So, the epilogue to the punting and fireworks expedition was that Nick and I got engaged afterwards! We're probably getting married in about a year or so, in the US. Stay tuned for deets!
Additionally, I graduated today! Got rained on, and got fed fish, and held onto the praelector's fingers -- adventures.
Eventually I will post photos of the engagement ring, and all sorts of graduation photos, and finish the spring break stories -- but that all has to wait until next week after I fly back to the US and get my computer set up again. I get back on Monday afternoon. Stay tuned!
Showing posts with label English Culture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label English Culture. Show all posts
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Punting and Fireworks
Every year, during "May Week," most of the Cambridge colleges hold their college balls, and two of the most dramatic ones are held at Trinity and St. John's. Trinity's was on Monday, St. John's's (how do I punctuate that?) was last night. A big part of those two are the fireworks displays they both have, so last night, me, some other people from my house and Darwin, and Nick all joined the crowds that punted along the river to get a good view of St. John's's fireworks, which go off above the river.
We headed out around 9:15, when it was still light out.
Next, we punted along the river and past Queens' College, which was also having its ball that night and was already lit up.
We also punted past the remains of Trinity's ball from the night before.
Once we got to the good watching-spot (near Trinity), it got extremely crowded.
Unfortunately, I wasn't able to get great night shots from the rocking punt, but I took a picture of the St. John's lights, anyways.
We had about an hour to wait before the fireworks actually started at quarter of 11.
Eventually they got going, although my camera seems to no longer recognize it's "fireworks mode," which is kind of a bummer -- so the photos ended up kind of blurry.
After the fireworks, there was a mass exodus downriver.
On the way back, we punted past Queens' again and saw a bit more of their ball, which apparently had a Hollywood theme.
From there, we headed back to Darwin and disembarked. Good adventures! And that's the end of the story, for now.
We headed out around 9:15, when it was still light out.
Next, we punted along the river and past Queens' College, which was also having its ball that night and was already lit up.
We also punted past the remains of Trinity's ball from the night before.
Once we got to the good watching-spot (near Trinity), it got extremely crowded.
Unfortunately, I wasn't able to get great night shots from the rocking punt, but I took a picture of the St. John's lights, anyways.
We had about an hour to wait before the fireworks actually started at quarter of 11.
Eventually they got going, although my camera seems to no longer recognize it's "fireworks mode," which is kind of a bummer -- so the photos ended up kind of blurry.
After the fireworks, there was a mass exodus downriver.
On the way back, we punted past Queens' again and saw a bit more of their ball, which apparently had a Hollywood theme.
From there, we headed back to Darwin and disembarked. Good adventures! And that's the end of the story, for now.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Burning Down the House
So Nick and I had a little mishap cooking dinner tonight. The first thing to know in the description of our incident is what our kitchen setup is like. A common stove set-up in England consists of a small oven below a small "grill" -- which seems to be a little chamber with heat coils across the top of it. This is what we've got in our kitchen. Now, our stove is a bit quirky, because the oven takes a hugely long time to pre-heat. It takes it about 30-45 minutes to get up to about 250F, and never really gets any hotter than that. The grill seems to get up to normal temperature, though.
Prior to this term, the way we cooked things in the grill (which is how we had to cook things if we didn't want them to take at least an hour, since we also don't have a microwave) involved a baking tray. Now, the grill has two little ridges on each side that could theoretically hold a baking tray up close to the heating coils at the top so that you could cook them. But we didn't have an appropriately sized baking tray. Our tray was too wide to fit if you held it one way, and too narrow to sit on the ridges if you held it the other. So you had to slide it in kitty-corner with two opposite corners supporting all the weight. Occasionally it would come crashing down. I can draw diagrams if necessary for this point.
But over the Easter vacation, we got a real grill tray. The features of the grill tray are as follows. There's a physical tray, similar to the baking tray but maybe slightly deeper. Then there is a wire frill frame that sits on top of it that you actually put food on. There is a handle attached to the tray (although the handle gets hot when you're actually using it and you still need potholders). There is a layer of tinfoil between the tray and the wire platform that sits on top of it that people typically keep reusing until it gets really gross (your food touches the wire platform, not the tinfoil). And best of all, the physical tray is the right size, so you can just plop it down on the ridges inside the grill rather than fight to balance it.
So, tonight, Nick and I made fajitas for dinner, and needed to heat up the tortilla wraps. Because the food was almost ready and the oven was off, we decided to put them in the bottom of the grill (not on the tray, just on a plate sitting on the bottom of the grill) to warm them up. We plunk them in and wait. A few minutes later, Nick checks on them. The top ones are warm; the bottom ones are cold. (I think this is a function of having the heating coils at the top of the grill.) So Nick takes the stack, flips it over, sticks it back in the bottom of the grill, waits a few more minutes, and opens it back up.
And the grill is full of fire! The grill tray is in the grill -- and it's clearly on fire. (I don't exactly have any photos of this.) The kitchen has a door to the outside, so Nick put on a potholder, grabbed the grill tray by the handle, yanked it out of the grill, went out the door and down the half-flight of steps to the yard, and flipped it over on the grass to smother the flames. It worked! Apparently we didn't even kill the grass (although by the time Nick went back outside to retrieve the tray it was dark, so I'm not convinced he could really see how lively the grass was).
It seems that what had happened was Nick hadn't realized the grill tray was sitting on the ridges in the grill when he warmed up the fajitas (I didn't realize it mattered). Now, there are two ridges on the side, both of which are up pretty close to the heating coils, and when we cook things on the grill, we all slot the tray between the two ridges (so that it's sitting on the bottom one). If you put the tray on top of the top ridge to cook, I think your food would probably be actually touching the coils unless it was really flat. But if you're just sticking the tray back in the oven after cooking on it, you probably just plop it in any old way. And we typically leave the grill tray in the grill even when we're not using it because there's no place else in the kitchen for it -- and plus, normally you use it when you use the grill.
So it appears that some fat or something from somebody's meal had dripped down onto the tinfoil, which was an inch closer to the electric coils than normal -- which made it catch fire. Exciting!
After dinner, Nick and I took the tray back in and replaced the tinfoil. Good as new! The fajitas were good, and the wraps ended up being warmed just right.
Prior to this term, the way we cooked things in the grill (which is how we had to cook things if we didn't want them to take at least an hour, since we also don't have a microwave) involved a baking tray. Now, the grill has two little ridges on each side that could theoretically hold a baking tray up close to the heating coils at the top so that you could cook them. But we didn't have an appropriately sized baking tray. Our tray was too wide to fit if you held it one way, and too narrow to sit on the ridges if you held it the other. So you had to slide it in kitty-corner with two opposite corners supporting all the weight. Occasionally it would come crashing down. I can draw diagrams if necessary for this point.
But over the Easter vacation, we got a real grill tray. The features of the grill tray are as follows. There's a physical tray, similar to the baking tray but maybe slightly deeper. Then there is a wire frill frame that sits on top of it that you actually put food on. There is a handle attached to the tray (although the handle gets hot when you're actually using it and you still need potholders). There is a layer of tinfoil between the tray and the wire platform that sits on top of it that people typically keep reusing until it gets really gross (your food touches the wire platform, not the tinfoil). And best of all, the physical tray is the right size, so you can just plop it down on the ridges inside the grill rather than fight to balance it.
