Taken down to custody to be fingerprinted

No, I was not arrested.  If that were the case it would be titled "taken into custody and fingerprinted".  Very different concepts here, but involve the same place, but for different reasons. Not to mention I wouldn't have my computer to write this blog.  But we will get to this story in a minute. 

To go back a moment to an earlier topic - fire drills.  Last week I was sitting in lecture when the alarm goes off.  I'm thinking to myself really? I've had more fire drills or false alarms or whatever in 7 months here than in all my years of teaching, seriously?  We emptied the avenue campus building into the car park.  I don't know if it was a planned drill or if it was caused by one of the workers in the building since they are currently remodeling it.  So that was eventful.  Then a couple of days ago as I was climbing into bed when the alarms went off again in our flat/building.  Yep, love going out in my PJs. Two of my flatmates joined me in the courtyard.  When they finally let us back in, we looked at the masses and decided to walk to the convenience store for milk and bread.  Yes, we were in our PJs. Yes this is England.  No, we didn't care. 

Irony seems to be a staple in my life.  I sat in my Language and Intercultural Communications class and we were discussing how our national culture does not define us, but that we have multiple cultures that we are a part of and mix to make us unique.  One of my classmates made the observation that when we meet people one of the first things we ask is where are they from.  But really, it doesn't matter.  We make judgements based on this information that may or maynot be correct.  There is a TED talk (I don't remember the gals name) about don't ask me where I am from, but ask where are you local.  So I go from that lecture straight over to my Language Ideologies in a Globalising World where we had a guest professor speaking to us that day.  She looks around the room and the first thing she asks... any guesses?  yep where is everyone from.....   This class I remind you is about English as a Lingua Franca and well, of course it is going to be a diverse group, duh. And if we are so worried about diversity, what does it matter?  I guess she missed the last lecture.... 

Before I get to the story you have been waiting for,  I just need to share this: 

  
The burritos are pretty authentic US style mexican burrito.  Like you would get at say Cafe Rio, or Chipotle but not quite as big. I guess Cali as opposed to Texas or Mexico?  Gotta love it.  Or this was another favorite read at a place called Fayre and Square. 


Cuz I always eat Texas, Louisiana and New York style foods at the same time..... didn't try those, was a little scared to to be honest....

So the story.... It's not as exciting as you are hoping it will be.  
I am trying to renew my teaching certificate and managed to overlook the fact that I have to have a background check as part of it.  I called the state office of education and because I am currently out of state, I have to have the fingerprint cards done and sent back and not the live scan.  The cards had to be mailed to someone in the US, who then had to mail them to me here.  In the meantime I went on a search as to where I can have fingerprinting done.  The University sent me to the Post Office, who gave me conflicting stories that no one here does them on a card with ink any more or check with the Police Station.  I was currently in Eastleigh since that was one of the places the Post Office was supposed to do it... so went around the corner to the station to ask.  The Lady behind the counter was nice and informed me that the station in Southampton would be easier to have it done at, and that I would need to call and make an appointment.  So I called and set up the appointment.  We aren't going to go into the cost for the fingerprinting here on top of the cost for the background check by the state....
 So yesterday I head over to the police station where this large burly woman officer is working the front desk.  I hand over my visa permit card with my passport and the fingerprinting cards and my fee, in exact change... through the little slot under the glass window.  After a few minutes she calls me to come back and opens the door.  She was friendly and informs me not to touch the wall and the red strip on it, that it will sound an alarm somewhere in the building.  She wasn't sure where, but one would sound.  So I walked carefully in the middle of the hallway.  We went through a series of very heavy badged secured locked doors and into custody. Does that make me now in custody?  Anyway,  she pulls out the stand which they put the cards on and ink on the glass pad that is used to take fingerprints.  This thing sits about 8 inches to a foot high on the counter.  She looks at me and says you're not a very big person are you? (even smaller now having lost 30 lbs....)  We may need to find you a stool to stand on.... However I could reach, it was about shoulder height for me, and only a little above her waist.   We chatted as she took my prints.  I helped her keep on task and she commented that it was a good thing I was there... except if I wasn't she wouldn't have to be doing this the old fashioned way to start with so, not sure how that works. Did you know in the UK they would take your palm print as well... 
So I have now been down in custody and fingerprinted in the UK.... It is to go with the story of when my car got totalled and I rode to JHS in the back of a police car.  Pretty sure somewhere on the security camera film for the school is me being let out of the police car by the cop.  He suggested for fun he could handcuff me, but I really wasn't in the mood for playing mental games with my students and admin at the particular point in time... 

