Grocery Tech

Seattle is often referred to as some sort of technologically advanced city. Things are called the 'Seattle of this' the 'Seattle of that' (Sorry, Oregonians, no place is ever referred to as the 'Portland of some place', probably because there are already enough actual cities called Portland to go around). But I have discovered at least one area in which Seattle is seriously lagging: the grocery store. While self check-out is great and all, they have that at Asda. If it's at Asda (aka, Wal-mart), it's not cool.

Waitrose, on the other hand, has taken it one step further. If you are somehow designated special (not sure how this occurs), you can grab a little self-scanner when you walk in from the parking lot (they don't have them at the street entrance, special people drive) and then you scan your merchandise as you select it. When you're done, there's a special check-out counter where super-secret happenings go on. I think you just give them the secret hand-shake and your card is charged for the stuff you've scanned. Only once in a blue moon do they actually check to make you scanned everything you purchased. It's amazing. It's like regular shopping is for untrustworthy coach passengers, and this is first class. I can only dream that one day such a technology will start to hit stateside. And I'm also pretty sure that Ted Bunday-Ave Safeway will be the first to do it.

There was a nice sunsest situation yesterday. As I hadn't taken a single picture in over a week, I felt obliged to open up my window and take a few cracks. I feel like it came out okay.

Spring fashion update

It was spring a few weeks ago, and I think it might be spring again, which luckily means a slight change in the fashions seen on the streets. And like with other times of the year, it's a bit scary. What has struck me the most is the sheer strength behind the army of the leggings. While some people are, is seen in the winter months, still wearing them under short denim skirts, most have seemed to toss aside these denim monstrosities for a freer look. Luckily for most this entails really long shirts or short dresses, with leggings either at ankle or capri length. But of course, there are quite a few exceptions to this and quite often things still manage to go wrong.

The first error people seem to make is to wear shirts that are too short with leggings. I think the key style factor here is that the top must reach the top of the thigh. If you can see your tush in stretch pants, you best be at the gym. Not out for a night on the town.

The second, perhaps more disturbing, thing that I've noticed is that some people seem to have leggings that are black, yet a little see-through. I will not go into detail, but if paired with a shirt that's a bit too short, you just want to shake your head and tell the person to go home and try again.

And for the record, I'm not about to go and buy leggings. Especially the ankle length ones because then everyone ends up with clown feet.

"Spring" break

Easter break started this week and so far I've been on campus doing work pretty much all day every day. It's not ideal, but I suppose such is the life of a grad student. Plus I'm trying to get it all done so I can slack off the last two weeks of break. For the most part, campus has been surprisingly populated. The lines in the main food place have been insane. But that's not interesting.

So, despite being the latter half of March, it has been absolutely freezing this week. There's been snow. On Monday there was a thunder storm (see picture, there was a flash of lightning across that sky about 1 second after I took it). But mostly it's just been windier than necessary.

I'm hoping to A) come up with and B) go on at least one more day trip in the next few weeks. This is more difficult than it sounds.

Brighton

After much adieu, I finally made it over Brighton today. Whilst I have technically been there before, I find things are always much more exciting when given the tour by an insider. So, despite the bitter, bitter, bitter cold, today was designated the day.

The day consisted of walking around town, seeing the cute little lanes with all their cute little non-chain stores, some chain stores on non-cute little lanes, walking up and down the pier, playing a couple video games, getting some food, getting a vast quantity of candy and then hiding it in shame from half the group, jumping around outside the Brighton Pavilion (and everywhere else around town that afforded a spare moment), going to the free Brighton museum, and then getting more food. Oh, and I think it might have started to snow on the way back to the car. Or it may have been hail (the weather the last few days has been three steps past bizarre). But in general Brighton was good fun, although I will admit it could have been warmer.

There are a lot of good photos up on picasa now (accessible via the handy link). Let's just say that the kids & pets setting on the new camera is quite good at capturing moments in mid-air. There are also a couple of pics for Horatio on there, as well as any pastry-chefs in the house.

UK's Eurovision song entry

I can't fully explain this. It's best you watch it yourself. Be prepared for some cheese. But if this is indicative of the actual contest, I am PUMPED.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KDLZLsQA4lQ

There's nothing else I can say.

Bournemouth & Winchester

The last few days have been chop ful of tourist/guide times. I got to be the guide. And a tourist. On Friday I took the family to Bournemouth. It was sunny so I figured it would be ideal. Bournemouth is about a 45 minute train ride to the west of here, weaving through some tiny little towns in the new forest along the way (you can see some ponies). It's basically a resorty town and has a huge (HUGE) sandy beach that stretches on for ages. It was still rather cold and windy, so there weren't really people on the beach, and a lot of things were closed, but it still had a beachy/palm-tree vibe to it. And they have decent-sized stores there as well (they are all the same stores as everywhere else, however).