So, tonight, Nick and I made fajitas for dinner, and needed to heat up the tortilla wraps. Because the food was almost ready and the oven was off, we decided to put them in the bottom of the grill (not on the tray, just on a plate sitting on the bottom of the grill) to warm them up. We plunk them in and wait. A few minutes later, Nick checks on them. The top ones are warm; the bottom ones are cold. (I think this is a function of having the heating coils at the top of the grill.) So Nick takes the stack, flips it over, sticks it back in the bottom of the grill, waits a few more minutes, and opens it back up.
And the grill is full of fire! The grill tray is in the grill -- and it's clearly on fire. (I don't exactly have any photos of this.) The kitchen has a door to the outside, so Nick put on a potholder, grabbed the grill tray by the handle, yanked it out of the grill, went out the door and down the half-flight of steps to the yard, and flipped it over on the grass to smother the flames. It worked! Apparently we didn't even kill the grass (although by the time Nick went back outside to retrieve the tray it was dark, so I'm not convinced he could really see how lively the grass was).
It seems that what had happened was Nick hadn't realized the grill tray was sitting on the ridges in the grill when he warmed up the fajitas (I didn't realize it mattered). Now, there are two ridges on the side, both of which are up pretty close to the heating coils, and when we cook things on the grill, we all slot the tray between the two ridges (so that it's sitting on the bottom one). If you put the tray on top of the top ridge to cook, I think your food would probably be actually touching the coils unless it was really flat. But if you're just sticking the tray back in the oven after cooking on it, you probably just plop it in any old way. And we typically leave the grill tray in the grill even when we're not using it because there's no place else in the kitchen for it -- and plus, normally you use it when you use the grill.
So it appears that some fat or something from somebody's meal had dripped down onto the tinfoil, which was an inch closer to the electric coils than normal -- which made it catch fire. Exciting!
After dinner, Nick and I took the tray back in and replaced the tinfoil. Good as new! The fajitas were good, and the wraps ended up being warmed just right.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Rap-Pitoning?!
I just learned something new. Apparently, it is not unheard of for new, hard sea-cliff routes in the UK (typically way up on remote Scottish islands) to have pitons hammered into them on rappel by the first ascensionist before they do the FA. For heaven's sake. If you're rappelling to put the pitons in, can't you just use bolts?
I recently rewatched Hard Grit, and a lot of things struck me as kind of ridiculous. I mean, it was really just people with crashpads and pillows and mattresses and thermarests, doing toprope rehearsals, making GIANT tickmarks, preplacing tons of gear and taping it into place, climbing with four ropes and five belayers who were prepared to jump off rocks in six different directions. And then it turned out that maybe those routes weren't as hard as everyone thought, anyways. That's "trad"?
If I was going to make a parody of Committed, I'd call it "Contrived."
I recently rewatched Hard Grit, and a lot of things struck me as kind of ridiculous. I mean, it was really just people with crashpads and pillows and mattresses and thermarests, doing toprope rehearsals, making GIANT tickmarks, preplacing tons of gear and taping it into place, climbing with four ropes and five belayers who were prepared to jump off rocks in six different directions. And then it turned out that maybe those routes weren't as hard as everyone thought, anyways. That's "trad"?
If I was going to make a parody of Committed, I'd call it "Contrived."
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Wikileaks in England
A recent article does a good job explaining and analyzing (sorry, analysing) a court decision in England forcing the Guardian to take down documents that exposed Barclays’s (is that the right possessive form?) tax evasion techniques. The Guardian was also not allowed to link to Wikileaks, which still had the documents posted.
By the way, my Barclays bank account is run out of the Isle of Man because I’m an “international student.” Which is annoying – the fact that Barclays only had one processing center for thousands and thousands of international students meant that it took almost three months for my full bank account in the UK to be set up.
Getting back to the main point, this has shades of the Bank Julius Baer case from about a year ago, where a US District Court in CA tried to force Wikileaks’s domain registrar to “lock” the domain name. After about a week, the judge turned around and lifted his injunction. He admitted he was wrong in his preliminary decision, and also admitted that his attempt to shut down the site really only garnered a lot of publicity.
One more side note: If I was an IP law professor at Cambridge writing an exam right now that needed a breach of confidence question on it, I would totally write one involving something like the Guardian situation. Maybe throw in something about what happens when a commentator on an article in a different UK newspaper mentions that the documents can be found on Wikileaks (when the article presumably can’t say it itself). Just saying…
Thursday, March 26, 2009
English Judges
First of all, I’m not posting this at a bizarrely early/late hour of the morning. I’m back in the US, and the blog is still on England time (to keep things relatively simple).
Second, on the way to the airport, Nick and I were listening to some BBC radio station in the car, and the DJ mentioned a recent court decision in the UK that found a cyclist in an accident was contributorily negligent for not wearing a helmet. Or, actually, that cyclist was not negligent, but the court said that it would be possible for there to be contributory negligence in that situation. I don’t want to get into the merits of that decision, but instead point out that the DJ then interviewed a fairly high-profile UK judge from the Court of Appeals to get his take on things: The Right Honourable Lord Justice Jacob (I want to be a judge in England to get a name like that).
I just thought it was really interesting that this relatively high-profile judge made random radio appearances to talk about recently decided cases, and no one made a big deal about it (although this wasn’t one he decided or anything). In the US, the high-profile judges definitely like to try and remain super cloistered, and people do make big deals when they agree to be interviewed. So that was an interesting thing I learned about England!
Oh, and going back to an earlier post, here is Abbey Road on Street View:
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Thursday, March 19, 2009
StreetView in England
It looks like Google Street View finally came out in England! It took a while, because things had to be worked out with the “Information Commissioner’s Office,” which required blurring of faces and license plates (which Google software appears to be doing automatically). Blurring wasn’t initially done in the US (although it is now). I find it interesting that the UK, capital of CCTV, was one of the stroppiest countries about Street View.
Some images!:
Cambridge
Malting House:
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Darwin:
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Cambridge Market:
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World's Most Crowded Grocery Store (Sainsbury's in Cambridge):
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Oxford
WEPO Compound:
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Exeter:
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Magdalen (where we stayed for the OUMC Ball on Saturday):
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University Parks:
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Iffley and the four minute mile track:
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London
Nick's Flat in Orpington (above "Andrew Reeves"):
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Mile End (as close as you can get; blue building through the trees):
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Westway Entrance:
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Westway's climbing wall is in the puffy white marshmellow tent in the middle of the roundabout (with a fake outdoor woodie visible outside):
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Highly exciting! I'm sure if you're interested you can poke around and find all sorts of famous stuff in there yourself.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Quirky England...
...and Scotland.
