Just in case you think my previous post is unkind to England, I thought I’d write about a side of Oxford that really doesn’t exist in Boulder. It is true that comfort and convenience are very important to Americans, but they are not such strong aesthetics in England, so it is a little unfair to compare the two of them on those terms. Previous posts, “Have a Great Day!” and "Bear with me a moment" show some of the contrast between the two places with what I hope is a more balanced perspective. If "Boulder moments" was a pro-Boulder post, here is a pro-Oxford post.
One of the things that Oxford has that is sorely lacking in Boulder is history. The depth of culture and infrastructure in Oxford is immense. This is both an asset and a burden. It is a wonderful cultural resource and the traditions of the past are beautiful and powerful, but it also makes it hard to change or strive for new ideals when there is so much depth already. A friend in Oxford recently emailed me that her son’s primary school is celebrating its anniversary this year---its 525th anniversary. It is hard for me to even imagine being in elementary school as part of a 525-year history. That really puts a child’s primary-school years in perspective. Years that seem earth shattering and of fundamental importance to your family are but a blip in the span of history. That alone tells you a lot about the contrast between Boulder and Oxford. Here, an “older house” is more than 20 years old. The oldest school in Boulder just had its 100th anniversary.
When we first moved to Oxford, we rented a house from the University sight unseen. I asked a few questions before we moved such as, “Is it a modern house or a historic house?” It seemed a simple question. In my experience a house was either modern, or, if it was old enough to no longer be modern, it was likely to be “historic.” I was a bit surprised when the answer came back, “Neither.”
In England, there is a whole range of houses that fall in between the “modern” and “historic” designations. If a house “needed modernization” that might mean it predated indoor plumbing or heating, but that house wouldn’t necessarily be historic, unless it was famous for something or had pedigree. A historic house that wasn’t famous for something, needed to be really, really old, centuries old, a mere hundred years is not enough.
The house we first lived in in Oxford was truly neither. Built in the 1930s in a Tudor-revival style, it might qualify as historic in America, but was just a plain old house in England. Plumbing and heating had been added after the house was built and there was a bathroom addition in the rear. We were charmed by the house, the large trees in the yard, and by our view of a thatched cottage across the street. That cottage was historic, as was the stone farmhouse up the lane.
Contrast that with our first University-rented place in Boulder where we had a third-floor, 1980s apartment in a development of other identical apartments near the intersection of two main roads and across the street from acres of parking lots and endless shopping opportunities in large, big-box chain stores. That is the American way. It was comfortable and convenient, but had no personality or charm.
I remember fondly my walk to the shops from our Oxford house. In England, every neighborhood has a small, compact row of shops with a grocer and pub and perhaps a pharmacy or a hardware store or butcher and post office. (Unfortunately these seem to be slowly dying out, but they are still in most neighborhoods in Oxford today.) These shops are small, human-scale places that are usually family-run and visited regularly by those who live in the area. I soon found out that, given the size of refrigerators (small, more on English refrigerators later) and the lack of closets, why a store was called a store. It was where you would store your stuff until you needed it. Large containers and any surplus was a bother. It was much more pleasant to walk down to the shops every day or so to pick up what you needed. You could pick up fresh milk and bread, chat with the shopkeepers, and meet people from the neighborhood. Yes, it took a lot of time, yes it was not the best selection or the best price, but you got some exercise, you met face to face with the people who lived near you, and you bought things in manageable quantities that you could carry.
And to be honest, I kind of enjoyed the kind of living in England that made you think more about how you used things. When we would turn on the hot water, the boiler in the kitchen would lurch into action, reminding us that hot water is not free. Driving was so unpleasant and parking so difficult, that we walked or rode our bikes instead. Closets were small so you had fewer clothes. But that was okay because the washing machines were also small so you washed more frequently. People did not have tumble dryers. There were clotheslines. In Boulder, with its dry, sunny climate, clotheslines are illegal, considered an eyesore. Things here are all so seemingly automatic and convenient that excess is the rule rather than the exception. Like I said, I’m finding it hard to get used to. Something about the struggle in England made me feel just a little more bothered but also a little bit more alive.
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query oxford. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query oxford. Sort by date Show all posts
Saturday, April 23, 2005
Friday, April 22, 2005
Boulder moments
The only problem with Boulder is that there is no problem with Boulder. I can’t seem to get used to how pleasant and easy things are here. I also can’t understand how people can be so idealistic and think that things can and should be even better. And not only do they think it, but then they somehow go and manage to actually make it happen. It is unreal, I tell you. A woman I met at the pool was talking about this great dinner she had at a new French restaurant on Pearl Street. She ordered the lobster with chocolate sauce. I mean, really! That is so Boulder, to combine two exquisite things and just enjoy it. For me, the whole idea takes getting used to, but she has lived here for a while and she has the Boulder attitude, saying, “It was great, I want more lobster with chocolate sauce!” Then, no doubt, she'll make it happen. I have started calling these effortless, easy, idealistic, and undeniably pleasant times we’ve had since moving here “Boulder Moments.”
One of the first things we do after arriving in Boulder is go to the public library for an event based on the Harry Potter books. In Oxford, there were no such events at the library. The public library in Oxford, that seat of learning, has no computerized catalog, no card catalog, and no bathrooms. It does, however, have an excellent and up-to-date video collection. The Oxford public library had public lectures and an occasional story hour for children, but never a "Harry Potter Day," even though parts of the film were filmed in Oxford and the actress who played Hermione is from Oxford. Such an event would seem too much of an obstacle to put on, too frivolous, too expensive, too crowded, too much of a good idea.
But in Boulder, it’s one of those ordinary yet extraordinary events. We enter the modern library building (round stone entry hall with glass ceiling, multiple computer terminals for the internet and library catalog, large trout aquarium, three-dimensional relief map of Boulder and surrounding areas, a fountain with live plants under wide spiral stairs---and I am sure that, even as I write of it’s beauty and extravagance, there are people planning or dreaming up improvements to this entry) and see many people dressed up as characters from the Harry Potter series. After going through the turnstile marked “Platform 9 3/4” we are greeted by “Prof McGonagall” in cloak and pointed hat as she directs us to the “Hogwarts classroom” where the “magic class” is about to begin.
After the magic show, we circulate in the spacious children's reading room and try our hand at secret codes and other activity booths. It is a well-attended event, but not crowded, with plenty of volunteers manning the tables. It strikes me how people have no impetus at all to hide their childlike enthusiasm, how creative and unique behavior is not just tolerated, but expected and encouraged. This event is no joke, but serious fun. “Draco, Draco,” one mother quite calmly calls out, searching for her child who is in character.
Later, we return to the classroom for a presentation of live owls. Five live owls, here in the library. We learn a lot about the different owls as they stare at us in turn with their large, wise, and wild eyes. The kids are in awe.
We’ve been here a few hours now and we start to get hungry, but hey, look at this, there is a café in the library. Uncrowded, cheap, and tasty (need I say this is a nearly impossible-to-find combination in England?) it is located on a bridge over Boulder creek. We eat while admiring the snowy scene beneath. Then, when finished with our snack, there are bathrooms, right here, in the library! It is all a bit much to take in, our first Boulder moment.
A few weeks later, Greg and I need to get our bikes tuned up. A bike shop on the west side of town has been recommended to us. So we plan an evening where we ride our bikes into town after work with the kids, drop off our bikes, go out to dinner, and take the bus home. The bike shop welcomes us with what can only be called open arms. There is a person manning the wide, spacious doors, opening them and encouraging us inside. (Now in England, there might have been a friendly person to help you in the door, but it wouldn’t have been a wide one, and more likely there would be someone who would enjoy watching you struggle to get the bike in the door by yourself and they might even add a little “tsk, tsk” as if this was your just penance for past sins.) Once inside, we are greeted by a crew of enthusiastic youth (as opposed to one or two less-than-enthusiastic, overburdened workers you’d likely find in Oxford, or the one know-it-all, hassled, pretentious, and enthusiastic youth). Five helpful people immediately surround our bicycles, mount them on stands, and give a quick triage of the situation. It is not only easy and effortless, it is pleasant! We feel like royalty. Moments (as opposed to eons) later, with bicycle claim checks in our pockets, we walk towards town to find a place to eat.
Two blocks down the street we find a family-friendly pasta restaurant—not a chain—with outdoor seating, efficient service, and a children’s menu. Happily sated with simple Italian fare, we continue towards the bus through the Pearl Street Mall, which is not a mall at all, but the walking and shopping street in downtown Boulder. I am struck by the way this outdoor, public place caters to children as well as adults (as opposed to the English tradition of segregating children’s activities off into nurseries, churches, and family centers, because, as everyone knows, children are noisy and unpredictable, a blight on polite society). Here in downtown Boulder, each block has some sort of activity designed specifically to amuse and entertain children (as opposed to tantalize and frustrate them). In one block, there are fountains, on another, rocks to climb, on the next, a walled area with large animal sculptures. When Rees asks, “Can I climb on that?” I have to think a minute before I realize I can say, “Yes!” It is almost as if children are somehow considered to be an amenity! As if happy, amused children could actually be pleasant to have around! What a revolutionary idea!
We think things are going too well until we pass a Ben and Jerry’s ice cream shop and find that they are giving out free ice cream that day. While I get the ice cream—did I say it was free?—I don’t have to keep a short leash on the boys as they are happily amused, playing on some rocks. Waiting in line, I am asked if I am registered to vote. Hey, that was something else I’ve been meaning to do since the move. I’ll just check that off the list right now. It’s another Boulder moment.
