocket full of the Queen. The Queen younger, the Queen older, but always the Queen. Occasionally the tails sides have cool things like dragons, but how can you compete with Monticello? Dragon vs. Monticello? Monticello's totally throwin' down. Also, unless I just haven't learned them yet, the coins over here aside from the penny don't have cool names like quarter, nickel, dime or Big One. It's much more cumbersome to ask, "May I get my change back in twenty pence pieces," than it is to ask, "Can I get that back in quarters?"

I bet that's the longest blog post you ever read about coins, huh? Perhaps a future post will cover paper money, or even some more practical matters like opening a bank account. Of course, we haven't been quite able to figure that one out yet, so give us a few weeks.

On Friday morning, I looked out the window before getting dressed, as I always do, to check the weather. I picked up this habit in Spokane, where it can be t-shirt temperature one day and below zero (Fahrenheit) the next.

The sky outside the window looked gray and dreary, much as it had the previous 4 mornings. Experience told me that I would need a light coat in case it was windy or drizzly, but otherwise I would be fine. When Matt rolled over in bed, he remarked that the news station had reported a chance of rain. "No problem," I said, "I'll grab an umbrella just in case."

I put on a brown t-shirt, khakis, and me red coat. I also put on flip-flops, since the sneakers I bought before leaving L.A. have turned out to be a half-size too big, and my trusty clogs are somehow giving me blisters. My flip-flops are fine for me even in drizzle, since I'm used to wearing them in inclement Spokane weather.

During lunch at Easter Bush, I looked out the cafe window to check the weather. A breeze had picked up, seemingly clearing the sky. The sun was out and it was fairly warm. But about 40 minutes before class ended, I heard a faint noise coming from outside. A "shhhhhhhh" noise. A rainy noise. Walking toward the entrance, I saw with a sinking heart that rain was pouring down in torrential, ark-necessitating buckets. As I ran to the bus, my only thought was "I hope it isn't this bad in the city!"

It wasn't, but it wasn't good, either. Matt met me at my bus (awww) looking a lot like a wet dog. A handsome wet dog in a grey coat. We walked/ waded back to the flat, the wind causing my umbrella to invert twice. The wind seemed to be coming from underneath us, oddly enough, while the rain seemed to come straight at us. If anyone wants to have a go at the physics of this phenomenon, feel free.

Upon arriving home (having used the umbrella the entire way), Matt took this picture of me:



Notice the soaking wet coat, shirt, and hair, the completely drenched khakis (completely as in up to the thigh), and the sad, cold feet peeking out of the flip-flops.

Next time they call for rain, I'll just wear my Wellies.

So, in lieu of actual posting, I decided to tidy some things up around this site. I added the quotes section, changed some of the title bars, fiddled with a few layout issues, etc.

Classes for this summer section are crazy. I show up for the bus at 8ish, which takes us out to Easter Bush. As you may recall, the vet school is currently bilocational, with a city campus (Summerhall) and a country campus (Easter Bush). Within the next couple of years, the school will move over to Easter Bush completely. It is beautiful and spacious out there, with amenities and rural goodness to spare. Some features include a huge small animal clinic and hospital, a farm animal hospital, an equine hospital, an exotic animal clinic and hospital, lecture center, stable, sheep pens, cattle handling barn, etc. Zowie, it is a winner!

Anyway, we have lecture at the Bush until about 5 p.m., when we pack into the bus to head back to the city. Then it's about a 20 minute walk back to the flat, where i quickly devour everything I can see, then study and relax a bit before bed.

Some lecture topics so far:
-Farm Animal Emergencies
-Radiographic anatomy
-Compound Feed Production
-Veterinary Biotechnology (cell and molecular stuff)
-Cellular Pathology
-Cinical Case Studies
-Genetic Function and Dysfunction
-Embryology
-Histology Intro
-Epidemiology and Veterinary Statistics
-and much, much more!

In addition, we have had practical units on horse handling and sheep handling, and labs in Embryology and histology. This summer course really covers a wide range of topics; I think/hope that we will focus more oce the school year starts. In the meantime, I am trying to figure out how to get archives on this page so you can go through the earlier posts at your collective leisure.

Hey guys, sorry for the lack of posting lately. It turns out, I have classes that eat up all my good blogging time! They've been pretty fun, though cellular physiology is over my head. I got to play with sheep yesterday, which made me quite happy. They are so funny!

Today, we have several embryology lectures, an embryology lab, a discussion in molecular medicine, and a nutrition lecture. If I'm not too dead by the time classes are done, I'll tell you about my class schedule and put some quotes up.

Cheers!

As I was sitting in my Indroductory Pathology lecture this morning, I remembered that long long ago, when I was a lowly undergrad, I used to write down funny quotes from lecturers to stay awake/focused while in class. Would you be interested in those funny quotes? Or would that be too sciency for y'all?