Yesterday I went to a slideshow that a couple people from CUMC put on. One guy talked about his experience climbing the Nose last summer. Most of it was predictable but I did learn one thing I didn't know -- apparently some people take duct tape up the climb and tape over sharp edges that might damage ropes. Sounds like Changing Corners is practically covered in "gaffa" tape. That was news to me!
But the other guy talked about his experiences climbing in the Northwest Highlands of Scotland, and the most interesting thing he spoke about, which kind of sums up the whole of climbing in the UK, was "Fuselage Gully." See, apparently, an army training plane crashed into this gully in the 1950s, and because it is so remote, they never got the fuselage out. Instead, when you do the climb, you just climb through the plane remains, Lost-style. Very British.
The other England quirk I came across was the "Listening Ears" in Kent which tried to "listen" for approaching planes before radar was invented. I suspect that future societies will find those way more confusing than Stonehenge.
Yesterday I went to a slideshow that a couple people from CUMC put on. One guy talked about his experience climbing the Nose last summer. Most of it was predictable but I did learn one thing I didn't know -- apparently some people take duct tape up the climb and tape over sharp edges that might damage ropes. Sounds like Changing Corners is practically covered in "gaffa" tape. That was news to me!
But the other guy talked about his experiences climbing in the Northwest Highlands of Scotland, and the most interesting thing he spoke about, which kind of sums up the whole of climbing in the UK, was "Fuselage Gully." See, apparently, an army training plane crashed into this gully in the 1950s, and because it is so remote, they never got the fuselage out. Instead, when you do the climb, you just climb through the plane remains, Lost-style. Very British.
The other England quirk I came across was the "Listening Ears" in Kent which tried to "listen" for approaching planes before radar was invented. I suspect that future societies will find those way more confusing than Stonehenge.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
The English are Addicted to Windshield Wiper Fluid
Seriously. They seem to have a practically constant stream of it cleaning their "windscreens." I feel like even in a rainstorm they would periodically do it. I used to think it was just Nick, but I've realized that everyone else does it too.
Meanwhile, the Mile End "director" critiqued my GriGri belaying tonight. I was belaying the way that, like, 90% of the people who use GriGris do -- right hand, palm up, holding the cam down when feeding out rope quickly with pinky and a little aid from ring and middle fingers, etc. Normal. So the director came over and said in a little dipomatic way that he'd like to give me a suggestion, so I said fine, and I figured it would be that new way that Petzl advocates here. (The video also illustrates what I do -- the "classic technique." Don't worry, I don't do the death skull-and-crossbones method at the end of the video.) I particularly figured that this new method would be the suggestion, because there is also a poster on the Mile End wall advocating it.
Now, sidenote right here: the new technique is probably superior on little dental floss ropes. But on old fat clunky ones, it makes too sharp an angle with the GriGri when it comes time to feed out rope quickly. You get too much drag, and you can't feed out rope fast enough. So, since I seem to always be belaying old ropes that are >10mm, I still use the old method. With, say, a 9.6, I'd be much more tempted to try and get better at the new way.
So, anyways, I was waiting for an explanation of the new way, with reference to the poster, but it never came. Instead, Mr. Director seemed to want me to not manually disengage the cam at all. As in, just feed out rope slowly. Don't disengage with pinky, don't disengage with thumb, don't disengage. (You can see this in the video at the "giving slack as the climber progresses" stage.) Clipping quickly never came up. I got the impression that Mr. Director had never actually lead-belayed with a GriGri. So, I just said "okay, thank you" and used Nick's ATC (well, Jaws) until Mr. Director left the room.
Stupid Mile End.
Meanwhile, the Mile End "director" critiqued my GriGri belaying tonight. I was belaying the way that, like, 90% of the people who use GriGris do -- right hand, palm up, holding the cam down when feeding out rope quickly with pinky and a little aid from ring and middle fingers, etc. Normal. So the director came over and said in a little dipomatic way that he'd like to give me a suggestion, so I said fine, and I figured it would be that new way that Petzl advocates here. (The video also illustrates what I do -- the "classic technique." Don't worry, I don't do the death skull-and-crossbones method at the end of the video.) I particularly figured that this new method would be the suggestion, because there is also a poster on the Mile End wall advocating it.
Now, sidenote right here: the new technique is probably superior on little dental floss ropes. But on old fat clunky ones, it makes too sharp an angle with the GriGri when it comes time to feed out rope quickly. You get too much drag, and you can't feed out rope fast enough. So, since I seem to always be belaying old ropes that are >10mm, I still use the old method. With, say, a 9.6, I'd be much more tempted to try and get better at the new way.
So, anyways, I was waiting for an explanation of the new way, with reference to the poster, but it never came. Instead, Mr. Director seemed to want me to not manually disengage the cam at all. As in, just feed out rope slowly. Don't disengage with pinky, don't disengage with thumb, don't disengage. (You can see this in the video at the "giving slack as the climber progresses" stage.) Clipping quickly never came up. I got the impression that Mr. Director had never actually lead-belayed with a GriGri. So, I just said "okay, thank you" and used Nick's ATC (well, Jaws) until Mr. Director left the room.
Stupid Mile End.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Ultimate Boondoggle
In case you haven't yet gathered, there is lots of weather-drama going on in the UK. After the biggest snowstorm in southern England in eighteen years on Monday (whatever), the weather has stayed chilly all week, and there is more snow falling today. Airports and other public transportation are all still pretty inoperative. The problem is, this weekend is supposed to be the big "varsity meet" in North Wales with OUMC and CUMC.
Now, CUMC and OUMC are having very different responses to the weather. Oxford still seems to be planning on coming in full force -- they have a "minibus" (large van) full of people, and they all seem to be fully intent on coming despite the fact that conditions for the weekend seem to be the sort that are going to be bad for everything. Sort of a stick-their-head-in-the-sand approach. One of them who lives in Wales is claiming that at the moment the sun is shining brightly in both the towns and the mountains right now -- I'm a little skeptical.
Meanwhile Cambridge is doing the run-around-with-their-heads-cut-off approach. Rather than doing a rented "minibus," the plan was to go up in private cars. Except all the sudden, no one wants to go. They are completely panicked about the weather, both for driving and climbing, and have all decided that they can't be bothered to go on what probably is going to be a boondoggle. Which I would understand -- except that they signed up in the first place. It was clear to me from Day 1 that going to N. Wales in February was going to be a boondoggle -- but I signed up with that plan in mind. Maybe if there were more kebab shops in Llanberis they would still go.
Nick and I are probably still going (with an empty car, to wander around through snow/rain at ground level because I don't have crampons, axes, etc....). I still think it will be fun to go up to the hut and have big fires and adventures, even if they end up being at sea level. But I suspect that the "varsity" meet will be missing half of varsity. (Another factor is that the OUMC trip is officially controlled by the "Sports Fed" at Oxford, so if they decide the weather is too bad they could pull the plug on the whole thing on Oxford's side ... and then we would be missing both halves of varsity.)
Stay tuned for updates...