Sometime after that, we are moving into our new house and it is nearing lunchtime. We don’t want anything heavy to eat so think we’ll try the grocery store down the road. Maybe they have a deli, or maybe even a café. We park outside and I walk in the doors. Sure enough, I can see café-style tables and chairs for dining. It’s Saturday morning but the store is not crowded. It’s attractive too with live plants, wooden shelves, and tile flooring. There are even two men playing acoustic guitar and singing. This is it, I think, we have found the place. I am taking it all in, the perfection of it, when I hear a voice behind me say, “Excuse me…would you like a massage?” It’s like she read my mind. We’re never moving away from this town, I decide, and I’M doing the shopping. Somehow, I’m just going to have to get used to it.
One of the first things we do after arriving in Boulder is go to the public library for an event based on the Harry Potter books. In Oxford, there were no such events at the library. The public library in Oxford, that seat of learning, has no computerized catalog, no card catalog, and no bathrooms. It does, however, have an excellent and up-to-date video collection. The Oxford public library had public lectures and an occasional story hour for children, but never a "Harry Potter Day," even though parts of the film were filmed in Oxford and the actress who played Hermione is from Oxford. Such an event would seem too much of an obstacle to put on, too frivolous, too expensive, too crowded, too much of a good idea.
But in Boulder, it’s one of those ordinary yet extraordinary events. We enter the modern library building (round stone entry hall with glass ceiling, multiple computer terminals for the internet and library catalog, large trout aquarium, three-dimensional relief map of Boulder and surrounding areas, a fountain with live plants under wide spiral stairs---and I am sure that, even as I write of it’s beauty and extravagance, there are people planning or dreaming up improvements to this entry) and see many people dressed up as characters from the Harry Potter series. After going through the turnstile marked “Platform 9 3/4” we are greeted by “Prof McGonagall” in cloak and pointed hat as she directs us to the “Hogwarts classroom” where the “magic class” is about to begin.
After the magic show, we circulate in the spacious children's reading room and try our hand at secret codes and other activity booths. It is a well-attended event, but not crowded, with plenty of volunteers manning the tables. It strikes me how people have no impetus at all to hide their childlike enthusiasm, how creative and unique behavior is not just tolerated, but expected and encouraged. This event is no joke, but serious fun. “Draco, Draco,” one mother quite calmly calls out, searching for her child who is in character.
Later, we return to the classroom for a presentation of live owls. Five live owls, here in the library. We learn a lot about the different owls as they stare at us in turn with their large, wise, and wild eyes. The kids are in awe.
We’ve been here a few hours now and we start to get hungry, but hey, look at this, there is a café in the library. Uncrowded, cheap, and tasty (need I say this is a nearly impossible-to-find combination in England?) it is located on a bridge over Boulder creek. We eat while admiring the snowy scene beneath. Then, when finished with our snack, there are bathrooms, right here, in the library! It is all a bit much to take in, our first Boulder moment.
A few weeks later, Greg and I need to get our bikes tuned up. A bike shop on the west side of town has been recommended to us. So we plan an evening where we ride our bikes into town after work with the kids, drop off our bikes, go out to dinner, and take the bus home. The bike shop welcomes us with what can only be called open arms. There is a person manning the wide, spacious doors, opening them and encouraging us inside. (Now in England, there might have been a friendly person to help you in the door, but it wouldn’t have been a wide one, and more likely there would be someone who would enjoy watching you struggle to get the bike in the door by yourself and they might even add a little “tsk, tsk” as if this was your just penance for past sins.) Once inside, we are greeted by a crew of enthusiastic youth (as opposed to one or two less-than-enthusiastic, overburdened workers you’d likely find in Oxford, or the one know-it-all, hassled, pretentious, and enthusiastic youth). Five helpful people immediately surround our bicycles, mount them on stands, and give a quick triage of the situation. It is not only easy and effortless, it is pleasant! We feel like royalty. Moments (as opposed to eons) later, with bicycle claim checks in our pockets, we walk towards town to find a place to eat.
Two blocks down the street we find a family-friendly pasta restaurant—not a chain—with outdoor seating, efficient service, and a children’s menu. Happily sated with simple Italian fare, we continue towards the bus through the Pearl Street Mall, which is not a mall at all, but the walking and shopping street in downtown Boulder. I am struck by the way this outdoor, public place caters to children as well as adults (as opposed to the English tradition of segregating children’s activities off into nurseries, churches, and family centers, because, as everyone knows, children are noisy and unpredictable, a blight on polite society). Here in downtown Boulder, each block has some sort of activity designed specifically to amuse and entertain children (as opposed to tantalize and frustrate them). In one block, there are fountains, on another, rocks to climb, on the next, a walled area with large animal sculptures. When Rees asks, “Can I climb on that?” I have to think a minute before I realize I can say, “Yes!” It is almost as if children are somehow considered to be an amenity! As if happy, amused children could actually be pleasant to have around! What a revolutionary idea!
We think things are going too well until we pass a Ben and Jerry’s ice cream shop and find that they are giving out free ice cream that day. While I get the ice cream—did I say it was free?—I don’t have to keep a short leash on the boys as they are happily amused, playing on some rocks. Waiting in line, I am asked if I am registered to vote. Hey, that was something else I’ve been meaning to do since the move. I’ll just check that off the list right now. It’s another Boulder moment.
Sometime after that, we are moving into our new house and it is nearing lunchtime. We don’t want anything heavy to eat so think we’ll try the grocery store down the road. Maybe they have a deli, or maybe even a café. We park outside and I walk in the doors. Sure enough, I can see café-style tables and chairs for dining. It’s Saturday morning but the store is not crowded. It’s attractive too with live plants, wooden shelves, and tile flooring. There are even two men playing acoustic guitar and singing. This is it, I think, we have found the place. I am taking it all in, the perfection of it, when I hear a voice behind me say, “Excuse me…would you like a massage?” It’s like she read my mind. We’re never moving away from this town, I decide, and I’M doing the shopping. Somehow, I’m just going to have to get used to it.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Oxford, a year ago last June...
The first update: last year's summer trip to England and Norway.
Oxford
I’m sitting at the Rose Hill Oval, having stupidly bought a day pass for myself and the kids, forgetting that there are two bus companies in Oxford and a pass is only good on one. Just missed the number 3 bus so have to wait 20 minutes (it's Sunday) for the next one. It's all coming back so slowly.
Kadin turns out to be a very excited traveler and had a great time with the moving sidewalks at the airport. He was determined to figure out everything himself.
We arrived Friday and felt pretty good. At least I am speaking for myself. It was HOT! Okay, only in the 70s with clear, clear blue sky, but the humidity made clothes feel warmer. And I just couldn't believe that people were choosing to sit in the sun. Just as I couldn't believe when we first moved to Colorado that people would actually close their curtains to the sun. We walked around the city centre and ended up at the new Castle development. It was nice and spacious and they had outdoor seating at the child-friendly Pizza Express. When I had just about finished with my salad, Kadin remembered that he had left his bag (a small thing he was given on the airplane) at Boswell's toy store. I volunteered to go back to get it. Traipsed across town to find they had closed shortly after we left and would open the next day at 9:05am. 9:05? Thought I would try again then.
Went back to the flat and with some encouragement and cajoling, all fell asleep shortly after the 9 o'clock chimes of Tom Tower. I slept intermittently until about 8:30 the next morning. There was a party next door. At one point, it was getting light out and I heard lots of people talking and moving about. I assumed it was morning and people were off to work. Then I remembered it was Saturday and when I checked the clock, it was only 3:30am. So, it would seem this was not the morning commotion, but the continuing commotion from the night before. By "real" morning, Boulder's night, we were all sound asleep. I did wake about 8:30 and walked up to Boswells, easily found the bag, and then noticed that the bank would be open in about half-an-hour so thought I'd walk around a bit until then. It was novel moving about Oxford by myself. I didn't have any small bodies to keep track of or specific errands to attend to. It felt so freeing. Nice and early in the morning, too, less crowded. When the bank opened, the guy at the bank was even nice and chatty and gave me lots of good, unhurried information. I then bought two lattés and headed back to the apartment.
By 11am everyone else was up and about and we got to the Trefethen's for lunch, though pretty late in the end---bought flowers, got a Taxi, etc.
It was so great to visit with them. Unfortunately we missed Jacob, but they have very full lives! We walked down to the park by Rainbow bridge and had a picnic by the Cherwell river. Luckily, Nick was also interested in watching the World Cup soccer game, so we saw the first half of the England game at their house before Ann drove us to our next appointment at Hinksey park to meet Rees' old friend Daniel. We went to the outdoor swimming pool in our old neighborhood, the nearby playground, and the little store next to our house. Despite wearing wet suits and the weather being about as warm and clear as it ever gets, the kids got very cold at the pool! Wow, they are now weather wimps! Rees, Daniel, and Kadin even got to ride the little yellow paddle boats that they were too young to go in when we lived here. England won the game "one nil" as expected and everyone was in a festive mood. The pool probably would have been more crowded had there not been a game.
We explored some more on the way home and, as we were all very tired, opted to eat in rather than risk a temper tantrum by one of the kids at the Head of the River. I went out and got some provisions, and we collapsed into bed again after a full day of exercise and sun. Veggie samosas very popular.