I miss you!

Well, I am about 1/2way through my 1st day as a veterinary student here. So far, we have had about 47 introductory lectures on everything from The Animal Body to Personal and Profesional Development to Drug Safety.

This afternoon, I will go all the way to the Old University (about 30 metres from our flat) to register and matriculate. Tomorrow, we go to Easter Bush to tour and have a few lectures, and Wednesday we will begin formal lectures (i.e., boring lectures).

Wahoo!

As Matt and I have passed our 1 week-aversary of living in Edinburgh, I figure I'd take some time to tell you about a very important factor in UK living:

Comestibles.

Matt and I, for the most part, have eaten well so far. I make us baked potatoes pretty regularly, or we have pasta, or fake-adillas (no real tortillas here), or toast. Eating out is pretty good, especially kebab or hot chocolate or our new favorites, sausage rolls. Those are basically two sausages cut lengthwise and put on a plain roll. Mmm. Also, we had veggie curry and burritos at the Forest yesterday, which were both good. Snack such as ice cream cones with Cadbury Flake, or oatcakes, or Nutella, are delicious. There is a distinct lack of spicy food over here, which is heartbreaking, but we've been able to manage. And the water in Edinburgh tastes great!

There is a dark side, however. Basic food staples like butter and cheddar taste, well, different. Not exactly gross, but not quite tasty, either. We haven't found a sliced bread that tastes very good. But the worst of all this, my friends, are the american brands

*When Good Food Goes Bad*

The day started innocently enough. Matt and I had gone to Tesco, our neighbourhood grocery, looking for some asic eating delights. We needed bread and beer and pasta and peanut butter, and we found all these things.

While Matt was innocently surveying the pasta, he gasped and grabbed my arm. "Jeni," he breathed, not daring to tear his eyes away from the spot, "Look."

I looked. There, like a mirage on the horizon of some forbidden desert, was this.



I shrieked with pleasure. "Kraft! Yes! Get ten boxes! 20!"

You may not know this about Matt and I, but we LOVE Kraft Mac and Cheese. What is a bland necessity for most people is a source of cheesy, 39 cent delight for us. With cayenne, stewed tomatoes, peas, tuna, or just by its own sweet self, it has always been welcome in our pantry. Many of you know that 2 times we have hosted a "top your own mac" night, where friends have gathered with a variety of mix-ins and we have provided a big pot of the orangey noodles.

Matt, though clearly as excited as I was, took the more cautious role. “Let’s just get one box and see how it is. We’re really close o the store if we want more.” I reluctantly agreed, and one precious box went into the bag to take home.

Once home, I excitedly began preparing my friend, the Kraft. After cooking and draining the noodles, I dumped them back into the pot with the butter and milk, then tore open the package of cheesy powder.

I gagged. What?!? This powder smelled like refuse on the side of a dark alleyway. However, I know from experience that some things smell bad but taste good (hello, sliced lunch-meat, orange juice, and cumin). So I bravely stirred it all together, added some cayenne, and took a bite.

“Bluccchhh...” I sputtered, as Matt looked at me in alarm. I spit it into a paper towel and ran to the fridge to slog some O.J., looking ill. “Not... good... echh... rancid...”

Matt, ever patient with what some my consider “histrionics” and I consider “self-expression”, walked over to the stove. He sniffed cautiously, then recoiled. “That smells terrible.” He looked at the expiration date. “It it still within the date, though.”

Oh, Kraft Mac, how could you be so bad if you are still good?

Today we went for another long walk (kind of the modus operandi around here). We walked the touristy way up to the castle, looking at a few of the tat shops up there. Matt tried whisky at one of the shops, an I found some absolutely gorgeous jewelry at another.

We then made our way down to the Princes St. Mall, where we found spicy chicken sandwiches for 99p at KFC and a Cadbury Flake McFlurry at McDonalds. Not really traditional scottish fare, but lunch for 2 for under £3, so it couldn’t be too bad!
After our fine dining experience, we went to Calton Hill, a pleasant walk up to where a bunch of monuments stand. It also had some incredible views of the castle, Holyrood Park, Leith, and the Firth of Forth. Matt was able to climb up onto the Edinburgh Disgrace, a would-be monument to Scottish soldiers that was never finished. Alas, my bulky awkwardness reared itself, and I couldn’t climb up. Boo for being large and clumsy. But I got a really cute picture of Matt hugging one of the pillars that you’ll see as soon as we get our “pictures & videos” page up and running.

Anyway, we were going to go to the kitchen that is run by the local mosque to get some curry chicken for dinner (£3/ person for a huge portion, so we’re told), but Matt feels like staying in so we’ll do that instead.

Cheers!