Now, CUMC and OUMC are having very different responses to the weather. Oxford still seems to be planning on coming in full force -- they have a "minibus" (large van) full of people, and they all seem to be fully intent on coming despite the fact that conditions for the weekend seem to be the sort that are going to be bad for everything. Sort of a stick-their-head-in-the-sand approach. One of them who lives in Wales is claiming that at the moment the sun is shining brightly in both the towns and the mountains right now -- I'm a little skeptical.
Meanwhile Cambridge is doing the run-around-with-their-heads-cut-off approach. Rather than doing a rented "minibus," the plan was to go up in private cars. Except all the sudden, no one wants to go. They are completely panicked about the weather, both for driving and climbing, and have all decided that they can't be bothered to go on what probably is going to be a boondoggle. Which I would understand -- except that they signed up in the first place. It was clear to me from Day 1 that going to N. Wales in February was going to be a boondoggle -- but I signed up with that plan in mind. Maybe if there were more kebab shops in Llanberis they would still go.
Nick and I are probably still going (with an empty car, to wander around through snow/rain at ground level because I don't have crampons, axes, etc....). I still think it will be fun to go up to the hut and have big fires and adventures, even if they end up being at sea level. But I suspect that the "varsity" meet will be missing half of varsity. (Another factor is that the OUMC trip is officially controlled by the "Sports Fed" at Oxford, so if they decide the weather is too bad they could pull the plug on the whole thing on Oxford's side ... and then we would be missing both halves of varsity.)
Stay tuned for updates...
Monday, February 2, 2009
Siberian Storm
So, England thinks it's having a storm of the century. It's been snowing continuously in southern England since we left Westway last night, but only about 2-3 inches are actually sticking on the ground in Cambridge. That hasn't stopped the drama, though. Clare-from-Ireland is claiming that the weather is coming over directly from Siberia, Nick's work is cancelled for the day, Heathrow is cancelling flights left and right (and apparently one plane slid off the runway), and Mark-from-India is claiming that he stuck his umbrella into the snow here in Cambridge and it was nine inches deep.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Chicago in London
On Friday, Nick and I went to go see the play Chicago at Cambridge Theatre in London's West End (it was his Christmas present to me). We had dinner at Fire & Stone, a fancy-ish London pizza place first (there was a good deal on getting dinner and the play tickets). I got a good pizza with little potato and bacon bits on it, and a smoothie (excellent!).
The play itself was good. As predicted, the actors were British but spoke with American accents. The main characters' accents were more-or-less good, although they occasionally seemed to change which part of the U.S. they were from. They did very Sarah Palin-ish a's, which is kind of midwestern and very distinct from the English a. Well, most of the time they did. Occasionally they threw in an English a just to keep things interesting.
However, the bit characters with only a few lines of speaking each had accents that were a mess. They ended up being just very weird-sounding British accents. I get the sense that the accent coach didn't really spend time with these characters. That was okay, though -- I got a kick out of it.
Also, this weekend, I got a cold, went to Westway, read a funny article online (Nick lives quite near Pratts Bottom, unsurprisingly), and learned that protesters are staging a sit-in in our law building (I haven't even gone over to the building since Thursday, so this is news to me). Exciting!
The play itself was good. As predicted, the actors were British but spoke with American accents. The main characters' accents were more-or-less good, although they occasionally seemed to change which part of the U.S. they were from. They did very Sarah Palin-ish a's, which is kind of midwestern and very distinct from the English a. Well, most of the time they did. Occasionally they threw in an English a just to keep things interesting.
However, the bit characters with only a few lines of speaking each had accents that were a mess. They ended up being just very weird-sounding British accents. I get the sense that the accent coach didn't really spend time with these characters. That was okay, though -- I got a kick out of it.
Also, this weekend, I got a cold, went to Westway, read a funny article online (Nick lives quite near Pratts Bottom, unsurprisingly), and learned that protesters are staging a sit-in in our law building (I haven't even gone over to the building since Thursday, so this is news to me). Exciting!
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
1.1-World Country
So, there are still a few anachronistic ways that England does not feel like an entirely developed country. I'm sure you've all heard about how they still haven't figured out how to get hot and cold water to come out of the same faucet. But today's complaint is that they seem to be pretty blasé about broken heating systems. By this point, you all should probably have heard about my Westway issues on Saturday with the broken heating system there. Disaster. Nick was climbing better than me indoors for once because he has more body fat to insulate him from the cold (according to me). But today, the heating was broken in the (normally cold anway) law faculty building here. And it's not like it's an ancient building with flimsy old pipes -- it was built in 1995.
Speaking of which, I have another complaint about that building: every classroom has about one plug that everyone with a laptop fights over aggressively. First of all, you would think that by 1995, architects would have thought more carefully about the need for plugs in classrooms, and second of all, you would think that by 2008 the plugless classrooms could and should have been retrofitted. But no.
So those are two rants for today.
Speaking of which, I have another complaint about that building: every classroom has about one plug that everyone with a laptop fights over aggressively. First of all, you would think that by 1995, architects would have thought more carefully about the need for plugs in classrooms, and second of all, you would think that by 2008 the plugless classrooms could and should have been retrofitted. But no.
So those are two rants for today.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Sexist SIBL
So one of the big bouldering comp series in the UK is the Southern Indoor Bouldering League. They're having their second round, of six, this weekend. I have been less into bouldering lately, and so been doing less comps, but I looked it up out of curiousity, ande headed on over to the rules.
Now, first of all, a prize to anyone who can figure out what is going on in the rules. There seem to be rounds, normalized scoring, equal points on problems no matter how hard they are, and all sorts of bizarre things going on that wouldn't make sense if you took them at face value. Even includes sentences like this:
So who knows what to make of that.
The one thing that I did pick up out of the rules was this:
For heaven's sake. So no finals for girls. Who decided that?
I suppose, to be completely honest, I do not see nearly as many strong girl climbers in England as I do in the US, even though there are surprisingly many strong boys considering what the climbing in England has to offer (different rant, different rant...). For example, three and a half years ago, at the BUSA bouldering comp, I came in about 10th for the girls, out of around 70 girls. Eddie-from-Oxford came in about 10th for the boys, out of not-that-many-more boys, maybe around 100. But here's the thing. Eddie is one of the best climbers in Ireland. He's put up hard FAs. He's repeated hard E-graded things that haven't seen many ascents. At the time, I climbed about V2 (probably still do).
In an American comp where someone like Eddie came in 10th for the boys, there would be very strong girls coming in 10th for the girls. Not me, sadly. (The winning bouldering girls would all be about 4'11" ... different rant, different rant.) England just doesn't have that many strong female climbers, and I don't know why. It takes someone like Lisa Rands to come over and show them how it's done.
What I do know, though, is that it is unacceptable for major, real bouldering comps in England to not have a finals for the girls. Maybe if they were treated more equally we'd see more girls climbing harder to get a chance to be in finals. No wonder Claire Murphy left for America.
Now, first of all, a prize to anyone who can figure out what is going on in the rules. There seem to be rounds, normalized scoring, equal points on problems no matter how hard they are, and all sorts of bizarre things going on that wouldn't make sense if you took them at face value. Even includes sentences like this:
Junior & Open are open to anyone under 16 on the day of the first event. The open has no age restrictions.