Greg said he remembered the feeling of almost constant embarrassment he had while we lived in England, the feeling that you are almost always doing something wrong. I remembered overwhelming feelings of being tied down. When I was out walking around by myself it just was so novel and something I almost never did when we lived here. And I don't remember ever thinking that people in Oxford dressed particularly interestingly or flatteringly, and maybe it was the unusually warm weather, but I was really struck by how appallingly people dressed. I don't know if people in Oxford are just more comfortable with their bodies and so less self-conscious or if they just don't realize how bad they look! Fit bodies that were well taken care of were few and far between. Tortured and tacky seemed the rule.
Sunday, Rees went to see William in the morning. I chatted with Mark in the garden. It was very nice and I started remembering some of the gentle pleasures of the English garden. One of Kadin's big memories, besides the shark in the house, is going to the Sainsbury's with Grandpa. So Kadin and I headed out and got on the number 3 bus to the Rose Hill Oval. I felt foreign and empowered to ask the driver directions to the walking bridge over the ring road. He knew all the back paths and we found it with no problem. We bought water, marmite (two large jars, at a cost of 4 pounds each), apricots, apples, and toilet paper. I even asked a thug on the way back if the bus stopped on Speedwell street. I liked being able to be foreign and anonymous.
We got back on the bus to Temple Cowley after lunch in the flat. Met up with Ceri, Rebecca, Alex, and Theo (new!) at the pool. Rees went in the men's changing room. When I got out of the women's changing room to the pool, Rebecca said Rees couldn't go in. Hmmm. Yes he could. Then I found out the story was that Rees and Kadin were not allowed to swim in their wet suits as it "restricted movement" and was "against policy." I argued with the guy for a while: it's a shallow pool, I'll be with them, wet suits are designed for swimming, we swam at Hinksey all the previous day, etc. Finally asked to speak to the manager. He appeared and basically said, "I have no problem with it." And we were able to swim after all. Sigh.
Visited with Ceri et al. at her house. House is the same and she is as orderly as ever, cutting up fruit for the kids, pouring them all juice, and they all wash hands, sit down to eat politely, and get up when they are finished. With a fourth kid on the way this is a good thing.
I called Annie and she was suffering a migrane. Wasn't sure she wanted me to come, but she did, so called Greg and said we'd meet him there. Then, since I had bought a day pass for Stagecoach, I thought I couldn't take a bus to Annie's so we decided to walk. Also to kill time to give Annie some more peace. Turns out the number 16 bus did in fact run and was now changed to Stagecoach, but runs only once an hour. Annie told me a bit of the story: It is the only bus to cross the Donnington Bridge and there are older people who have lived in the area all their lives who rely on the bus. And, since the bus ran only once every half-an-hour, they would get to know each other standing at the bus stop. Anyway, the 16 bus was abolished and, Annie said, despite these people who relied on it and though they could have organized, they weren't able to. She said she should make a movie about it. In the end, the 16 bus was reinstated under the Stagecoach line but only runs once an hour.
Anyway, we found a stop, but found we had just missed the bus by about 3 minutes. Oh well, walking was nice, and just at the end, when some new fences looked like they would block our way, we found a hole and got through. Hard to keep back the tide of human pedestrians.
Annie's house was nice as always and she was alone for the moment, the kids having gone out to the Thames with George and neighbors. Things perhaps a bit more cluttered and crowded than before. A bit chaotic when the kids arrive. Elsa was glowing a told a great story about swimming in the Thames and how Oliver (neighbor) had swum out to get an old bottle for her. Muddy, happy, and active. Ned (new!) took a bath in ketchup, the kids indulged in fish fingers and Asian pasta. Kadin had two bowls of pasta. As George later said, "Lots of veggies went down their little gullets." It was crowded and cluttered and happy.
Walking home along the Thames path on a beautiful evening should have been relaxing, but we forgot about the bicycles and staying to the left. So slightly nerve wracking, but only slightly. I was so pleased that Kadin was walking. What freedom!
Ceri had told me there was an LLL toddler meeting on Wednesday morning. Jayne is still a leader, Ceri is a leader in the evenings, and Kathryn is too, four kids and all! And Cathé Heron, the former leader from Ox, whose had another baby is now leading again. The best thing I got the whole time I was in Oxford was the LLL brochure that Jayne had made. It was so gratifying to see. I was especially touched that they still have a summer picnic gathering as well. I had so many nightmares with those picnics, the timing for me always seemed wrong (bad weather, kid sick, me sick, etc.). So it was nice to see that people enjoyed and appreciated them in the end! The group is thriving with meetings almost every week. Wow! It was so gratifying to have a piece of paper that showed something concrete from my years in Oxford. I realize how little I feel I accomplish at any time.
Rees wanted to visit Grandpont Nursery. So on Monday morning we did. I got all teary eyed when we walked in. It was such a nice place! I was so sorry Kadin didn't get to go there. Kadin still says he hated his preschool. Such a different environment! At Grandpont they never raise their voices and rarely correct the children. The children just seem to know how to behave. Very skilled teachers. The boys sat and played for a long time with mobilo and I reminisced about people who were there.
Monday I was to have lunch with Kerry. We planned to meet at Edamamé, the Japanese restaurant on Holywell. Could not ditch the kids as Mikael was down from Scotland to work with Greg. So Greg went to his meeting at Starbucks, and the kids and I set out across Christ Church meadow, through to Magpie Lane, into Radcliffe square and through the narrow passage to the Turf tavern and the Bath House Hotel that emerged on Holywell.
Edamamé was closed on Mondays, but there was a new restaurant in the bottom of St. Mary's that looked good: seasonal and organic. That was the first place I went when I first met Annie through Clare, when Rees was two. It had a nice atmosphere and kids could kind of blend into the background. We ate well, Kadin ate all of his organic chicken, rice, and salad. And though Kadin was sleepy and said he couldn't walk, I thought he'd be fine climbing, so we did one of the things I never did when we were in Oxford before: climbed St. Mary's tower. The kids loved it. Then climbed and climbed up all the stairs and then we walked around the top, getting a beautiful 360 degree view of the city. Kerry was dizzy from the heights, but soldiered on for us. I was so glad I never did that when I had babies! So glad I did it now that the kids were old enough to enjoy the adventur and be safe as well.
We walked back the same way through Christ Church meadows with Kerry. Got to show her around Oxford! We arranged to meet her later in Abingdon. We had a few moments to rest at the flat and meet up with Greg before getting the bus to Abingdon to meet in front of the Police Station.
Kerry's house was wonderful, as always. Kids were older. Turtle was thriving. Mr. Greenleaf (lizard) had recently died. Barrel with tiny frogs recently hatched from spawn. Cat and all the menagerie. The older kids were focused on their homework, Rees and Kadin gravitated towards the zip line. Perhaps too much for Kadin who decided to jump off early. After falling from a pretty good height, he cried and said the top of his foot hurt. Sounded like it could be a small fracture.
We pretty much carried him for the next week and much of the rest of the trip. Oh well, so much for our walking freedom! It really was a bummer. We decided not to return to the JR (hospital emergency room) for old time's sake.
Annie came over on Tuesday morning and since we couldn't get far with Kadin, we just went over to Christ Church and Greg went in to take a photo for his father. We sat out on the lawn and talked and talked. I missed her so much! Then it was time to catch a cab to Vanessa's for lunch. (Where did we catch a cab? I can't remember. Near the Head of the River? No, I think we walked up into town and caught one at the top of Cornmarket. Was Ned in a stroller for this? Kadin on Greg's shoulders?)
Arrived a bit lat at V's and had a lovely lunch out in the garden. It was warm, I think, and even started raining a bit. It was nice to see V in her home environment. We talked about science. It became clear that there is a lot of work to do on the core samples we collected together last April. Hmmm, maybe I need to come back for a week alone to do that work!
I think we stayed and stayed, and only had a brief time to stop in at the flat, pick up the videos, and wait for Chris to call and say that he would pick us up out front. We were off to Rosie's new house in Standlake for dinner.
Her house was small, but larger than before, with lots of amenities. Really pretty and organized and as always and the kids were thriving. Rees and Catriona put on a gymnastics show out back. Jacob (new!) looks just like his sister. R is doing well with the two kids. Angus, the rabbit, was also still in residence.
Really nice to share some time with them. Was glad I could mostly understand Chris. Rosie is full of ideas as always and very good to talk to about her thoughts and philosophies. She always seems to have strong, clear opinions.
Got home late, tired!
Wednesday was our last full day in the UK. I was beginning to feel like I could never leave! Greg went to meet Vanessa at the Geography department and he was to meet Chris McKenna at Brasenose that night. I took the kids to the LLL meeting at Allison Samuels’. I knew most the people there! Jayne, Kathryn, Rachel, et al. It was really neat to see. I wish I had chatted more with Cathé Heron, but was too self-absorbed talking to the people I used to know. Everyone has two kids now, except Katherine who has four (two new!).
One of the women at the meeting talked about her anxiety over her upcoming visit to her dad's in Romania. People really let her talk and offered her all sorts of good suggestions.
Kathryn had invited me home for lunch. It was nice and tidy and not just because it had just been cleaned. Like Ceri, she is very organized and her kids help out a lot.
Annie came over with Ned and Elsa and we walked down to the Adventure playground to meet Kelly et al. Boy was the playground as fun as ever. I saw Kelly and Kathryn and Annie, and Jason and Holly and their moms, and Tyler and his dad. Samuel too. It was great to see everyone and felt almost like we had never left! What a nice, magical playground that is!