Friday was also red nose/comic relief day. Which basically meant that every once in a while some people would walk by wearing strange outfits, usually carrying some sort of charity bucket (I'm telling you, any chance to dress up in a silly outfit and the English are all over it). And I believe there was an evening television program on as well.

Returning from Bournemouth, I started giving the family the Southampton tour. After walking a couple blocks down Portland Terrace we were cutting over to Above Bar Street, and there ahead of us a couple of young local men were throwing punches at each other while their friends stood around yelling/video-taping/keeping other people from interfering. Nobody seemed to know what to do, but quite a few other people were running to watch. After a minute or two some cops came running up and broke it up. Not really sure what happened after that, as it was necessary to see all the rest of town in the one remaining hour of daylight.

Yesterday we went over to Winchester. Again. Winchester is not that exciting the third time. If anyone else comes to visit, we're not going there. You can pick another cute town to visit. And then we watched some rugby on television. England lost. It wasn't pretty.

Ambassador

Worlds colliding! My family met my English friends yesterday. After a lovely day dominated by presentations about bus reliability and transport economics lectures (4 hours, I understood 20 minutes, at best) I gathered up the troops and headed down to the parent's hotel on the most crowded bus ever. The hotel, aside from being in the middle of a traffic circle, seemed nice enough. But the real point of nervousness for me was introducing everyone! There are a number of things that can go wrong in these sorts of meetings. Primarily, it seems like there is the distinct chance that no one will have anything to say to anyone, and the other likely candidate is that the only thing people can think to discuss is embarrassing stories about yourself. Lukcily this didn't seem to happen. I feel like I must be careful in what I say because a high percentage of the involved parties are likely to read this! Overall, I think it went pretty well. The family got to learn about English sports and schools, and the friends got to learn about how great Portland really, really is. Oh, the activities included going to a pub in Bedford Place slyly called The Pensioners, and going to get pizza and an elusive John Smith's at Chambers. Kelly and MA went to Chambers when they were here as well. I got a pizza with an egg on it! It was exciting. And tasty.

In fear of saying the wrong thing, I'm going to leave this a bit short. Today we head west to Bournemouth and the ancient growth of the New Forest. Enjoy the photographic evidence of yesterday's meeting. I took the photo, which is why I'm not in it (but my purse is!).

The Parents in London

I went up to London to see the family yesterday. Of course, as things around here are difficult in nature, I had a few annoyances along the way. Basically, I couldn't get a replacement railcard on campus, I had to go to the station. So at the station I couldn't get a replacement card because I didn't have proof of my age (thanks, Home Office!), and although I had proof I was a student, if I wanted a student railcard I would have to do that from campus. So I had to pay an extra 10 pounds to get to London for the day. But what are you gonna do.

We managed to meet up relatively easily and decided to head up to Trafalgar Square and go to the National Gallery to look at famous works of art and be accosted by hordes of uniformed school children on field trips. There was some sort of whoop-tee-do being set up in Trafalgar Square as part of Comic Relief involving a 'mystery celebrity'. I will never know who it was now, sad! I was pleased to finally remember to go see this one painting they have there that is featured in the opening of Desparate Housewives, which while a bit sad, has been on my list since I forgot to go see it in October. After the museum we headed up to Covent Garden for some lunch, after which my dad got pulled into some performance art and performed admirably, it seems. We then sojourned up to the British Museum to look at famous artifacts. While there I learned that while I haven't acquired an accent, per se, I have perhaps picked up some English nuances when it comes to phrasing questions. It's hard to explain, but I was laughed at for the rest of the day each time I asked a question. Now I fear being one of those people who comes back to the US with pretentous foreign manneurisms. Feel free to slap me if I do.

After a quick pint back in Covent Garden, the parents had to be off to get back to their hotel to pick up their tickets for the concert they were attending that night at Royal Albert Hall. I went to Marks and Spencer and got a sandwhich (free range egg & bacon, the freedom of the eggs makes it tasty) and then headed back to Waterloo and caught a train that's first stop was in Winchester! This amazed me slightly. I kept glancing slyly at the magazine the girl next to me was reading. I think she noticed. Sometimes learning about celebrities is more interesting than reading about Iran (I had Vanity Fair).

The family will be coming down to Southampton this afternoon. I told them it's no deal and you can't see the water, but I'm not sure if they believed me. And I hope you like my button in the above photo.