So who knows what to make of that.
The one thing that I did pick up out of the rules was this:
The top 5 scores from the male open event will be entered into the famous SIBL head to head to battle out for glory.
For heaven's sake. So no finals for girls. Who decided that?
I suppose, to be completely honest, I do not see nearly as many strong girl climbers in England as I do in the US, even though there are surprisingly many strong boys considering what the climbing in England has to offer (different rant, different rant...). For example, three and a half years ago, at the BUSA bouldering comp, I came in about 10th for the girls, out of around 70 girls. Eddie-from-Oxford came in about 10th for the boys, out of not-that-many-more boys, maybe around 100. But here's the thing. Eddie is one of the best climbers in Ireland. He's put up hard FAs. He's repeated hard E-graded things that haven't seen many ascents. At the time, I climbed about V2 (probably still do).
In an American comp where someone like Eddie came in 10th for the boys, there would be very strong girls coming in 10th for the girls. Not me, sadly. (The winning bouldering girls would all be about 4'11" ... different rant, different rant.) England just doesn't have that many strong female climbers, and I don't know why. It takes someone like Lisa Rands to come over and show them how it's done.
What I do know, though, is that it is unacceptable for major, real bouldering comps in England to not have a finals for the girls. Maybe if they were treated more equally we'd see more girls climbing harder to get a chance to be in finals. No wonder Claire Murphy left for America.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Remember, Remember...
Today is officially the Fifth of November, but I had my first real Bonfire Night last Saturday at Jen-from-Oxford's parents' house. A lot of Jen's family and friends were there, but so were, from OUMC, Will, Andy, Jo, and Tim, plus me and Nick.
It took us over two and half hours to get down to Southampton from Cambridge in the pouring rain. (We had seen the new James Bond in the morning in Cambridge first -- it came out in England two weeks before it did in the U.S.) I was unconvinced that fireworks and bonfire would actually be happening in all the wetness, but I decided to wait and see. I didn't have a raincoat (Nick's fault) but instead just had a warm down coat.
Now the deal with Guy Fawkes Night in England is that they're celebrating the fact that he failed to blow up Parliament centuries ago by, apparently, successfully blowing things up? That seems to be the gist of it, anyways. So while it is officially celebrated on November 5th, there seems to be a several-week-long period of all sorts of fire- and explosion-related injuries all across England.
When we got to Jen's parents' house, it was still definitely raining, so we milled around inside with everyone. Jen mentioned that she spent an afternoon looking at my Facebook photos where every time she finished an album another one showed up. Eventually, though, the rain slowed and we headed outside to light the bonfire. Nick gave me his warm waterproof to put on over my down jacket and got by with just a scruffy old not-very-waterproof coat. The bonfire had been kept dry all week by having a tarp placed over it, and Jen's parents had set up other various tarps around the garden for us to stand under out of the rain, so that all went according to plan. Jen's parents even had a Guy Fawkes effigy to burn atop the bonfire in proper style.
The bonfire actually was extremely warm -- but seemed to be getting a little close to the fence behind it (which ended up slightly blackened by the end of the night). Apparently this was an improvement over last year, though, when a section of the fence burned down.
As Jen's parents made dinner, Nick began setting off some of the many, many fireworks that we had for the night. Apparently, Jen's father had specifically requested Nick for this year because he has done "such a good job" of "responsibly" setting off fireworks in past years. According to Nick. There appears to be a low bar there, though -- according to lore, in past years, Sven-from-OUMC once accidentally shot a firework directly at the side of Jen's parents' house, and another Jen-relative once stuck a rocket in the ground that was supposed to shoot up, meaning that it got stuck, went off at ground level, and made everyone dive for cover as it went off like a bomb.
So Nick began setting off fireworks. Most of them were relatively low-key. There were small ones that went off at ground level (on purpose) that shot off colored sparks in a relatively contained manner. There were ones that popped way up into the air but didn't do much once up there. There were also ones that could be hammered to the fence that went off while spinning around in a circle (which again seems like it should be pretty dangerous). I started off by holding a sparkler, which seemed like plenty for me.
Eventually, with about half the fireworks gone, the bonfire died down and we went in for dinner, which was a buffet style thing with chili and cheesy jackets, which Nick ate a lot of.
After dinner, it was time to head outside for more fireworks. Nick taught me to set off a few of the ground-level ones in the little flower pot, which went well for me -- now the initial sparklers seemed a lot less scary. Meanwhile, Nick learned a tough lesson of his own at the time. We were keeping the fireworks in a greenhouse right next to the flowerpart staging area. In all the fireworks instructions, they specifically said to bury these fireworks before they went off, but Nick decided that that was not that important a suggestion -- kind of like the one to not drink alcohol while setting them off.
So anyways, one of the fireworks that we had was some sort of "seven shot" thing. It shot up little balls way into the sky, and did it one at a time with a second or two in between each one as it burned down. This one got to about shot number four when it started wobbling. It wobbled more and more drastically with shot five, and then, after shot six, it tipped over entirely and aimed straight at the greenhouse. Nick, Andy, Will, and Tim all quickly ran away -- as it fired its last shot directly into the greenhouse.
Somehow it didn't manage to set off any of the gazillion other fireworks in the greenhouse, and didn't even manage to make an exit hole (that we could find, anyway). However, there was definitely a broken pane of glass from the entrance hole. At that point, Nick learned to bury the fireworks better.
Eventually we moved on to some of the bigger fireworks. There were "rockets" that got placed into tubes, and lit, and then the rockets themselves shot up to the sky while the tubes stayed on the ground (this was the type that had exploded years before when a relative had stuck the rocket directly into the ground sans tube, and it hadn't been able to escape).
Finally, we got to some of the big boxes, of which we had a couple. These actually shot real, big bang fireworks up into the sky. By this point, I was used to lighting them and actually lit one of the big bang fireworks myself. Below are pictures of the firework that I, personally, set off.
The still-smoking aftermath:
So that was all pretty exciting and fun! Besides Nick breaking the greenhouse, I managed to have the muddiest shoes of everyone and got mud all over the kitchen -- which then got onto Jen's socks. I'm not sure how they got so muddy. Picture of them 24 hours after the fact:
So that was our adventure! Additionally, we may be going to another fireworks party this upcoming Saturday -- so who knows what sort of carnage that one will result in.
It took us over two and half hours to get down to Southampton from Cambridge in the pouring rain. (We had seen the new James Bond in the morning in Cambridge first -- it came out in England two weeks before it did in the U.S.) I was unconvinced that fireworks and bonfire would actually be happening in all the wetness, but I decided to wait and see. I didn't have a raincoat (Nick's fault) but instead just had a warm down coat.
Now the deal with Guy Fawkes Night in England is that they're celebrating the fact that he failed to blow up Parliament centuries ago by, apparently, successfully blowing things up? That seems to be the gist of it, anyways. So while it is officially celebrated on November 5th, there seems to be a several-week-long period of all sorts of fire- and explosion-related injuries all across England.
