Eurobeer!!!

Just a quick entry before I head off to bed... I'm at Adam's flat in Edinburgh, and we're leaving for Italy tomorrow morning, meeting Johanna along the way. There, we'll meet up with our Aunt and Uncle and cousins, who live in Trento. Plans include trips to Milan, Venice, and the Dolomites, lots of great food, and molto vino rosso. Also, I'm hoping some of my Italian might come back, as it hasn't been doing much since the spring of 2005.

Saturday night, I had my first ceilidh, which was a great time. The Stramash was my favourite dance, which basically involved bouncing around the floor with your partner and crashing into lots of poeple, on the way to meeting up with other partners. My calves are still sore. One of the most fun things about going out and about in Scotland has been taking a look at what people drink. At the ceilidh, for example, I noticed, amid the various wines and McEwans and Smirnoff Ice, someone had pulled out several ice cold Budweisers (glass bottles, no less). I almost fell over, and had to restrain myself from asking him if he knew what American beer had in common with having sex in a canoe. (It's fucking close to water... I'm afraid I can't take credit for that one- it's from Monty Python.) Anyway, I figured I'd damaged my reputation enough by asking them if they drank Irish Car Bombs ("Oh, I suppose we're all the same to you?" was the response). I also have noticed both at the ceilidh and here in Edinburgh that Staropramen, a Czech beer which we drank in Sweden, is fairly popular and can be found on tap at local establishments. Another American classic, which I observed at Tesco was Miller High Life. Adam had never head of PBR... the fact that he had also never heard of hipsters can only mean that PBR-drinking really is somehow connected with eyeliner and absurd looking boys in tight shirts.

Well, I don't suppose they drink beer in Italy, but I'm looking forward to trying some of the local wines. In other news, I'm hoping I won't come back with a broken ankle... you can't go to the fashion capital of the world and leave your stilettos at home.

My run-in with cows... and the sun comes out!

If you've never stood near the fence of a pasture with twenty cows staring at you, then you can't imagine just how intimidating it is. Yesterday we drove to Cotterton, where Daddy and Amber were meeting someone (a particularly cheeky Scotsman) about installing a Franklin Stove in the living room. While they worked out the details, I decided to take a walk down the road (much like the bear who went over the mountain) to see what I could see. Cotterton Cottage is situated on a dirt road that goes between fields containing alternately cows and sheep... and one, with both (I don't know whether they got along, but the cows seemed to be playing shepherd, standing in the middle of the flock, and looking very tall). As it had done nothing but rain for the past week, I had to walk in the middle of the grassy area to preserve my shoes. As the road progressed (deteriorated), the possibility of stepping in some sort of animal droppings increased, so I eventually turned back. Anyway, as I walked back through the drier areas of the dirt road, I saw a herd of cows ambling towards me (we were separated by a fairly shoddy looking fence... no real obstacle for the determined bovine). They stopped near the fence and stared. And stared. That kind of eye contact from twenty-odd creatures ten times my weight brought to mind various images of my mangled body lying in the mud, having been thoroughly trampled by this who-knows-how-easily spooked herd. ("I've got so much to live for!" thought I, as I walked quickly away.) Suddenly, they all took off running in the other direction, only to reassemble further down the fence... where I was still walking. They did this a few more times, and by the time I got back to the house, I was half-relieved to be there, and half wondering, seriously? I'm afraid of cows? (I think we'll leave that one open for debate, as I really do like them a lot when they're not all staring and stampeding.)

This morning, the first thing I noticed upon waking up was sunshine peeking around my curtains. Sure enough, after almost a week of completely dismal weather, it was blessedly "partly cloudy." I'd completely forgotten how gorgeous the view is, when the sun brings out all the various shades of green and blue and yellow and purple. I couldn't take my eyes off it, for fear the clouds might change their minds, and cause the sun to disappear for another month. After breakfast, I headed out on Amber's bicycle for an adventure of an hour or so, which was absolutely wonderful. The power of Vitamin D is not to be underestimated. (Nor are the benefits of huffing and puffing your way up a hill that seems like a mile long.) When I came back, I showered and had probably the best practice session I've had in about a month. Probably a combination of the weather, the cardio (which I firmly believe is good for singing), and the past few days spent on getting the kinks out of my voice. I noticed a few of the highland cows looking up at my open window, as if they meant to be my audience. Well, I'll take what I can get. Anyway, as great as singing felt today, I'm still not particularly interested in a human audience yet. I began work on "Zeffiretti lusinghieri" from Idomeneo, as I'm fairly interested in Mozart, these days. We'll see. But as I know my party of readers is probably not so interested in a treatise on my practice sessions, I'll let this entry go for now. Suffice it to say that given a sunny day, a great bike ride and a fulfilling practice session, I feel human again.

Driving in Scotland

Even though Scotland is not my "final destination," it's a stop I'm making for a good month, so I thought I might begin my blog here. To those who might not be aware (and I can't think of anyone who would read this who isn't, but it's a concession I'll make to cyberspace), I'm an American who has decided to run off and live in Germany for the foreseeable future. I don't want to go into my various plans right now, but I'm a classical singer, and the end goal is a career doing that. So there's your introduction.

My dad and Amber took me out driving yesterday- from the house they're renting near Aberdeen to the one near Keith, into which they will be moving in a few months. On the narrow, winding roads it was mildly terrifying, but I did pretty well on the roundabouts. It's difficult to judge the width of the car when you're disoriented. Also, the rear view mirror feels like it's in the wrong place. It was mostly country back-road and highway driving, though, so the drivers were apparently "not as aggressive as the ones in Aberdeen," where my dad wants to take me next, as he excitedly informed me this morning. If you pray, then pray for me.

As I am now unpacked, and pretty-much un-jetlagged, I'm planning on using this morning to start on some new music. Unfortunately, I rather stupidly packed all of the sheet music I wanted to learn in the trunks which are being shipped by sea, so I'll have to use what I have in the four anthologies I brought in my suitcase. I haven't seriously practiced in about a month (opera workshop performances, papers and finals and graduation and moving and saying goodbyes and God Bless Americas have given me just about no time whatsoever for the actual reason I'm moving), so I'm sure I'll have some cobwebs to brush away.

As a matter of interest, the sun has finally shown its face, which is wonderful, because I really haven't seen it yet in Aberdeen (I arrived on Saturday). Hopefully the highland cows in the pasture next to the house are enjoying it. By the way, I think I've described highland cows to some of you, who were fairly incredulous, so here is a picture:
Auf Wiedersehen.