Current immigration status

So I think I am in official legally in this country limbo right about now. After returning from Amsterdam, I didn't get my new Lloyds card until that Thursday, so Friday I hightailed it into town and got myself a new phone so I could you know, have contact with other people. One of my initial phone calls was to the home office. The lovely lady I spoke to basically told me that I was here as a tourist and that I needed to go back to America to apply for a new visa. After a big of 'but, but' arguments, she seemed at least willing to give me a chance and told me the form that I needed to fill out and that I should write a letter to accompany it stating my case, but that a new visa was by no means guaranteed. Being the nerd that I am, I made this phone call from one of the buildings full of computer labs, so after getting off the phone I had to go and explain the situation to the travel buddies. They weren't impressed, to say the least. I indeed wrote a scary letter. It was difficult to find the right balance between looking like I blatantly broke the law and me making the British consulate looking completely mean and at fault. I figured the home office wouldn't be impressed with such an argument. A couple days after sending it all off (including my newly found emergency passport), I got a letter saying they have received it but don't know how long it will take. The website says that 70% are handled within 4 weeks. And most of those cases are most likely just dealing with expired passports. Mine involves a police report written in gibberish and an interpretation of a conversation with an immigration officer, which to me implies some degree of complexity.

Other than all that, I am managing to slowly piece things back together. Write now my wallet is sadly empty. I was almost excited to get a copy card because it meant something to go in an additional slot.

On the visitor front, the immediate family arrived in the UK today. They are currently up in London and I will be going up tomorrow for the day to greet them. That also means that approximately one-third of my readers will be away for the next three weeks. Hopefully nothing too exciting will go on (although I'm hoping for at least a few fun day trips over Easter break, which starts next week and extends until mid-April)!

The return to England

Because I wasn't nervous enough already, the flight from Amsterdam to Gatwick had to include vast amounts of turbulence, requiring us to plunge to lower altitudes on more than one occurence.

Finally we land. I consider tossing my cookies in a few garbage cans in the terminal, but manage to eventually make it to immigration control. Sadly, unlike in Amsterdam, there is clear distinction between EU and non-EU passports, leaving me to go it alone in what is bound to be the slow-lane. Slow it was. And needless to say, extremely nerve-wracking. When I finally make it up there, I briefly explain the situation to the immigration officer and present my documentation. He cleared stated that the police report was useless (which is understandable as it appears to be jibberish) and asked me a series of questions. He then went and spent a good ten minutes in The Booth with the head immigration officer whilst I stood there trying not to hyperventilate. Oh, and the travel buddies were sitting on the other side of great divide having a jolly old time with some guy from the National Statistics Office. Finally, FINALLY, the guy comes back and tells me that I've got two months to get the new visa situation sorted out and gives me a card for the home office. I try not to look too excited as I walk through to the other side.

The train journy from Gatwick back to Southampton was also frought with difficulties. As they were for the most part somewhat self-inflicted, I won't go into detail. But I will say that it involved traveling on 4 different trains when 2 should have sufficed. And to top things off, nobody had any cash when we got back into the train station and we had to walk about 20 minutes to find a working ATM so I could borrow cash for the cab ride home. Once I made it back I of course had to go to reception to try and get a new key out of them. Needless to say, not my favorite day.

Amsterdam, Part 6

So finally at 2:30 we went back to the consulate, buzzed in and stated my reason for coming, gave a headcount, got searched again, went and got in a really long line to get into little room, realized that everyone else there was Dutch as the afternoon was for them to get visas to go to the US, two hours later got let into little room where we quickly bonded with the security man who was rather amused that the bags we were checking contained clogs and giant pens, and then it took about two seconds for me to pick up the passport. They had been making the Dutch people wait in the big long line again to pick up their bags, but as we were tight with the guard, we waved us right to the front. Getting ahold of the passport was seemingly the biggest obstacle we faced, and so finally having one in hand was a huge sigh of relief (see photo). But as it was about 3, we decided to call the British consulate just to make sure everything would be alright.

Not so much. The woman I talked to kindly informed me that I needed to make an appointment to come in the next morning to get a new visa put into my new passport. I asked if I could go back in as a tourist and get it fixed back in England. She said she didn't know. As this was a key issue, especially when it involves requiring two other people to a) change their travel plans, b) pay for me to change my travel plans and c) missing an entire management lecture, I refrained from making an appointment and said I would call back. I then broke the bad news to my fellow travelers. They were not pleased either. So they then began a frantic England-dialling session to get ahold of a parent of some kind who could try and figure out if I could get back in without having to go in the next day. To kill time until we got a response, we found a place that was warm and served beer.