When we got to Jen's parents' house, it was still definitely raining, so we milled around inside with everyone. Jen mentioned that she spent an afternoon looking at my Facebook photos where every time she finished an album another one showed up. Eventually, though, the rain slowed and we headed outside to light the bonfire. Nick gave me his warm waterproof to put on over my down jacket and got by with just a scruffy old not-very-waterproof coat. The bonfire had been kept dry all week by having a tarp placed over it, and Jen's parents had set up other various tarps around the garden for us to stand under out of the rain, so that all went according to plan. Jen's parents even had a Guy Fawkes effigy to burn atop the bonfire in proper style.
The bonfire actually was extremely warm -- but seemed to be getting a little close to the fence behind it (which ended up slightly blackened by the end of the night). Apparently this was an improvement over last year, though, when a section of the fence burned down.
As Jen's parents made dinner, Nick began setting off some of the many, many fireworks that we had for the night. Apparently, Jen's father had specifically requested Nick for this year because he has done "such a good job" of "responsibly" setting off fireworks in past years. According to Nick. There appears to be a low bar there, though -- according to lore, in past years, Sven-from-OUMC once accidentally shot a firework directly at the side of Jen's parents' house, and another Jen-relative once stuck a rocket in the ground that was supposed to shoot up, meaning that it got stuck, went off at ground level, and made everyone dive for cover as it went off like a bomb.
So Nick began setting off fireworks. Most of them were relatively low-key. There were small ones that went off at ground level (on purpose) that shot off colored sparks in a relatively contained manner. There were ones that popped way up into the air but didn't do much once up there. There were also ones that could be hammered to the fence that went off while spinning around in a circle (which again seems like it should be pretty dangerous). I started off by holding a sparkler, which seemed like plenty for me.
Eventually, with about half the fireworks gone, the bonfire died down and we went in for dinner, which was a buffet style thing with chili and cheesy jackets, which Nick ate a lot of.
After dinner, it was time to head outside for more fireworks. Nick taught me to set off a few of the ground-level ones in the little flower pot, which went well for me -- now the initial sparklers seemed a lot less scary. Meanwhile, Nick learned a tough lesson of his own at the time. We were keeping the fireworks in a greenhouse right next to the flowerpart staging area. In all the fireworks instructions, they specifically said to bury these fireworks before they went off, but Nick decided that that was not that important a suggestion -- kind of like the one to not drink alcohol while setting them off.
So anyways, one of the fireworks that we had was some sort of "seven shot" thing. It shot up little balls way into the sky, and did it one at a time with a second or two in between each one as it burned down. This one got to about shot number four when it started wobbling. It wobbled more and more drastically with shot five, and then, after shot six, it tipped over entirely and aimed straight at the greenhouse. Nick, Andy, Will, and Tim all quickly ran away -- as it fired its last shot directly into the greenhouse.
Somehow it didn't manage to set off any of the gazillion other fireworks in the greenhouse, and didn't even manage to make an exit hole (that we could find, anyway). However, there was definitely a broken pane of glass from the entrance hole. At that point, Nick learned to bury the fireworks better.
Eventually we moved on to some of the bigger fireworks. There were "rockets" that got placed into tubes, and lit, and then the rockets themselves shot up to the sky while the tubes stayed on the ground (this was the type that had exploded years before when a relative had stuck the rocket directly into the ground sans tube, and it hadn't been able to escape).
Finally, we got to some of the big boxes, of which we had a couple. These actually shot real, big bang fireworks up into the sky. By this point, I was used to lighting them and actually lit one of the big bang fireworks myself. Below are pictures of the firework that I, personally, set off.
The still-smoking aftermath:
So that was all pretty exciting and fun! Besides Nick breaking the greenhouse, I managed to have the muddiest shoes of everyone and got mud all over the kitchen -- which then got onto Jen's socks. I'm not sure how they got so muddy. Picture of them 24 hours after the fact:
So that was our adventure! Additionally, we may be going to another fireworks party this upcoming Saturday -- so who knows what sort of carnage that one will result in.
Wonkavision, American Style
Just got back from watching some election coverage in the Darwin TV room with a good mix of Americans and, well, not-Americans. For most of the time, we were watching CNN, with occasional forays into the BBC coverage during the commercials. And they were extremely different. The BBC essentially had five old British guys sitting around a plain wood desk with old-school, barely-existant graphics and no props.
Meanwhile, on CNN, there were red-white-and-blue graphics and flags, both real and virutal, crowding the screen. The commentators' laptops were covered with CNN logos. They had a set of touch screens to rival those in the new James Bond (which, by the way, I saw on Saturday). And, I am not even kidding you, they had a reporter that they hologrammed in to the studio from Chicago.
Other Nika-updates: Nick survived America and came back to England on Friday. Also, as of Monday, he was no longer homeless -- bonus. Meanwhile, I went to a proper Bonfire Night on Saturday -- stay tuned for a full post on that sometime soon.
Meanwhile, on CNN, there were red-white-and-blue graphics and flags, both real and virutal, crowding the screen. The commentators' laptops were covered with CNN logos. They had a set of touch screens to rival those in the new James Bond (which, by the way, I saw on Saturday). And, I am not even kidding you, they had a reporter that they hologrammed in to the studio from Chicago.
Other Nika-updates: Nick survived America and came back to England on Friday. Also, as of Monday, he was no longer homeless -- bonus. Meanwhile, I went to a proper Bonfire Night on Saturday -- stay tuned for a full post on that sometime soon.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
It's Official
As discussed, HLS has changed its grading policy to a High Pass - Pass - Low Pass - Fail system. There was apparently a lot of debate at the law school about how the transition would occur. It appears that Dean Kagan has decided to implement it with no retroactivity, so only the current 1Ls will have transcripts that are all in the new system. Additionally, current 3Ls are not going to have it implemented for them at all -- this year, they will still be graded with letters. Meanwhile, current 2Ls are the stroppiest -- they will be graded with letters this year but next year, as 3Ls, they will be graded with the P/F system. They're a bit cranky about what this will mean for their transcripts and for honors.
Of course, I'm kind of a 2.5L right now. This means that next year, during my final HLS semester, I will most likely be getting P/F grades. Additionally, this year will show up only as a P/F on my transcript (with no HP/LP options for this year). Meanwhile, I'll also have two years of undistinguished letter grades. So this will be tricky to explain to people. I don't really mind other than that, though, and I also figure that I'll already have some explaining to do based on this year alone. However, some of the other kids from HLS doing this program with me are getting somewhat up in arms about the whole thing. Additionally, current 2Ls who would do this Cambridge program next year would be in the same position -- they'd have two semesters of grades, a year of P/F based on their time in England, and a final semester of HP/P/LP/F. I wonder if they'll be stroppy too.
Two other bits of news:
Of course, I'm kind of a 2.5L right now. This means that next year, during my final HLS semester, I will most likely be getting P/F grades. Additionally, this year will show up only as a P/F on my transcript (with no HP/LP options for this year). Meanwhile, I'll also have two years of undistinguished letter grades. So this will be tricky to explain to people. I don't really mind other than that, though, and I also figure that I'll already have some explaining to do based on this year alone. However, some of the other kids from HLS doing this program with me are getting somewhat up in arms about the whole thing. Additionally, current 2Ls who would do this Cambridge program next year would be in the same position -- they'd have two semesters of grades, a year of P/F based on their time in England, and a final semester of HP/P/LP/F. I wonder if they'll be stroppy too.