Then Kathryn and Annie and I decided to go out to dinner, something they rarely do. We took all eight kids out to Tootsie's, the burger restaurant at the Castle. Katherine drove Kadin and her brood and Annie, Ned, Elsa, Rees, and I walked. Yes, we really went out to dinner in Oxford with eight kids and three adults. We felt such rebels. We promised not to spill any of our drinks. Yea, right. But we dealt okay, and it was early so not crowded and we were outside so not too disruptive. Kathryn's brother worked next door, so he ran a little interference for us as well. Annie had a rough time, though. Ned insisted on digging through the plant containers and throwing the pebbles on the plaza. Annie would reprimand him and he would laugh and run to another planter. Ugh! The evening culminated when he took off his poopy diaper in the middle of the plaza. Poor Annie!
Elsa wanted to come over to see the flat, but it was late and Annie had the option of a ride home with Kathryn, so they agreed to come over in the morning.
All we did in the morning was walk up to Sainsbury's and buy a picnic lunch that we ate in the St. Ebbes churchyard. Elsa took the day off school to see the flat! Annie said it was nice to break up what she called her "monotonous life."
When we got back to the flat, we had very little time to pack and clean before the taxi got there to take us to Glouchester Green for the bus to Terminal 4 where we would meet my parents for the flight to Oslo. The bus was our last and only chance to see the shark in the house from the Headington Road. We prepared Kadin as we approached. But alas, when we pointed, he looked at the end of our fingers and not the place where we were pointing. He missed it! Kadin!
Coming soon: post on airport and trip to Norway.
Oxford
I’m sitting at the Rose Hill Oval, having stupidly bought a day pass for myself and the kids, forgetting that there are two bus companies in Oxford and a pass is only good on one. Just missed the number 3 bus so have to wait 20 minutes (it's Sunday) for the next one. It's all coming back so slowly.
Kadin turns out to be a very excited traveler and had a great time with the moving sidewalks at the airport. He was determined to figure out everything himself.
We arrived Friday and felt pretty good. At least I am speaking for myself. It was HOT! Okay, only in the 70s with clear, clear blue sky, but the humidity made clothes feel warmer. And I just couldn't believe that people were choosing to sit in the sun. Just as I couldn't believe when we first moved to Colorado that people would actually close their curtains to the sun. We walked around the city centre and ended up at the new Castle development. It was nice and spacious and they had outdoor seating at the child-friendly Pizza Express. When I had just about finished with my salad, Kadin remembered that he had left his bag (a small thing he was given on the airplane) at Boswell's toy store. I volunteered to go back to get it. Traipsed across town to find they had closed shortly after we left and would open the next day at 9:05am. 9:05? Thought I would try again then.
Went back to the flat and with some encouragement and cajoling, all fell asleep shortly after the 9 o'clock chimes of Tom Tower. I slept intermittently until about 8:30 the next morning. There was a party next door. At one point, it was getting light out and I heard lots of people talking and moving about. I assumed it was morning and people were off to work. Then I remembered it was Saturday and when I checked the clock, it was only 3:30am. So, it would seem this was not the morning commotion, but the continuing commotion from the night before. By "real" morning, Boulder's night, we were all sound asleep. I did wake about 8:30 and walked up to Boswells, easily found the bag, and then noticed that the bank would be open in about half-an-hour so thought I'd walk around a bit until then. It was novel moving about Oxford by myself. I didn't have any small bodies to keep track of or specific errands to attend to. It felt so freeing. Nice and early in the morning, too, less crowded. When the bank opened, the guy at the bank was even nice and chatty and gave me lots of good, unhurried information. I then bought two lattés and headed back to the apartment.
By 11am everyone else was up and about and we got to the Trefethen's for lunch, though pretty late in the end---bought flowers, got a Taxi, etc.
It was so great to visit with them. Unfortunately we missed Jacob, but they have very full lives! We walked down to the park by Rainbow bridge and had a picnic by the Cherwell river. Luckily, Nick was also interested in watching the World Cup soccer game, so we saw the first half of the England game at their house before Ann drove us to our next appointment at Hinksey park to meet Rees' old friend Daniel. We went to the outdoor swimming pool in our old neighborhood, the nearby playground, and the little store next to our house. Despite wearing wet suits and the weather being about as warm and clear as it ever gets, the kids got very cold at the pool! Wow, they are now weather wimps! Rees, Daniel, and Kadin even got to ride the little yellow paddle boats that they were too young to go in when we lived here. England won the game "one nil" as expected and everyone was in a festive mood. The pool probably would have been more crowded had there not been a game.
We explored some more on the way home and, as we were all very tired, opted to eat in rather than risk a temper tantrum by one of the kids at the Head of the River. I went out and got some provisions, and we collapsed into bed again after a full day of exercise and sun. Veggie samosas very popular.
Greg said he remembered the feeling of almost constant embarrassment he had while we lived in England, the feeling that you are almost always doing something wrong. I remembered overwhelming feelings of being tied down. When I was out walking around by myself it just was so novel and something I almost never did when we lived here. And I don't remember ever thinking that people in Oxford dressed particularly interestingly or flatteringly, and maybe it was the unusually warm weather, but I was really struck by how appallingly people dressed. I don't know if people in Oxford are just more comfortable with their bodies and so less self-conscious or if they just don't realize how bad they look! Fit bodies that were well taken care of were few and far between. Tortured and tacky seemed the rule.
Sunday, Rees went to see William in the morning. I chatted with Mark in the garden. It was very nice and I started remembering some of the gentle pleasures of the English garden. One of Kadin's big memories, besides the shark in the house, is going to the Sainsbury's with Grandpa. So Kadin and I headed out and got on the number 3 bus to the Rose Hill Oval. I felt foreign and empowered to ask the driver directions to the walking bridge over the ring road. He knew all the back paths and we found it with no problem. We bought water, marmite (two large jars, at a cost of 4 pounds each), apricots, apples, and toilet paper. I even asked a thug on the way back if the bus stopped on Speedwell street. I liked being able to be foreign and anonymous.
We got back on the bus to Temple Cowley after lunch in the flat. Met up with Ceri, Rebecca, Alex, and Theo (new!) at the pool. Rees went in the men's changing room. When I got out of the women's changing room to the pool, Rebecca said Rees couldn't go in. Hmmm. Yes he could. Then I found out the story was that Rees and Kadin were not allowed to swim in their wet suits as it "restricted movement" and was "against policy." I argued with the guy for a while: it's a shallow pool, I'll be with them, wet suits are designed for swimming, we swam at Hinksey all the previous day, etc. Finally asked to speak to the manager. He appeared and basically said, "I have no problem with it." And we were able to swim after all. Sigh.
Visited with Ceri et al. at her house. House is the same and she is as orderly as ever, cutting up fruit for the kids, pouring them all juice, and they all wash hands, sit down to eat politely, and get up when they are finished. With a fourth kid on the way this is a good thing.
I called Annie and she was suffering a migrane. Wasn't sure she wanted me to come, but she did, so called Greg and said we'd meet him there. Then, since I had bought a day pass for Stagecoach, I thought I couldn't take a bus to Annie's so we decided to walk. Also to kill time to give Annie some more peace. Turns out the number 16 bus did in fact run and was now changed to Stagecoach, but runs only once an hour. Annie told me a bit of the story: It is the only bus to cross the Donnington Bridge and there are older people who have lived in the area all their lives who rely on the bus. And, since the bus ran only once every half-an-hour, they would get to know each other standing at the bus stop. Anyway, the 16 bus was abolished and, Annie said, despite these people who relied on it and though they could have organized, they weren't able to. She said she should make a movie about it. In the end, the 16 bus was reinstated under the Stagecoach line but only runs once an hour.
Anyway, we found a stop, but found we had just missed the bus by about 3 minutes. Oh well, walking was nice, and just at the end, when some new fences looked like they would block our way, we found a hole and got through. Hard to keep back the tide of human pedestrians.
Annie's house was nice as always and she was alone for the moment, the kids having gone out to the Thames with George and neighbors. Things perhaps a bit more cluttered and crowded than before. A bit chaotic when the kids arrive. Elsa was glowing a told a great story about swimming in the Thames and how Oliver (neighbor) had swum out to get an old bottle for her. Muddy, happy, and active. Ned (new!) took a bath in ketchup, the kids indulged in fish fingers and Asian pasta. Kadin had two bowls of pasta. As George later said, "Lots of veggies went down their little gullets." It was crowded and cluttered and happy.
Walking home along the Thames path on a beautiful evening should have been relaxing, but we forgot about the bicycles and staying to the left. So slightly nerve wracking, but only slightly. I was so pleased that Kadin was walking. What freedom!
Ceri had told me there was an LLL toddler meeting on Wednesday morning. Jayne is still a leader, Ceri is a leader in the evenings, and Kathryn is too, four kids and all! And Cathé Heron, the former leader from Ox, whose had another baby is now leading again. The best thing I got the whole time I was in Oxford was the LLL brochure that Jayne had made. It was so gratifying to see. I was especially touched that they still have a summer picnic gathering as well. I had so many nightmares with those picnics, the timing for me always seemed wrong (bad weather, kid sick, me sick, etc.). So it was nice to see that people enjoyed and appreciated them in the end! The group is thriving with meetings almost every week. Wow! It was so gratifying to have a piece of paper that showed something concrete from my years in Oxford. I realize how little I feel I accomplish at any time.
Rees wanted to visit Grandpont Nursery. So on Monday morning we did. I got all teary eyed when we walked in. It was such a nice place! I was so sorry Kadin didn't get to go there. Kadin still says he hated his preschool. Such a different environment! At Grandpont they never raise their voices and rarely correct the children. The children just seem to know how to behave. Very skilled teachers. The boys sat and played for a long time with mobilo and I reminisced about people who were there.