That's been my week -   pulled out of bed...taken down into custody and fingerprinted....  (maybe the crime was wandering the streets in my PJs....)  A rather exciting week. ;) 

Things I've noticed

Being a passenger instead of the driver, I find myself noticing more things out the windows of the vehicle I am in.  Sometimes it is odd things, like the number of bridal shops there are in Southampton (they are everywhere!) , or the Kebab/Burger places that also sell Chinese food and fish and chips.  I've discovered the different kinds of charity shops, pharmacies,  and other Ma and Pa operations like book stores, butcher shops, florists, bakeries, and fresh food shops.  Then there are the names of the pubs (i.e. Stags, The Hobbit, The Giddy Bridge, The Jolly Taxpayer, The Cowherds, The Duck Inn....) Not to mention the variety and amount of foliage and the critters that live in them (Squirrels, rats, birds).  I also started to notice the variations in types of roads, especially ones I've never heard of before.  This led me to pay attention to how many different ones there actually were.  In case you ever wondered, or if you haven't, here are the roads I have discovered. 

The first one that caught my attention was close.  So it would be *name* Close.  This is a residential street that has no through access.  We could really use this one in the states....
Then there is the crescent.  It is as you would think, a road that curves  in a semi circle. Next  is the Terrace.  So named for the terrace houses that line it. Every town has a High Street.  This is the street that has all the shops on it. Some roads are labeled for the things that are next to it like Mede, Garden, Grove, Square, Green, Esplanade and Quay (pronounced key).  Some I'm still trying to figure out (here in the UK a couple don't really make sense....) are Valley, Saint, Ridge, Mount, Chase, and Circus (i.e. Piccadilly Circus in London). You also have Park, Place, and Broadway. Hmmm Monopoly anyone? Oh wait,that's Boardwalk....Then there are the usual Avenue, Court, Drive, Lane, Road, Square, Street, and Way. However I have not seen boulevard or cul-de-sac. Maybe because these are French words. Just a guess. 

Motorways are always 'M' roads like the M5.  These are the same as Freeways.  Divided Highways are called dual carriage ways and are labeled 'A' roads.  Bypasses are ring roads and the ramps on and off of the motorway are slip roads. Almost all intersections are roundabouts and they go to the left ..... In case you are wondering they measure in miles here, not kilometers, and the normal speed limit on the motorway is 70 mph. 

So add these to the list you learned last week.  If you are having issues translating last week blog you can find the American equivalents for the words on the 'Say What?' page. 

I guess I have a strange curiosity about words. This could  help explain why I'm here studying what I am studying. But it is also fun just to notice 'mundane' things and ponder why. You should try it.  What did you notice the last time you went for a ride?  

How's your British?

Right. So since it has been a week of assignments and not much to actually tell about, I thought I would share British English.  Though I have a page listing many of the vocabulary differences, I want to share how much difference there really is. This is not all of the differences, but just to give you a taste of the culture. Many of these I have learned in the process of trying to just live here.  