Two other bits of news:
- Halloween isn't a big deal in England, so apparently my college seems to have no qualms about having a Halloween bop on November 1st. November 1st is the day to gorge yourself on candy and be recovering from events -- not the day to have a Halloween party. Halloween is over by then! Arghh. Also, I had a craving for candy corn the other day, which they definitely don't sell in England, so I've made Nick buy some for me in America and bring them to me on Friday.
- I have been working on laundry for the last couple of days, which has unsurprisingly been a bit of a bumpy ride. I've found some interesting things in laundry machines along the way, though. The other day I found a L1 coin in a dryer, and then today I found a metal spoon in a washing machine. Curious.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Two New Things I've Learned about England
1. "Grassing" is British for tattling.
2. England has yet to develop the technology of self-adhesive stamps. (When my licking failed I had to sticky tape the stamps to the envelope.)
Also, in other news, I went to a CUMC slideshow tonight. The two social secretaries (at least, I think they're the social secretaries...) each presented on climbing trips they did over the summer. The first one, Gregor-from-Scotland, did a combination sailing/climbing trip around the Isle of Skye and the Outer Hebrides, including Pabbay. It looked like they had remarkably good weather for it, and a lot of seacliff climbing. The photos were tiny, and it didn't look like amazing climbing from the photos, but a lot of people like to climb in that area of Scotland so maybe it's got more going for it.
Then Goldie-from-Australia presented with Richard #2 on a trip they did to the Bernese Oberland over the summer. There was a lot of moraine and "glass-eee-ehhs." They had one kind-of-epic where they temporarily lost two of their climbers overnight (Richards #1 and #2), but they seemed to have found them again the next morning which made them all happy.
So pretty standard for a slideshow. But it was good. They went to the pub afterwards, but I skipped because I had to eat a really late dinner because I ended up eating a big-and-late lunch with the other three HLS kids at the Italian restaurant (which is in an old mill-type building) across from my house.
Oh, and I also awkwardly introduced myself to Lucas-from-Harvard at the slideshow. He was the HMC president the year before I arrived at Harvard, but has been at Cambridge ever since, so I've only met him like once or twice. At one point during the slideshow, he asked a question about "glay-shers" which made me happy.
2. England has yet to develop the technology of self-adhesive stamps. (When my licking failed I had to sticky tape the stamps to the envelope.)
Also, in other news, I went to a CUMC slideshow tonight. The two social secretaries (at least, I think they're the social secretaries...) each presented on climbing trips they did over the summer. The first one, Gregor-from-Scotland, did a combination sailing/climbing trip around the Isle of Skye and the Outer Hebrides, including Pabbay. It looked like they had remarkably good weather for it, and a lot of seacliff climbing. The photos were tiny, and it didn't look like amazing climbing from the photos, but a lot of people like to climb in that area of Scotland so maybe it's got more going for it.
Then Goldie-from-Australia presented with Richard #2 on a trip they did to the Bernese Oberland over the summer. There was a lot of moraine and "glass-eee-ehhs." They had one kind-of-epic where they temporarily lost two of their climbers overnight (Richards #1 and #2), but they seemed to have found them again the next morning which made them all happy.
So pretty standard for a slideshow. But it was good. They went to the pub afterwards, but I skipped because I had to eat a really late dinner because I ended up eating a big-and-late lunch with the other three HLS kids at the Italian restaurant (which is in an old mill-type building) across from my house.
Oh, and I also awkwardly introduced myself to Lucas-from-Harvard at the slideshow. He was the HMC president the year before I arrived at Harvard, but has been at Cambridge ever since, so I've only met him like once or twice. At one point during the slideshow, he asked a question about "glay-shers" which made me happy.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Language Difficulties
When I logged into Facebook recently, it asked me, in big and bold letters right at the top of the page:
Haha, Facebook, that really depends on who you ask. The reason it wants to know is because it wants help translating it into other languages. Perhaps it will begin asking for Favourite Colours?
Meanwhile, Nick is having his own difficulties adjusting to American life. While he is not exactly linguistically gifted, there is one crucial thing that he seems to know how to ask for in every language of the world. The three sentences of French that he knows are:
However, he talks quietly and his normal English speech is often quite hard for me (and many, many other Americans) to understand. When he attempts to order a beaaahhhh in America, it usually takes a number of tries before I interject and explain it to the server. This has prompted him to exclaim, "This is the one country in the world that I simply cannot order a beah in!"
Finally, I have noticed that my frequent climbing around the Quebeçois at Rumney has created automatic associations with a French accent in my brain. First of all, my brain seems to think that everyone who speaks with a French accent climbs. Last night at dinner with the other HLS kids, one of them brought along her French boyfriend. When they asked me where, exactly, in France I had been recently, and I had found out that the boyfriend lived about an hour south of Paris, I told him I had been to Fontainebleau for climbing, and he said "Ahh, yes, in zee forest, right?" My initial reaction was then to have a whole conversation with him about climbing there, and I had to remind myself that just because he had heard of it and had a French accent didn't mean that he had ever climbed.
Second, my brain also seems to think that not only does everyone who speaks French accent climbs, but that everyone who speaks with a French accent climbs well. This is presumably because the Quebeçois who are willing to make long drives down to Rumney are often top climbers with few local challenges. So, it was quite strange for me to be in Orpierre where many times the French were the biggest bumblies at the crag. I knew, intellectually, that better French climbers would be at Verdon or Ceüse, which are both about an hour (?) away from Orpierre, but it was still strange to see the gumbies epicing up well-bolted Rumney-style 5.7s and 5.8s in perfect French.
Sidenote: The computer is getting more and more sorted out, so I promise blog posts about our actual French vacation (complete with photos, hopefully) will be coming soon.
Hello Nika, do you speak English (UK)?
Haha, Facebook, that really depends on who you ask. The reason it wants to know is because it wants help translating it into other languages. Perhaps it will begin asking for Favourite Colours?
Meanwhile, Nick is having his own difficulties adjusting to American life. While he is not exactly linguistically gifted, there is one crucial thing that he seems to know how to ask for in every language of the world. The three sentences of French that he knows are:
Je m'appelle Nick. Je suis Anglais. Je voudrais une bière.
However, he talks quietly and his normal English speech is often quite hard for me (and many, many other Americans) to understand. When he attempts to order a beaaahhhh in America, it usually takes a number of tries before I interject and explain it to the server. This has prompted him to exclaim, "This is the one country in the world that I simply cannot order a beah in!"