We got some sort of answer around 4. My new options were to a) go into the consulate the next day and get the visa and march triumphantly back into England with no problems, or b) get on the plane with a photocopy of the lost visa and my new passport and it would be at the disgression of the immigration officer to let me in or turn me away, at which point I could either return to Amsterdam or come in as a tourist and have to return to the US to re-apply for a new visa. Looking at things now, the option of staying the extra day does indeed look like a good choice, but once again, I had no access to money and any shot of me getting back without incurring extra costs was obviously going to look quite rosy. So it was 4 hours until the flight, and we decided we would try and get the copy of the visa and head back to England.

As my parents can surely attest, it was not easy to get a copy of the visa. In fact, it was extremely difficult and stressful for all involved parties. But we finally got a hold of it at the airport, two hours before the flight was set to take off. We got checked in for the flight and then had to go through passport control, at which point the Dutch guy seemed to think my passport was fake (emergency passports look a bit different) and had to consult with the other woman before stamping it and letting me through. I considered this a bad omen. Schipol airport, like Gatwick, is larger than you would think, and they conveniently would not reveal the gate until 30 minutes before the flight, and then it take 15 minutes to get there, including going through security, so everyone there was paniced about missing their flight. While waiting to go through, one guy comes up to us and says he is about to miss his flight and would it be okay to cut, so we said okay. Then he waves to his 8 (yes, 8) friends and they all cut. Sneaky. But they apparently found pot on him so it amused me. And then, after a long day, I was finally on a plane.

Amstderdam, Part 5

We've finally gotten to Monday. I think I can safely describe this day as one of the most stressful ever. It started with an early morning wake-up and a tram trip back to Museumplein to find the US consulate. Luckily one could spot the American flag and tall security fence from some distance away.

There are numerous steps involved in getting into this place. You first have to press the buzzer and they ask what you want. If you have legitimate reason (luckily I did), they will let you in, but want to know how many people are with you. Then you proceed inside the first layer of tall security fence and get your bags searched by yet another young-looking blonde Dutch boy, who asks you a few questions (and in my case, makes you fill out a form because you have no proof of your identity), and then wands you with a very sensitive metal detector. You then proceed through second layer of fencing and get to wait outside a locked door. When they give the okay, you are then allowed in a tiny little room (with your companions), where you again show ID and talk about your feelings, get your bags searched, leave your phone, camera, and most bags, and then when instructed, go through another metal detector. You have then safely made it inside the US consulate in Amsterdam. There are two rooms, one for non-Americans, one for Americans. Safely inside the much less busy American room, I filled out some forms for a new passport and reported the old one long gone, got a new passport paid for, took an oath, and then had to depart to go get some passport photos. I must also note that travel companions were severely disappointed that there is no bathroom at the consulate and were therefore oddly excited to go to a photo store to use their facilities. So then we went and found the photo store, got my pictures, wrote my name on the backs of them (as instructed), quickly discovered that I had managed to get pen on the front of two of them and couldn't get it off, and then dropped the scary photos back off at the consulate (one of the security folks came and got them through the fence). I could go back at 2:30 to pick up an emergency passport. Yay, American consulate. They're on my good side right now.

After this we decided to visit the British consulate for a little compare/contrast and to ask about my visa situation. We finally found the consulate, as it was sort of off the beaten path, and were promptly turned away because we didn't have an appointment. We instead were given a piece of paper with the phone number on it. Upon calling this number, I was told to call back between 3 and 4:30 for questions regarding visas. When I tried asking more questions the operator just kept saying '3 and 4:30' and eventually hung up. So we left the British consulate and decided to look for some nice Dutch souvenirs to kill time until I could pick up emergency passport.

Back in the shopping area, we picked up some giant Amsterdam pens, a pair of clogs, and some bagels for lunch. And then finally it was time to head back to the consulate. Tune in tomorrow for the exciting conclusion to my time in Amsterdam.

Amsterdam, Part 4

After Saturday dinner we went to this sports bar venue to watch what was left of the Ireland-England rugby game. It was completely packed, forcing us and many others to sit on a flight of stairs, and everyone in there was Irish or English save a small group at the end of the bar. As England were getting their asses handed to them on a plate, I quickly realized that this group was much more entertaining to watch than the game. The cast of characters included a middle-aged (aka, well-over 50) blonde man that I'm guessing was the owner and was groping every single person he knew there (male and female), his bald friend, the woman working behind the bar (who was literally doing all of the work), a guy working behind the bar who was seemingly dating the woman behind the bar but was also spending a lot of time hugging the owner, a few random women, and this other guy who randomly started throwing up at the end of the bar while owner guy seemed to cheer him before he was finally shown out. However, he came back about ten minutes later and they gave him plenty of cigarettes and red bull. This may not all come across as bizarre, but I assure you it was. Oh, this was about 8 pm. After the game we went to a few other places, including two Irish bars and the Hard Rock, which was actually really neat because it was right on a canal. I believe the hood was called Leidsplein. But that may not be it at all.