Daily my alarms sounds at half six. I cook my food on the hob and eat it on my crockery with my cutlery.  The other day I ate sausage and mash for tea and for pudding I had a lovely cream tea of scones with jam and clotted cream. I like to eat fish and chips though I haven't tried mushy peas yet. When I want junk food I eat crisps, biscuits, digestives, and sweets.  
When it is cold I put on my jumper and trouser and my boots. Never go out in public wearing only pants.  When it rains I need to wear wellies to keep my feet dry, and when I exercise I wear my trainers and track suit which I bought in the leisure wear dept at the shop. When grocery shopping you put the food in a trolley, and you stand in the queue to check out.  Actually in the UK everything is a queue....
 I carry my books to Uni in my rucksack to the faculty of Humanities where I sit through lecture listening to my tutor.  I haven't actually had to write an exam, just very long assignments for my assessments. The exams are given by an invigilator. 
I live in a flat with flatmates. My room in my flat is an ensuite which is really nice. It is on the 12th floor so most people will use the lift. Some people let a studio flat or a bedsit and sometimes it is a shared house or shared facilities. Although I don't fancy sharing the loo.  I have friends who live in semi-detached house, terraced houses which can be either mid terraced or end of terrace, or detached houses.   
 When you walk down the side of the street you walk on the pavement. The engine of the car is under the bonnet and you put your parcels in the boot. And to see out the front you clean the windscreen. Yearly the car needs to have  a MOT so you can pay the road tax. To get from here to London you drive on the motorway where there might diversions and queues. If you don't have a car you can go by coach or carriage. When you go to the shop you park in the car park. 
    Babies wear nappies and you give them a dummy to keep them quiet.  Their mum will take them for a walk in a pram.  Toddlers might ride in a push chair.  
At the end of a sentence you put a full stop. Not to mention that if I want to be emphatic I would say "that's it full stop!" You always say sorry, even if the other person bumps into you.  And cheers is always said when thanking someone for whatever.  When you enter a shop or office you will be greeted with "are you alright there?" if they want to be of service to you. People who are not feeling well and computers if not working are poorly. If you get something right they will tell you well done.  The movie was brilliant, the weather is lovely and I think I have finally sorted out what people are saying most of the time. 

So even though I came here speaking English, I've had to learn British. I get along with it.  It has been a fun adventure and I have been alright with it all.  Cheers! 

Crash course in Portuguese

It has been interesting that since coming to the UK I have had the opportunity to meet and work with people from many different nationalities.  This weekend I had a crash course in Portuguese. 

In our ward we have a little Portuguese family.  The grandmother has lived here in the UK for about a year and is struggling to learn to speak English.  She is very sweet, but tends to be by herself because she can't communicate with people.  So trying to reach out, my friends who always invite me to go with them to the temple invited this sweet sister to join us this week.  We left Friday afternoon, stayed the night in the temple accommodations and then came back Saturday afternoon. So Maria and I shared a room Friday night.  We got in and set up and I sat down to read.  She came over with her phrase book and had me read things to her.  After trying to help her with her English, she then had me read the Portuguese.  It is close enough to Spanish that I got it mostly right.  She would correct and have me do it again and she lit up and got really excited.  She started to teach me basic things in Portuguese.  We headed down to the kitchen to join the others for dinner.  She started looking to me to interpret what she was saying.  We used the phrase book and had very simple and broken conversations. 

Later that evening after our temple session, she and I sat down and had a nice conversation. Between her book, a sheet of paper, family photos, and google translate on my phone we chatted  for over an hour.  I learned about her as well as vocabulary in Portuguese.  Some of the words are the same or similar to Spanish, others are very different.  She would start to talk and get faster and lose me then ended with "no sabe".  I said "un pequeno".  Saturday afternoon she would rattle something off to me and I would then try to interpret for the others the idea she was trying to communicate.  I was wishing I could remember the vocabulary better.  Spanish words I haven't thought of in years would come to mind and even some German ones.... and I would sort through for the one I wanted. Sometimes successfully, and sometimes not.   