Monday I was to have lunch with Kerry. We planned to meet at Edamamé, the Japanese restaurant on Holywell. Could not ditch the kids as Mikael was down from Scotland to work with Greg. So Greg went to his meeting at Starbucks, and the kids and I set out across Christ Church meadow, through to Magpie Lane, into Radcliffe square and through the narrow passage to the Turf tavern and the Bath House Hotel that emerged on Holywell.
Edamamé was closed on Mondays, but there was a new restaurant in the bottom of St. Mary's that looked good: seasonal and organic. That was the first place I went when I first met Annie through Clare, when Rees was two. It had a nice atmosphere and kids could kind of blend into the background. We ate well, Kadin ate all of his organic chicken, rice, and salad. And though Kadin was sleepy and said he couldn't walk, I thought he'd be fine climbing, so we did one of the things I never did when we were in Oxford before: climbed St. Mary's tower. The kids loved it. Then climbed and climbed up all the stairs and then we walked around the top, getting a beautiful 360 degree view of the city. Kerry was dizzy from the heights, but soldiered on for us. I was so glad I never did that when I had babies! So glad I did it now that the kids were old enough to enjoy the adventur and be safe as well.
We walked back the same way through Christ Church meadows with Kerry. Got to show her around Oxford! We arranged to meet her later in Abingdon. We had a few moments to rest at the flat and meet up with Greg before getting the bus to Abingdon to meet in front of the Police Station.
Kerry's house was wonderful, as always. Kids were older. Turtle was thriving. Mr. Greenleaf (lizard) had recently died. Barrel with tiny frogs recently hatched from spawn. Cat and all the menagerie. The older kids were focused on their homework, Rees and Kadin gravitated towards the zip line. Perhaps too much for Kadin who decided to jump off early. After falling from a pretty good height, he cried and said the top of his foot hurt. Sounded like it could be a small fracture.
We pretty much carried him for the next week and much of the rest of the trip. Oh well, so much for our walking freedom! It really was a bummer. We decided not to return to the JR (hospital emergency room) for old time's sake.
Annie came over on Tuesday morning and since we couldn't get far with Kadin, we just went over to Christ Church and Greg went in to take a photo for his father. We sat out on the lawn and talked and talked. I missed her so much! Then it was time to catch a cab to Vanessa's for lunch. (Where did we catch a cab? I can't remember. Near the Head of the River? No, I think we walked up into town and caught one at the top of Cornmarket. Was Ned in a stroller for this? Kadin on Greg's shoulders?)
Arrived a bit lat at V's and had a lovely lunch out in the garden. It was warm, I think, and even started raining a bit. It was nice to see V in her home environment. We talked about science. It became clear that there is a lot of work to do on the core samples we collected together last April. Hmmm, maybe I need to come back for a week alone to do that work!
I think we stayed and stayed, and only had a brief time to stop in at the flat, pick up the videos, and wait for Chris to call and say that he would pick us up out front. We were off to Rosie's new house in Standlake for dinner.
Her house was small, but larger than before, with lots of amenities. Really pretty and organized and as always and the kids were thriving. Rees and Catriona put on a gymnastics show out back. Jacob (new!) looks just like his sister. R is doing well with the two kids. Angus, the rabbit, was also still in residence.
Really nice to share some time with them. Was glad I could mostly understand Chris. Rosie is full of ideas as always and very good to talk to about her thoughts and philosophies. She always seems to have strong, clear opinions.
Got home late, tired!
Wednesday was our last full day in the UK. I was beginning to feel like I could never leave! Greg went to meet Vanessa at the Geography department and he was to meet Chris McKenna at Brasenose that night. I took the kids to the LLL meeting at Allison Samuels’. I knew most the people there! Jayne, Kathryn, Rachel, et al. It was really neat to see. I wish I had chatted more with Cathé Heron, but was too self-absorbed talking to the people I used to know. Everyone has two kids now, except Katherine who has four (two new!).
One of the women at the meeting talked about her anxiety over her upcoming visit to her dad's in Romania. People really let her talk and offered her all sorts of good suggestions.
Kathryn had invited me home for lunch. It was nice and tidy and not just because it had just been cleaned. Like Ceri, she is very organized and her kids help out a lot.
Annie came over with Ned and Elsa and we walked down to the Adventure playground to meet Kelly et al. Boy was the playground as fun as ever. I saw Kelly and Kathryn and Annie, and Jason and Holly and their moms, and Tyler and his dad. Samuel too. It was great to see everyone and felt almost like we had never left! What a nice, magical playground that is!
Then Kathryn and Annie and I decided to go out to dinner, something they rarely do. We took all eight kids out to Tootsie's, the burger restaurant at the Castle. Katherine drove Kadin and her brood and Annie, Ned, Elsa, Rees, and I walked. Yes, we really went out to dinner in Oxford with eight kids and three adults. We felt such rebels. We promised not to spill any of our drinks. Yea, right. But we dealt okay, and it was early so not crowded and we were outside so not too disruptive. Kathryn's brother worked next door, so he ran a little interference for us as well. Annie had a rough time, though. Ned insisted on digging through the plant containers and throwing the pebbles on the plaza. Annie would reprimand him and he would laugh and run to another planter. Ugh! The evening culminated when he took off his poopy diaper in the middle of the plaza. Poor Annie!
Elsa wanted to come over to see the flat, but it was late and Annie had the option of a ride home with Kathryn, so they agreed to come over in the morning.
All we did in the morning was walk up to Sainsbury's and buy a picnic lunch that we ate in the St. Ebbes churchyard. Elsa took the day off school to see the flat! Annie said it was nice to break up what she called her "monotonous life."
When we got back to the flat, we had very little time to pack and clean before the taxi got there to take us to Glouchester Green for the bus to Terminal 4 where we would meet my parents for the flight to Oslo. The bus was our last and only chance to see the shark in the house from the Headington Road. We prepared Kadin as we approached. But alas, when we pointed, he looked at the end of our fingers and not the place where we were pointing. He missed it! Kadin!
Coming soon: post on airport and trip to Norway.
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
"Have a Great Day!"
When we were in Oxford, preparing to move to Boulder, Greg would receive emails from the department secretary in Colorado. She always signed her emails “Have a Great Day!” This just seemed so surreal in Oxford. No sane person would say that sort of thing to you there, especially not followed by an exclamation point. We joked that we would soon be saying to each other, “I’ve had it up to here. If one more person tells me to ‘Have a Great Day’ I’m going to…” What if you didn’t feel like having a great day? What if you weren’t?
It reminded me of when I lived in center-city Philadelphia and a friend who was living in Santa Cruz complained about the culture there: “If I see one more person doing tai-chi at the bus stop…” From where I sat that sounded pretty good. In Philadelphia it was, “if I see one more pimp beat up his prostitute…” or “if I see one more drunk, passed out or dead on the steam grates…” If tai-chi at the bus stop was the only thing you could complain about, life was pretty good. I looked forward to living in a place where I could be annoyed when told to “Have a Great Day!”
I don’t know what it is here, the sun, the shallowness, the beauty, the relative prosperity, but somehow “Have a Great Day!” just seems to fit. Doesn’t bother me at all. But then there is my neighbor. If I see him and say, “Hi, how’s it going?” he will respond with relish, “I’m LOVIN’ Life!” Good for him, I think, but it isn’t that sharing just a little too much information?
It reminded me of when I lived in center-city Philadelphia and a friend who was living in Santa Cruz complained about the culture there: “If I see one more person doing tai-chi at the bus stop…” From where I sat that sounded pretty good. In Philadelphia it was, “if I see one more pimp beat up his prostitute…” or “if I see one more drunk, passed out or dead on the steam grates…” If tai-chi at the bus stop was the only thing you could complain about, life was pretty good. I looked forward to living in a place where I could be annoyed when told to “Have a Great Day!”
I don’t know what it is here, the sun, the shallowness, the beauty, the relative prosperity, but somehow “Have a Great Day!” just seems to fit. Doesn’t bother me at all. But then there is my neighbor. If I see him and say, “Hi, how’s it going?” he will respond with relish, “I’m LOVIN’ Life!” Good for him, I think, but it isn’t that sharing just a little too much information?
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Norway, two (2!) years ago last June...
(Sequel to Oxford, only a year—or two—late...)
We met my parents at Heathrow and exchanged stories. They had flow 3,000 miles from Yerevan and had brought some food from the Armenian market. We had a few things from Sainsbury's, but the Sainsbury's apricots, though a deep golden color, did not compare in flavor to the Armenian ones. I sampled the sheep cheese and flat bread my mom had brought. The cheese had a very definite animal flavor to it, tasting very much like the way a barn smells. An acquired taste, I guess, so I only had a small bit.
Why my parents were interested in watching the Queen's 80th birthday celebration instead of the World Cup, I have no idea. The England/Trinidad game was going to be on just exactly during our flight.
Grandma and grandpa could only get their seat assignments at the airport, and since the plane was full, they were not sitting together. Great! I jumped at the chance to get my own seat and mom sat with Greg and the kids. I had a wonderfully uneventful flight. As we were standing, about to disembark, the flight attendant announced the score as “nil nil.” Oh boy, the game should be over by now. Then, just as the line out started moving, another announcement: England had won 2 nil. Everyone cheers.
