We are finally settling in and getting used to the British way of life and their.....um....directness? And we are half done so we are so excited that it is downhill from here. But of course, as we are getting closer to the end we find ourselves becoming more and more attached to the lovely people all around us. Our students, which we have become quite close with through our student/teacher pub nights, have become dear to our hearts and we are sad at the idea of leaving them. It feels so good to be around people from all over the world. Just speaking with them, learning from them, is such a blessing. We have a couple from Venezuela that we particularly love, and they have told us we must come visit them. I of course am not adverse to the idea and hope to one day take them up on their offer!
Today is our first beautiful satruday, and we are going to shop at some thrift stores and walk in the Royal Gardens just to feel the sun hit our shoulders! Who knew one could feel so down and isolated without seeing the sun? We do have loads of work to do, but we have decided we refuse to do any work while its light out, so after 4pm our fun will be over. We are meeting a friend of Christine's, who lives in Edinburgh, tomorrow. We are very much looking forward to seeing him (meeting him in my case). We also hope to see some of our students this weekend for maybe a coffee or some traditional spanish comida!
O.K., one short anecodote that I can't pass up:
We were using the internet at a pub when the ManU v. Chelsea football match came on. So, of course, we watched and met some nice guys who we became friends with. Earlier in the day I had boldly decided to wear a plaid top that, though I was hesitant, seemed like it was appropriate upon my glance in the mirror. At the pub and older and belligerent older man came up DEMANDING to know what my tartan clan was. As you can imagine, I looked at him with wide, confused eyes filled with panic. The British guys did not know what to do either. Christine told the man we were American but he was insistant upon my answering his question. After hounding me and hovering dangerously close to my face for several minutes, the waitress finally came over and told him to leave us alone. I was mortified as he left, and will from now on NEVER dare to wear plaid in Scotland. Thank goodness I have a "good strong Scottish last name" to carry me, because apparantly my dressing habits are highly offensive! What can I say? Only in Scotland!
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