Today when I sat down in Sunday school, Maria instead of her sitting on the very back row by herself, came up and sat next to me.  I tried desperately to get my tablet to put the lesson in Portuguese for her, but the website was down.... :/  I guess it wasn't much different for her than any other week, but at least she was with people and felt like she had a friend.  I've thought a lot about how lonely it would be only being able to talk with her daughter and son in law.  I've been in situations where everyone around me is speaking a language I didn't know and when they would reach out to me, even simply was fabulous.  I could feel her loneliness and wished I could learn faster, but she seem grateful for what I did learn and the effort I made to chat with her and show her that I cared about her.  

I guess while I'm studying languages, I need to add Portuguese.  I have several other friends who are Portuguese speaking, so better late than never.  Maria I can tell is depending on me to be one more person who can help to bridge the communication gap.  Watching her face light up when she could make herself understood was priceless.  Helping her to know she has friends that care enough to communicate with her is now an added goal.  So as usual, I am keeping way too busy, but loving the associations that are being  built.  If anyone knows a good Portuguese crash course, I think I need it. 

Easter Holiday

I have decided that when you are in school the word holiday only refers to the idea of no classes.  It is by no means a holiday from study or assignments.  However, I am not obligated to be present on campus, so a short trip was in order.  My flatmate and I looked over our assignment schedule and decided that we could squeak out 3 days to take a mini holiday.  After checking prices for transportation we decided to fly to Edinburgh Scotland and spend three days there.  We knew we couldn't afford to take more time off, but a break from the pressures of school was needed.  Our other flatmate that normally hangs with us, didn't feel she could make this trip, so the two of us set off instead.  

Scotland is cold.  It is North so it only stands to figure.  Samar thought it was warmer there than in Southampton.  That may have been due to the fact  that she wore thick tights under her jeans, 2 jumpers, a coat and a scarf along with the hijab scarf.... Then I walked her legs off.  We averaged over 9 miles a day in walking, scouring over the city and scurrying  the surrounding hills.  She had never hiked any sort of hill or mountain before.  So I taught her how to be a mountain goat.... something I'm very familiar with.  I dragged her to the top of Arthur's seat to the very pinnacle where only the brave of heart go.  

In our adventuring, besides hiking Arthur's seat, we walked the Royal Mile to Edinburgh castle, Princes Street Gardens, the castle esplanade, St. Giles Cathedral, Calton Hill including hiking up Jacob's ladder, the Royal terrace, Scottish Parliament, High street, Palace of Holyroodhouse, Old town, New town, North Bridge, the University of Edinburgh, walked the canal, and went into almost every shop we passed.  We didn't make it over to Dean Village, or the actual Harry Potter tour, but did see some of the things that inspired JK Rowling's writing of the first three books. I believe we passed by the cafe where she started writing.  

Edinburgh is a really unique city with imposing structures, sandwiched between the sea and the hills. It has a rough beauty and a sense of strength and imposing fortress.  The city feeling more imposing than the castle itself though its perch on the hill is awesome.  Oddly, The city smelled like corn.  We did pass the corn exchange, and it kinda reminded me of Iowa,( just like Arthur's seat reminded me of the foothills of the mountains in Utah...)but really it smelled of unsweetened corn cakes, or corn on a grill.  For a place whose industry is wool and cashmere, I was confused by the smell of corn....  though I much prefer that smell over others it could have...

It was a lovely three days and we hated to come back to reality.  The fact that the weather is getting warmer and the sun is shining more doesn't help me focus at my computer.  I have two more major assignments due during the holiday and one more about a week after....Sigh, at least I had a few days of respite to try to unwind from the stress of deadlines and study.  I might try to squeeze a day trip in here somewhere before classes start back up.  It makes a good incentive to get the assignments done so I can breathe between them.  Easter is a time of renewal and Scotland was a great place to find it.  

Here are some pictures of the trip from my camera. The ones posted on facebook were taken with my phone.  

  

view from Arthur's seat looking towards the sea. 

Edinburgh zoomed in from the top of Arthur's seat

 the climb to the summit, nearer the top it is scrambling over rock to get to the pinnacle. 