Luggage took awhile since mom's suitcase did not arrive. The airport was small and pleasant and we enjoyed the little glass windows in the floor that had tiny dioramas and scenes behind them. The guy at the baggage claim saw no reason to be concerned and thought the bags were still coming. But they didn't, so mom went to the customer service desk to find that her bag was still in Heathrow. It would arrive the next day.
Oslo
We debated about the options to the hotel: bus v. train, and took the SAS bus in. Oslo struck me as a big, messy city. We had some difficulty getting the elevator to work with the security system. Tempers (especially mine) were short, the kid's bed was not made. Don't remember what we did for dinner, but probably picnicked in the room. I was tired.
Next morning we all gathered for breakfast, except mom whose stomach was not well. The sheep cheese. The rest of us set off for Akershus and the Viking Museum. At least that was the plan. The cousins were having a great time, but Kadin still couldn't walk. We finally told the rest of them to go ahead and Greg and Kadin and I could go at our own pace. We came across the Resistance Museum, and Greg and I enjoyed that. Kadin tolerates most things. Don't think we would have attempted that with Rees at all as it is a bit disturbing.
Decided to walk to another neighborhood that was billed as "hip" on the way to the Natural History museum and look for a grocery store for lunch on the way. No grocery, so we settled for a 7-11 type of deal of hotdogs and hot pockets. It was not a great lunch and cost us $40(!) We were now on Karl Johann's Gata, a walking street. We enjoyed the human statues there. The nearest bit of green was the lawn at the DomKirke so we stopped there to eat our sandwiches. There was some kind of protest about Afganistan going on, but we couldn't read the signs (in Norwegian) and just ate our lunch and Kadin used the outhouses. We walked a bit farther, towards the hip neighborhood and Natural History museum, but never made it. Just before getting back to the hotel, we found a grocery store. I bought more provisions, found a good calzone place, and that was dinner. Later we learned that our lunchtime picnic site protest was a hunger strike, of all things. How terrible of us!
The next morning we were off to the airport again and then Lillehammer with the tour group. Only Greg and the boys had just finished the 4th Harry Potter and had nothing else to read. We had about 20 minutes to find an English version of the 5th book before we got on the bus. Miraculously, we made it. We asked where there was a large bookstore and were directed to Karl Johann's Gata again. For the life of me, I couldn't understand the name of the bookstore. Finally, when we thought we were near it, we asked again. Then asked the name of the store. "Eeeaiirk" is what the reply sounded like, with about 5 syllables. Turns out, the store was called "Ark." They had the book. In English. Wow. Success.
We boarded the bus to the airport with tour guide Lisa Christine and driver Tor Arne. As Lisa said, no one in Norway has a middle name. Either they have one first name or two first names. I guess that because the selection of names is relatively small, you can be distinct with a distinct combination of names.
We got to know the airport very well this time. The plane was delayed, then the people joining our group took forever through customs, over 2 hours after they were scheduled to arrive. We snacked and amused ourselves as much as possible. We met Laurie and her two grandsons, Chris and Ian, who had flown in from Chicago that morning. They were very tired and jet lagged. I was glad that we were all over jet lag and able to wait in relative comfort. We finally all got on the bus after picking up two more grandmothers and their two granddaughters: Kay, Pauline, Sarah, and Natalie(?). Tor Arne made a wrong turn, and we detoured a bit before getting on the correct highway to Lillehammer. Lisa Christine and Tor Arne argued about which side of Lake Mjosa was the most beautiful: the "right" side or the "correct" side. Tor Arne was from Hamar on the East, "right" side, the seat of the bishop, and Lisa Christine was across from Hamar, on the West (left/correct) side. This was the bread basket of Norway with lots of farms.
Pretty soon Tor Arne said something cheerily in Norwegian to Lisa Christine, she then cheerily said into the mic that we would be pulling over shortly because of engine difficulty. Just like the delays at the airport and the wrong turn, it all sounded so friendly and innocuous in this benign environment. Help would soon be on the way.
It was unusually hot. There was no shade and we had pulled over onto the tiniest of pull-outs, not the greatest or safest place on the busy highway. And we waited for the imminent help.
There were eight kids on the bus who were understandably restless. Without the air conditioning, the bus was like an oven. We all had to get out. Everyone but dad did. He stayed on the bus, as is his way, dressed in full suit.
Most of the kids dealt okay. The four Knuth boys found games to play that were reasonably safe. Ian and Chris did their own teenage sort of thing (game boy). The girl I’m calling Natalie wrote in her journal. Sarah was the most put out. For her and the older boys it had been a very long day indeed. "Why can't we go?" "This isn't fair." "I don't like this," and so on. Eventually we ransacked Tor Arne's store of beverages: water, Coke, Fanta, and sparkling apple juice. That raised morale a bit. I regretted not filling my water bottle for what was to be a short two-hour bus ride.
Finally, a German tour bus stopped to help. We had the fan belt we needed and they helped install it. Finally, finally. We were there for about 4 hours in the end. All I can say is that the acronym for the Norwegian Automobile Association/Forbunding—NAF—was more than accurate. We got on our way, then stopped at a gas station for water and fuel. Kevin discovered that he could get a kroner for each empty bottle from Tor Arne's stash. Excitement.
Lillehammar
We arrived at the hotel in Lillehammar about 8pm for dinner. Luckily it was a buffet and luckily it was meant to be late. I was starving. I don't remember much of the evening except being exhausted and hungry and feeling like we had to take advantage in the morning of the pool and the miniature golf and the town and we only had a few hours. Whew! How to take advantage of all these luxuries?
Once again, we managed fine. We had a nice buffet breakfast. Julie and I walked down to Lillehammar center, though it was Sunday and everything was closed. We found a shop to buy some snacks and food for the trip to Brennabu (must be prepared, anything could happen…). Played a little mini golf on the disappointingly maintained course, and Greg went swimming with the boys. We met at Maihaugen, the open-air house museum, for lunch with my parents. Kadin was being a real pill and refused to walk anywhere. His foot did hurt and he was still limping, but what to do at the open-air museum? Fed up, I finally asked at the desk if they had a stroller or a wheelchair we could rent. They provided us with a wheelchair. Kadin happily rode in that.
There was a lot to see and not much time, it seemed to me. First we saw the inside exhibit of the history of Norway. It turned out to be really good. Starting with a cold ice cave it chronicled the ice ages up to the present. The kids enjoyed it and we learned a lot. Kadin related everything to the game Civilization (bronze age, iron age, etc.). I was glad we took the time to do that. Then we went outside to meet our tour guide. This was okay too and she explained things and let us into a house and told us about the customs and traditions. This was good to hear, but I felt we only got a taste. Soon it was time to get back on the bus. A new bus.
Something happened where Kadin went to the bathroom and took forever and we were really late and everyone on the bus was waiting for us and I felt rushed and guilty. We all rushed on the bus and drove to the ski jump. Lisa Christine told us we had only 20 minutes at the jump before we had to leave again for Brennabu on yet another bus. Rush, rush, rush, I was getting tired of this. I was determined to see some of the ski jump. I went down to the top of the lower jump with Rees and we walked very fast up again. Then I wanted to take the ski lift down. Finally we got word that Lisa Christine has miscalculated and we had an hour and 20 minutes. So we ended up at the bottom waiting and waiting.
Brennabu
Lisa Christine said her goodbyes and we were joined by the mother-in-law of our host at Brennabu, an outdoor education center. She would be our guide on the drive. She was very interesting. She had been the original owner of Brennabu, and now it was run by her son and his wife, Elizabeth. The drive was longish and I worried again that it might turn out to be much longer than planned. I always refilled my water bottle at this point. Bjorn was our driver from Valdres, the region we were going to. We stopped briefly to see some petroglyphs along a river of Alg (moose). Got to Brennabu and it was wonderful. Not a sort of deteriorating elegance like the Lillehammer hotel, but a charming, clean, Scandinavian feel. We were served dinner, a whole fish, I believe, but I managed to find something to eat. I was ready to settle in, only to discover that I had left my camera on the bus. Ughh. Bjorn, would we see you again?
We explored our new accommodations and the boys quickly became the “troll patrol,” hunting trolls and chasing them away. We found a “Speise stue,” the eating room; a “Piese stue,” a meeting room in the attic; the “Corner stue,” Corner room; and the “Torkerrom,” or drying room. Drying rooms are a very important part of a Norwegian house.
Turns out this was the perfect way for everyone to be together, have a Norwegian experience, and also have lots of fun. We didn’t have to decide what to do and we didn’t have to decide where to eat. It was beautiful and relaxing. A quick summary of activities:
Day One
We hiked to some boulders to do some rock climbing. Canoeing on the lake after lunch.
Day Two
Rock polishing and horseback riding.
Day Three
A drive in the bus with Bjorn (camera returned, yea!) to see fjords and glaciers and an awe-inspiring thousand-year-old stave church, all the while accompanied by the music of Peer Gynt.
Day Four
Archery and midsommar games.
Day Five
Open-air museum in nearby town.
In addition to the owners and their parents, I most vividly remember Ardun, our indefatigable leader who would entertain the children and “groundups” alike, and Anne, the cook who made the most wonderful berry jams. We were able to visit Ann’s house and her amazing weaving studio where in the winter she wove fabric into traditional patterns to be sewn into traditional dress. And we also got to tour her family’s traditional summer farm, where they took the livestock to new pasture up higher on the mountains.
I took a hike one afternoon with Greg and Julie, startled a European moose (Alg), and it was gone in a flash. And I remember the stunning drive back from the glacier, the miles and miles of mossy landscape well above treeline, both haunting and inviting.