Finally, I have noticed that my frequent climbing around the Quebeçois at Rumney has created automatic associations with a French accent in my brain. First of all, my brain seems to think that everyone who speaks with a French accent climbs. Last night at dinner with the other HLS kids, one of them brought along her French boyfriend. When they asked me where, exactly, in France I had been recently, and I had found out that the boyfriend lived about an hour south of Paris, I told him I had been to Fontainebleau for climbing, and he said "Ahh, yes, in zee forest, right?" My initial reaction was then to have a whole conversation with him about climbing there, and I had to remind myself that just because he had heard of it and had a French accent didn't mean that he had ever climbed.
Second, my brain also seems to think that not only does everyone who speaks French accent climbs, but that everyone who speaks with a French accent climbs well. This is presumably because the Quebeçois who are willing to make long drives down to Rumney are often top climbers with few local challenges. So, it was quite strange for me to be in Orpierre where many times the French were the biggest bumblies at the crag. I knew, intellectually, that better French climbers would be at Verdon or Ceüse, which are both about an hour (?) away from Orpierre, but it was still strange to see the gumbies epicing up well-bolted Rumney-style 5.7s and 5.8s in perfect French.
Sidenote: The computer is getting more and more sorted out, so I promise blog posts about our actual French vacation (complete with photos, hopefully) will be coming soon.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Punting from the Wrong End of the Boat
Yesterday afternoon, I went punting in Cambridge for the first time with other Darwin "freshers," plus stowaway Nick. There was me, Nick, Lawrence-from-Germany, Noa-from-Israel, Alexander-from-Albania, and Stijn-from-Belgium, who also happens to be the owner of the palace-room below mine in the Malting House (still haven't gotten over that one...).
As we were getting in the punts, our "Admiral of the Punts," a Darwin student, was reassuring the more nervous-looking freshers that "it's really really hard to sink a punt." (Famous last words -- the first punt-sinking I experienced at Oxford was truly accidental.) He went on to say that it takes five people pushing down hard on one side of the punt for it to start sinking (Nick scoffed at this one -- "I've sunk one all by myself, alone in the punt!") and saying that it really only happened with drunk people around in eighth week (Nick didn't disagree with this one). The freshers who didn't see Nick and I snickering at each other were duly reassured.
Things started off quite peacefully. Lawrence-from-Germany had spent a month in Cambridge once previously, and seemed to have really gotten the hang of punting much better than I did during my whole year in Oxford. Eventually he let Stijn take over, and Stijn got the idea immediately, too. Then, it was poor Alexander-from-Albania's turn. It took Alexander a while to figure out how to not punt us around in circles. Eventually, though, he more-or-less started to send us in a straight line, and things went more-or-less smoothly.
But then, the punt pole got just a little bit stuck. Now, everyone in the punt had already been warned that if the pole gets stuck you should just let go (apparently Lawrence once already had issues with this in the past and had learned the hard way). However, Alexander held on for just a split second too long, and SPLASH! Whoopsie.
He was pretty much okay, and a better sport than I would have been about it. He even chose to ride back in the punt rather than walking back to Darwin, which would have been faster (although it's also quite possible that he just didn't know how to get back to Darwin on foot). At that point, Nick took over the punting and took us all the way back. Noa-from-Israel didn't have much enthusiasm for trying it after Alexander's mishap, and I'm personally much better at sitting in the punt and giving know-it-all instructions to everyone rather than actually punting myself.
A few comparisons between Oxford and Cambridge punting: the punting at Cambridge feels a lot more "urban" than the Oxford punting, since basically everyone on the river is punting up and down a relatively short section of the River Cam along the backs of some of the big Cambridge colleges. There were times where I saw about four or five punts all right next to each other in the river. There are plenty more collisions and bottlenecks, as well, but they don't seem to disturb anyone. While the crowds provide a steering challenge for punters, the physical difficulties of punting are easier at Cambridge, since the river has a more solid bottom and is generally less deep than the Oxford one. Additionally, there are many more tourists taking pictures from the many bridges that cross the river, so if you do something dramatic (like fall in) you're sure to generate much more attention than in Oxford. At Oxford, you can go to generally out-of-the-way areas to practice going down weirs, sinking, bridge-climbing, or fitting a million people in the punt -- at Cambridge, everything you do is front-and-center and you can't get away with too much. Also, punting itself is more of a tourist attraction in Cambridge, so there are many more commercial punts on the river with bored-looking guides who expertly navigate the punt pile-ups.
And, of course, Oxford and Cambridge punt from opposite ends of the boat.
As we were getting in the punts, our "Admiral of the Punts," a Darwin student, was reassuring the more nervous-looking freshers that "it's really really hard to sink a punt." (Famous last words -- the first punt-sinking I experienced at Oxford was truly accidental.) He went on to say that it takes five people pushing down hard on one side of the punt for it to start sinking (Nick scoffed at this one -- "I've sunk one all by myself, alone in the punt!") and saying that it really only happened with drunk people around in eighth week (Nick didn't disagree with this one). The freshers who didn't see Nick and I snickering at each other were duly reassured.
Things started off quite peacefully. Lawrence-from-Germany had spent a month in Cambridge once previously, and seemed to have really gotten the hang of punting much better than I did during my whole year in Oxford. Eventually he let Stijn take over, and Stijn got the idea immediately, too. Then, it was poor Alexander-from-Albania's turn. It took Alexander a while to figure out how to not punt us around in circles. Eventually, though, he more-or-less started to send us in a straight line, and things went more-or-less smoothly.
But then, the punt pole got just a little bit stuck. Now, everyone in the punt had already been warned that if the pole gets stuck you should just let go (apparently Lawrence once already had issues with this in the past and had learned the hard way). However, Alexander held on for just a split second too long, and SPLASH! Whoopsie.
He was pretty much okay, and a better sport than I would have been about it. He even chose to ride back in the punt rather than walking back to Darwin, which would have been faster (although it's also quite possible that he just didn't know how to get back to Darwin on foot). At that point, Nick took over the punting and took us all the way back. Noa-from-Israel didn't have much enthusiasm for trying it after Alexander's mishap, and I'm personally much better at sitting in the punt and giving know-it-all instructions to everyone rather than actually punting myself.
A few comparisons between Oxford and Cambridge punting: the punting at Cambridge feels a lot more "urban" than the Oxford punting, since basically everyone on the river is punting up and down a relatively short section of the River Cam along the backs of some of the big Cambridge colleges. There were times where I saw about four or five punts all right next to each other in the river. There are plenty more collisions and bottlenecks, as well, but they don't seem to disturb anyone. While the crowds provide a steering challenge for punters, the physical difficulties of punting are easier at Cambridge, since the river has a more solid bottom and is generally less deep than the Oxford one. Additionally, there are many more tourists taking pictures from the many bridges that cross the river, so if you do something dramatic (like fall in) you're sure to generate much more attention than in Oxford. At Oxford, you can go to generally out-of-the-way areas to practice going down weirs, sinking, bridge-climbing, or fitting a million people in the punt -- at Cambridge, everything you do is front-and-center and you can't get away with too much. Also, punting itself is more of a tourist attraction in Cambridge, so there are many more commercial punts on the river with bored-looking guides who expertly navigate the punt pile-ups.
And, of course, Oxford and Cambridge punt from opposite ends of the boat.
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