View from the top

 The unicorn is the national animal of Scotland

Above the top row of windows of the building it says "Castle Hill school" Then under them is says " the Scotch Whisky Experience".....

looking from the castle back down the Royal Mile

Castle Edinburgh

view of the Scottish government buildings from Princes street

Part of the Royal mile as seen from Princes Street

 Edinburgh Castle from the Prince Street Gardens. 

Mistaken Identities

One of the fun things about being a mature student is that no one quite knows who you are or where you fit into the scheme of things.  So add this to the fact that I'm a bit of an anomaly for many things anyway, it adds to people's confusions about me.  I thought I would share a few that have happened here fairly recently.  

The first happened near the start of this term.  The lecturer was looking at the role and walking around the room while we were having a discussion in small groups.  She was trying to connect names and faces so would stop and make sure she had the right name with the right student.  She looked at me and asked if I was a lecturer in the department.  I told her no, but I would love to be.  She looked a little puzzled and then asked what programme of study on was on and my background.  They always seem to get really interested when I tell them that my second language is ASL. Then the background of teaching etc.  I am still not sure why she thought I was another lecturer, unless she figured I didn't really look like a typical student, but what is a typical student on a postgraduate program in linguistics?  Maybe because I didn't look like an international student which is 98% of my classmates?  I just chuckled to myself.  

My favorite was before our last SuPhil choir concert.  There is always a queue for the women's loo.  So standing in line the woman behind me inquired "Are you Italian?" I turned and shook my head no.  "Spanish then?"   No.  "I have a friend coming to the concert tonight who is Italian, and your skin tones and colouring look alot like hers." I replied that my mom always says it is dark Norwegian.  She looked at me, then says "You've got a bit of an American accent going on there haven't you?  You could be just about anything then couldn't you?"  Except  that I know of no Italian or Spanish heritage in my ancestry.  We both shrugged, she seemed to be perplexed as to where I would get my olive skin and dark colouring.  I smiled internally.  Good to know I could be Italian or Spanish.  As a child in the summer I spent loads of time outside and would get quite tanned.  I looked like I could have been from Mexico, so now I can add Italian to that.  I guess the fact that I am 1/2 British and 1/4 German doesn't come out in my looks...

What brought all this to memory was due to this last Tuesday.  It was late morning and  I was focusing on my assignment in my room when the fire alarm sounded.  I scraped myself off the ceiling and hoped that it would stop.  Of course not. So I grabbed my shoes and my key and headed down the 12 flights of stairs.  On my way down there were some students, but most are gone on holiday, but it was the cleaning people who were having to vacate the building.  When I got down to the doors members of the residence team were holding them open and there were other official looking people standing by. I walked past and headed into the courtyard and one of the cleaning people looked at me and pointed back to the door.  I turned around and the man standing by the door was holding a list and motioned for me to come over.  When I got near he asked me what my name was.  I told him Vicki.  He looked at his list and then back at me and goes, "Oh, you're a student aren't you?  Sorry." I'm thinking to myself hmmm, I'm not wearing the the uniform.... but obviously I didn't look like I could be one of the students streaming out of the building.  I've managed to confuse people again.  When the alarms went off in the other two buildings I decided it was a drill for the cleaning teams. Glad I could confuse them by being a mature student working during their drill. 

I could share more stories, it seems to happen quite a lot to me.  I find myself smiling inside when they seem confused that I don't fit into the mold that they think I belong in.  I guess I don't stereotype as well as people would like.  I am also not who everyone thinks I am.  "Excuse me....oh sorry", no, you have the wrong person yet again.  If I am always mistaken for someone else, is there anyone out there who people think is me?      

Beware the ides of March!

Beware the ides of March!  That's me.  At least that's what I tell people when they ask me when my birthday is.  Some get the Shakespeare reference, or even the reference to Julius Caesar,  but not the date.  It is a date on the Roman calendar that corresponds to the 15 of March.  Now I usually lay low and don't announce my birthday, that way I don't have any sort of expectations that can be dashed.  In fact, I had set up visiting teaching appointments for that evening because it was the one day that would work to go out.  