We met my parents at Heathrow and exchanged stories. They had flow 3,000 miles from Yerevan and had brought some food from the Armenian market. We had a few things from Sainsbury's, but the Sainsbury's apricots, though a deep golden color, did not compare in flavor to the Armenian ones. I sampled the sheep cheese and flat bread my mom had brought. The cheese had a very definite animal flavor to it, tasting very much like the way a barn smells. An acquired taste, I guess, so I only had a small bit.
Why my parents were interested in watching the Queen's 80th birthday celebration instead of the World Cup, I have no idea. The England/Trinidad game was going to be on just exactly during our flight.
Grandma and grandpa could only get their seat assignments at the airport, and since the plane was full, they were not sitting together. Great! I jumped at the chance to get my own seat and mom sat with Greg and the kids. I had a wonderfully uneventful flight. As we were standing, about to disembark, the flight attendant announced the score as “nil nil.” Oh boy, the game should be over by now. Then, just as the line out started moving, another announcement: England had won 2 nil. Everyone cheers.
Luggage took awhile since mom's suitcase did not arrive. The airport was small and pleasant and we enjoyed the little glass windows in the floor that had tiny dioramas and scenes behind them. The guy at the baggage claim saw no reason to be concerned and thought the bags were still coming. But they didn't, so mom went to the customer service desk to find that her bag was still in Heathrow. It would arrive the next day.
Oslo
We debated about the options to the hotel: bus v. train, and took the SAS bus in. Oslo struck me as a big, messy city. We had some difficulty getting the elevator to work with the security system. Tempers (especially mine) were short, the kid's bed was not made. Don't remember what we did for dinner, but probably picnicked in the room. I was tired.
Next morning we all gathered for breakfast, except mom whose stomach was not well. The sheep cheese. The rest of us set off for Akershus and the Viking Museum. At least that was the plan. The cousins were having a great time, but Kadin still couldn't walk. We finally told the rest of them to go ahead and Greg and Kadin and I could go at our own pace. We came across the Resistance Museum, and Greg and I enjoyed that. Kadin tolerates most things. Don't think we would have attempted that with Rees at all as it is a bit disturbing.
Decided to walk to another neighborhood that was billed as "hip" on the way to the Natural History museum and look for a grocery store for lunch on the way. No grocery, so we settled for a 7-11 type of deal of hotdogs and hot pockets. It was not a great lunch and cost us $40(!) We were now on Karl Johann's Gata, a walking street. We enjoyed the human statues there. The nearest bit of green was the lawn at the DomKirke so we stopped there to eat our sandwiches. There was some kind of protest about Afganistan going on, but we couldn't read the signs (in Norwegian) and just ate our lunch and Kadin used the outhouses. We walked a bit farther, towards the hip neighborhood and Natural History museum, but never made it. Just before getting back to the hotel, we found a grocery store. I bought more provisions, found a good calzone place, and that was dinner. Later we learned that our lunchtime picnic site protest was a hunger strike, of all things. How terrible of us!
The next morning we were off to the airport again and then Lillehammer with the tour group. Only Greg and the boys had just finished the 4th Harry Potter and had nothing else to read. We had about 20 minutes to find an English version of the 5th book before we got on the bus. Miraculously, we made it. We asked where there was a large bookstore and were directed to Karl Johann's Gata again. For the life of me, I couldn't understand the name of the bookstore. Finally, when we thought we were near it, we asked again. Then asked the name of the store. "Eeeaiirk" is what the reply sounded like, with about 5 syllables. Turns out, the store was called "Ark." They had the book. In English. Wow. Success.
We boarded the bus to the airport with tour guide Lisa Christine and driver Tor Arne. As Lisa said, no one in Norway has a middle name. Either they have one first name or two first names. I guess that because the selection of names is relatively small, you can be distinct with a distinct combination of names.
We got to know the airport very well this time. The plane was delayed, then the people joining our group took forever through customs, over 2 hours after they were scheduled to arrive. We snacked and amused ourselves as much as possible. We met Laurie and her two grandsons, Chris and Ian, who had flown in from Chicago that morning. They were very tired and jet lagged. I was glad that we were all over jet lag and able to wait in relative comfort. We finally all got on the bus after picking up two more grandmothers and their two granddaughters: Kay, Pauline, Sarah, and Natalie(?). Tor Arne made a wrong turn, and we detoured a bit before getting on the correct highway to Lillehammer. Lisa Christine and Tor Arne argued about which side of Lake Mjosa was the most beautiful: the "right" side or the "correct" side. Tor Arne was from Hamar on the East, "right" side, the seat of the bishop, and Lisa Christine was across from Hamar, on the West (left/correct) side. This was the bread basket of Norway with lots of farms.
Pretty soon Tor Arne said something cheerily in Norwegian to Lisa Christine, she then cheerily said into the mic that we would be pulling over shortly because of engine difficulty. Just like the delays at the airport and the wrong turn, it all sounded so friendly and innocuous in this benign environment. Help would soon be on the way.
It was unusually hot. There was no shade and we had pulled over onto the tiniest of pull-outs, not the greatest or safest place on the busy highway. And we waited for the imminent help.
There were eight kids on the bus who were understandably restless. Without the air conditioning, the bus was like an oven. We all had to get out. Everyone but dad did. He stayed on the bus, as is his way, dressed in full suit.
Most of the kids dealt okay. The four Knuth boys found games to play that were reasonably safe. Ian and Chris did their own teenage sort of thing (game boy). The girl I’m calling Natalie wrote in her journal. Sarah was the most put out. For her and the older boys it had been a very long day indeed. "Why can't we go?" "This isn't fair." "I don't like this," and so on. Eventually we ransacked Tor Arne's store of beverages: water, Coke, Fanta, and sparkling apple juice. That raised morale a bit. I regretted not filling my water bottle for what was to be a short two-hour bus ride.
Finally, a German tour bus stopped to help. We had the fan belt we needed and they helped install it. Finally, finally. We were there for about 4 hours in the end. All I can say is that the acronym for the Norwegian Automobile Association/Forbunding—NAF—was more than accurate. We got on our way, then stopped at a gas station for water and fuel. Kevin discovered that he could get a kroner for each empty bottle from Tor Arne's stash. Excitement.
Lillehammar
We arrived at the hotel in Lillehammar about 8pm for dinner. Luckily it was a buffet and luckily it was meant to be late. I was starving. I don't remember much of the evening except being exhausted and hungry and feeling like we had to take advantage in the morning of the pool and the miniature golf and the town and we only had a few hours. Whew! How to take advantage of all these luxuries?
Once again, we managed fine. We had a nice buffet breakfast. Julie and I walked down to Lillehammar center, though it was Sunday and everything was closed. We found a shop to buy some snacks and food for the trip to Brennabu (must be prepared, anything could happen…). Played a little mini golf on the disappointingly maintained course, and Greg went swimming with the boys. We met at Maihaugen, the open-air house museum, for lunch with my parents. Kadin was being a real pill and refused to walk anywhere. His foot did hurt and he was still limping, but what to do at the open-air museum? Fed up, I finally asked at the desk if they had a stroller or a wheelchair we could rent. They provided us with a wheelchair. Kadin happily rode in that.
There was a lot to see and not much time, it seemed to me. First we saw the inside exhibit of the history of Norway. It turned out to be really good. Starting with a cold ice cave it chronicled the ice ages up to the present. The kids enjoyed it and we learned a lot. Kadin related everything to the game Civilization (bronze age, iron age, etc.). I was glad we took the time to do that. Then we went outside to meet our tour guide. This was okay too and she explained things and let us into a house and told us about the customs and traditions. This was good to hear, but I felt we only got a taste. Soon it was time to get back on the bus. A new bus.
Something happened where Kadin went to the bathroom and took forever and we were really late and everyone on the bus was waiting for us and I felt rushed and guilty. We all rushed on the bus and drove to the ski jump. Lisa Christine told us we had only 20 minutes at the jump before we had to leave again for Brennabu on yet another bus. Rush, rush, rush, I was getting tired of this. I was determined to see some of the ski jump. I went down to the top of the lower jump with Rees and we walked very fast up again. Then I wanted to take the ski lift down. Finally we got word that Lisa Christine has miscalculated and we had an hour and 20 minutes. So we ended up at the bottom waiting and waiting.
Brennabu
Lisa Christine said her goodbyes and we were joined by the mother-in-law of our host at Brennabu, an outdoor education center. She would be our guide on the drive. She was very interesting. She had been the original owner of Brennabu, and now it was run by her son and his wife, Elizabeth. The drive was longish and I worried again that it might turn out to be much longer than planned. I always refilled my water bottle at this point. Bjorn was our driver from Valdres, the region we were going to. We stopped briefly to see some petroglyphs along a river of Alg (moose). Got to Brennabu and it was wonderful. Not a sort of deteriorating elegance like the Lillehammer hotel, but a charming, clean, Scandinavian feel. We were served dinner, a whole fish, I believe, but I managed to find something to eat. I was ready to settle in, only to discover that I had left my camera on the bus. Ughh. Bjorn, would we see you again?
We explored our new accommodations and the boys quickly became the “troll patrol,” hunting trolls and chasing them away. We found a “Speise stue,” the eating room; a “Piese stue,” a meeting room in the attic; the “Corner stue,” Corner room; and the “Torkerrom,” or drying room. Drying rooms are a very important part of a Norwegian house.
Turns out this was the perfect way for everyone to be together, have a Norwegian experience, and also have lots of fun. We didn’t have to decide what to do and we didn’t have to decide where to eat. It was beautiful and relaxing. A quick summary of activities:
Day One
We hiked to some boulders to do some rock climbing. Canoeing on the lake after lunch.