On Sunday we made our way to the Anne Frank Huis, which was pretty intense. You actually get to step through the secret staircase. And you can see the stuff up on the walls. And you get to see the diary. You look out the windows and see what they all saw while they were in hiding. It's all very touching. After this we went to the Van Gogh Museum and saw famous art. I was actually really excited to see two Klimt paintings of forest scenes similar to the neat one we saw in MOMA (you guys know the one of which I speak). And of course there were oodles of Van Goghs (over 200 of his 900 paintings they claim), including another one of the five or so Sunflowers. In the evening time we went to Rembrandtplein or something like that and ended eating dinner at an Australian place, which was oddly similar to American food as I had a burger. We had to call it a night a bit on the early side because first thing Monday morning it would be time to head to the US consulate. We'll leave joyous Monday until tomorrow.

By the way, Adrian and Mark are not gay (aka, the guys in the photo). They just like to stand under quasi-gay signs, giggle, and have their photos taken to amuse Chris (not in photo). (Hi Chris, if you are reading this again on the sly).

Amsterdam, Part 3

Moving on to my second day. The first hurdle to me met was how to get access to my suitcase. Which was conveniently locked. Fortunately the guy at the front desk was able to jimmy it open in about two seconds. It sort of makes you wonder. The mini-twist after that came when one of my travel companions managed to twist his back and couldn't really move without moaning in pain. Yeah. Luckily my tylenol wasn't stolen.

The first stop of the day was to be the police station so I could make a statement and get a formal police report. This involved walking down a rather narrow alley. We turn to go down this alley and there are two horses blocking it. HORSES. A few brave soles were squeezing behind them, and a few more were going under their heads. However, as the closest one started pawing the ground as we approached, we decided it was best to find an alternative route. Finally at the police station, I had a long dialogue with a cute little Dutch police officer who was blonde and looked about 18 years-old. It took about half an hour (pre-coffee, mind you), but I ended up with a print-out with a police report number, a brief recap of what happened, and a list of what was in my purse. I think it amused him when I asked him to put down by student ID card, but I didn't want to have to pay for a replacement (and I didn't, by the way). You also get asked all sorts of weird questions (what color was your phone? is the brand name listed on the outside of your wallet?). The process was completed by my signing the police report, and it being signed by little Dutch boy. And I quote little Dutch boy 'you can't read it, but sign here'. By the way, my 'nationaliteit' is 'Amerikaans Burger'. My 'land' is 'Grootbrittannie'. The comedy just goes on from there.

Finally we were ready to take a look around Amsterdam. It took another hour or so, but we finally got ahold of some lunch, some tram passes, found the necessary tram, and made our way over to the Henneiken Experience (we were thinking Anne Frank, but we opted for up for something a bit cheerier). The Henneiken Experience is a good time, and a good deal. For 10 euros you get to learn all you've ever wanted to know about Henneiken, get to go on two 'rides' (one where you get to learn what's it's like to be a bottle and the other where you get to drive a horse-drawn beer carriage through the streets of Amsterdam as everyone waves and cheers), you get 3 drinks (all Henneiken, quarter-liter), AND a free gift!! While the rides were a little bizarre and you don't actually go anywhere, they were still mildly amusing. You use your first drink token about half way through, and there was a barman there named 'Rolf de Groot', which is currently my favorite name of all time. Activities also include sitting in futuristic chairs looking at Henneiken commercials and making little video greetings that you can email to your friends. And the free gift was a nice silver bottle opener that came in a cool tin that looks like a beer bottle. Needless to say, the line to get in was a good half-block long by the time we left. Oh, and the travel buddies got some big beer mugs with their names engraved on them.

After this we went to the Rijksmuseum or however it's called. It's in a really cool massive building, so it looked like it had a lot of potential. It was also ten euros, came with no beer, but there were some nice paintings. Some Rembrandts, I think. But overall it was not very large and not as good a deal as Henneiken Experience. But the building is worth looking at. For sure.

It was nearing six by the time we left the second museum so it was pretty much dinner time. However, as the tales of the evening were quite extensive, they will have to wait another day.