I was doing well at hiding except for a couple of giveaways.  The first one was on Sunday when they announced the only birthday for the week was mine and handed me a card.  My visiting teaching companion, who happened to be sitting next to me, turned and gave me a dirty look and told me I was naughty.  ( I can't remember the last time someone used that term to describe me, if ever..) I had to talk like a mad woman to convince her there was no reason to change the appointments and it was a perfectly fine thing to do.  It's not like I have family close to celebrate with. The second was the fact that I forget that facebook sends notices to all of your friends to remind them that is your birthday and to say something nice. 

The celebrations, which I didn't expect at all, started on Monday. First off I got a notice from the reception that I had a parcel. One of my daughters, she was definitely naughty, had sent me a present that cost as much to ship and the gift itself!  Then my flatmate, who I surprised with a huge banner on her door the day before for her birthday, decided she needed to return in kind.  I was working on assignments in my room when she messaged me and said she was bored and wanted to go out.  We determined the place to go, like always, was Sprinkles and grabbed our other flatmate in crime.  The best of plans often go awry as did this one.  She had gone to the counter first so that she could set me up for a surprise.  However, the crew working that day made it all rather humorous.  First they brought me out the wrong order.  Then they brought out my other flatmates order, with a candle in it and the guy sets in front of her and starts to sing happy birthday.  She slides it across the table to me and I turn to the guilty party who insists it is for me, even though her birthday was yesterday.  The guy who brought it is now so confused he stops singing.... my flatmates finish it however, I blow out the candle, remove it from the ice cream and push the dish back to my flatmate that it belongs to.  We all laughed, except the server who was still very confused. 

Tuesday dawned a beautiful day.  My good friends who do way too much for me at is it picked me up at noon to take me to lunch.  I got in their car and they handed me a gift bag that had yummy smelling lotions and body soaps as well as two birthday cards and a box of cupcakes to share with my flatmates. I ran the goodies back up to my room, then they took me to Lyndhurst in the New Forest for lunch and dessert. (Scampi and chips with warm chocolate fudge cake with pouring cream)  My visiting teaching companion, after we finished our visits and were headed back on the bus, handed me a gift and card as well.  When I got home and knocked on my flatmates doors to give them a cupcake, the flatmate who got my candle in her ice cream handed me a bouquet of beautiful carnations!  Between all of that and the well wishers on facebook, and whatsapp, (including a voice message of singing happy birthday from my German daughter) the messages from my family, phone calls from two of my sons and my call from my brother who every year sings to me, I felt very loved and overwhelmed.  I did not expect that kind of fuss made over my birthday.  In fact I expected it to be a very normal day with at least my family remembering with messages.    

Thursday was more celebration.  I only see some of the people on my program this term on Thursdays.  My good friend and sidekick handed me a gift bag with a card and wished me a happy birthday.  She only knew because, well facebook told her. It was a fun bag full of music themed gifts. A mug, stationery, pen, pencil, and magnet.  I was again floored by the gift, it's thoughtfulness and extent.  And when in the midst of ugly assignment deadlines did she have time to go shopping?! She is a better friend than I Gunga Din.  That evening was the Relief Society Birthday dinner (not mine) and we had an English High Tea.  There were cucumber and salmon sandwiches, scones with clotted cream and jam, hot chocolate and caro barley drink.  The china was gorgeous and the company fabulous.  

Beware the ides of March!   It might have been bad for Julius Caesar, but for me it was awesome! My heart if full of gratitude for the outpouring of love that was shown to me.  I cannot thank everyone enough for making it a very happy birthday. 


I have to share the pictures of the English tea, mainly because the chine was exquisite and the food was scrumptious! 

 clotted cream... ummm....

 homemade scones and jam

 true teaspoons. :)