Day Two
Rock polishing and horseback riding.
Day Three
A drive in the bus with Bjorn (camera returned, yea!) to see fjords and glaciers and an awe-inspiring thousand-year-old stave church, all the while accompanied by the music of Peer Gynt.
Day Four
Archery and midsommar games.
Day Five
Open-air museum in nearby town.
In addition to the owners and their parents, I most vividly remember Ardun, our indefatigable leader who would entertain the children and “groundups” alike, and Anne, the cook who made the most wonderful berry jams. We were able to visit Ann’s house and her amazing weaving studio where in the winter she wove fabric into traditional patterns to be sewn into traditional dress. And we also got to tour her family’s traditional summer farm, where they took the livestock to new pasture up higher on the mountains.
I took a hike one afternoon with Greg and Julie, startled a European moose (Alg), and it was gone in a flash. And I remember the stunning drive back from the glacier, the miles and miles of mossy landscape well above treeline, both haunting and inviting.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Field work
Just spent two weeks in a major change of pace: was out doing tree-ring dating for a project of Greg's. Greg, who stayed behind and had to teach, held up the home front remarkably well, and, thanks to friends and play dates, the kids seem none the worse for wear.
I went out to Southeastern Colorado with Vanessa, a friend and dendrochronologist (tree ring dating expert) from Oxford. Traveling with Vanessa was easy. Logistics were a breeze with someone who is well able to think ahead and take care of themselves, not to mention has a interesting life and keen sense of people. I learned many things, but primary among them, the following:
I should avoid poison ivy at all costs. The itches are bad enough, but then there is the threat of infection, which reared its ugly head until I fought it off. And I have been plagued with series of freak-out skin rashes ever since. My skin just doesn’t get it that this plant is not a threat. It gets fooled every time.
Tecnu is my friend. Greg says he thought it was developed by the army to decontaminate people who had been irradiated. And yes, it is some kind of potent, noxious solvent. But it offered hope and respite when things were looking grim on the poison ivy front.
I like being out doors. We saw no other people in the field, but lots of wildlife. I was excited to spend the days in these dry, grassy arroyos. The occasional break with a trip to the store was also nice. I liked the balance of peace and quiet and activity. Who knew Safeway could be so exciting? Who knew how enchanting an empty plain could be?
I like taking care of only myself. Wow, hard to imagine doing that for a whole week. A non issue, really. Nothing more to say about that.
I like using my brain. I realized how bored out of my mind I am by the daily grind. No wonder the thought of cleaning the kitchen is usually accompanied by an overwhelming urge to lie on the sofa. I might be lazy, but I'm also bored. Much more fun to puzzle out a project, think about how the world works, and, with Vanessa’s help and guidance, find ways to coax the trees' life history out of them. What have they seen? What they've been through? What dramatic events have taken place in this seemingly placid place? "Reading" the landscape in this way with all your senses is a most enjoyable kind of puzzle.
The army is hugely complex and more interesting and diverse than I knew. Many good, public-works type projects come under the army umbrella of funding that have nothing to do with combat. When told by someone that they suspected I did not like the army, I should have replied that I didn’t know very much about the army. Instead, I said, “You think that because I am from Boulder?” Guess it is not hard to put two and two together.
While it is polite to accept an MRE (meal ready to eat) and interesting to see the way they are heated, they cannot compare to the excellent sandwiches we had for lunch.
I learned that people can be charming as acquaintances, but potentially maddening if you are related to them. It's the same, I think, with countries. They can be charming when you are a visitor or living there as a foreigner. But if it is your county, it can be terribly embarrassing.
I miss the days when Greg and I would do field work together. I now have a new goal of figuring out a way to make that work. If not now, in the near future. Maybe we'll just have to take it in small doses for a while, until the kids get older. I think they could handle being out in the field with us for a day or two at a time.
I went out to Southeastern Colorado with Vanessa, a friend and dendrochronologist (tree ring dating expert) from Oxford. Traveling with Vanessa was easy. Logistics were a breeze with someone who is well able to think ahead and take care of themselves, not to mention has a interesting life and keen sense of people. I learned many things, but primary among them, the following:
I should avoid poison ivy at all costs. The itches are bad enough, but then there is the threat of infection, which reared its ugly head until I fought it off. And I have been plagued with series of freak-out skin rashes ever since. My skin just doesn’t get it that this plant is not a threat. It gets fooled every time.
Tecnu is my friend. Greg says he thought it was developed by the army to decontaminate people who had been irradiated. And yes, it is some kind of potent, noxious solvent. But it offered hope and respite when things were looking grim on the poison ivy front.
I like being out doors. We saw no other people in the field, but lots of wildlife. I was excited to spend the days in these dry, grassy arroyos. The occasional break with a trip to the store was also nice. I liked the balance of peace and quiet and activity. Who knew Safeway could be so exciting? Who knew how enchanting an empty plain could be?
I like taking care of only myself. Wow, hard to imagine doing that for a whole week. A non issue, really. Nothing more to say about that.
I like using my brain. I realized how bored out of my mind I am by the daily grind. No wonder the thought of cleaning the kitchen is usually accompanied by an overwhelming urge to lie on the sofa. I might be lazy, but I'm also bored. Much more fun to puzzle out a project, think about how the world works, and, with Vanessa’s help and guidance, find ways to coax the trees' life history out of them. What have they seen? What they've been through? What dramatic events have taken place in this seemingly placid place? "Reading" the landscape in this way with all your senses is a most enjoyable kind of puzzle.
The army is hugely complex and more interesting and diverse than I knew. Many good, public-works type projects come under the army umbrella of funding that have nothing to do with combat. When told by someone that they suspected I did not like the army, I should have replied that I didn’t know very much about the army. Instead, I said, “You think that because I am from Boulder?” Guess it is not hard to put two and two together.
While it is polite to accept an MRE (meal ready to eat) and interesting to see the way they are heated, they cannot compare to the excellent sandwiches we had for lunch.
I learned that people can be charming as acquaintances, but potentially maddening if you are related to them. It's the same, I think, with countries. They can be charming when you are a visitor or living there as a foreigner. But if it is your county, it can be terribly embarrassing.
I miss the days when Greg and I would do field work together. I now have a new goal of figuring out a way to make that work. If not now, in the near future. Maybe we'll just have to take it in small doses for a while, until the kids get older. I think they could handle being out in the field with us for a day or two at a time.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Duct tape
We've had a lot going on these days. The house has a roof and walls so we've moved back into the construction site. The raccoons have moved out; the Ninjas have moved in. Halloween and daylight savings made it all that much more disorienting. As usual, I was talked into making costumes for the kids. Not that we don't already have a zillion dress-up clothes, but they wanted something new, of course. This year it was Ninja costumes. The ones for sale in the store were okay, but I thought they could just dress in black and we could fashion some shoulder armor for them. Only problem was, my sewing machine was in storage. Undaunted, I bought three different kinds of metallic fabric: silver tablecloth material, sliver fabric, and shiny blue metallic fabric. I started with the tablecloth material that didn’t really need hemming and fashioned the shoulder armor using duct tape. It worked okay, so I planned to continue with the fabric. I thought I could go to a friend's house to borrow a sewing machine, but then thought that by the time I arranged to go over to someone's house, got there, chatted with them, etc., it would end up taking much longer than needed, so I set out hand sewing it. That was fun, but slow. Then I got the brilliant idea that there might be a sewing machine set up and ready to go at Kadin's preschool. Since I was there twice a day anyway, it wouldn’t take so much arranging. I asked the secretary if there was a machine, and she said no but that she could bring me hers by the time I came to pick Kadin up. That worked great. So here are the Ninja costumes, the one on the left is duct taped and the one on the right (reversible, silver or blue) is sewn with Amy’s machine.Kadin’s preschool has an evening Halloween party every year on the weekend before Halloween. For the past two years, I have opted to go as "my true nature.” Last year I was an ogre. That kind of freaked the kids out. This year, the kids wanted me to be a witch. It wasn't hard, I tell you, came pretty easily. (Last year, Greg went as an Oxford don, this year, just an overwhelmed dad.) So I was happily green and crotchety the day before moving and the Friday before Halloween.
Then on Monday, Rees' class had their party and Halloween parade during the school day. I was stunned to see that Rees' teacher was an angel. Wow, and it truly suited her. She is lovely. At our parent-teacher conference she said, "You know how Rees seems always to be fidgiting or moving about? He needs that. I think that is good for him." God bless her! She does not come across as someone who is especially bright or intense, but she has this amazing ability to just focus on what is important and say the right thing. I have never seen her get flustered, she just takes things in stride. Rees clearly wants to please her. It never would have occurred to me to be an angel for Halloween, but good for her! I'll have to seriously consider that for next year, imagine, emphasizing the positive!
Saturday, June 25, 2005
Dinosaur
We're off to Dinosaur National Monument for a few day's family vacation. We are going with nephew, Julian (and his family), the kid who first led us all into researching dinosaurs. Now Rees and Kadin are big dinosaur fans. We have a great collection of dinosaur magazines some dear friends in Oxford got for Rees at a boot sale. There are over 100 different issues and both boys can't get enough of them. They are pitched in just the right way. We read at least one a day. Now I know, among many other interesting facts, that the Stegaseras (not to be confused with the Stegasaurus) looks like a Pachycephalasaurus and so on. We are hoping to find some gastroliths in Utah.
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