A Legitimate Post, For Once

I'm sitting in the London Heathrow airport, awaiting my flight to Iceland. Feeling happy, excited, & inspired, as per usual. I'm reading this chapter of a book called "The Geography of Bliss" by Eric Weiner that Mama mailed me. It's all about Iceland--an examination of Reykjavek's existence of overloaded happiness.

Weiner traveled to the city--that I will be sleeping in tonight--and came to understand Iceland's secret to happiness: its people accept failure. They encourage failure. Because, well, because the attempt at succeeding is more important than not attempting at all. Even if one knows they'll fail, much can be gained along the path of failure--thus suggesting nothing truly seems to yield failure alone. Well, it seems that's how an optimist would see it.

That's how I see it.

It's the norm in Iceland, according to Weiner's findings, to have multiple "identities". Ergo, doctors are not merely just doctors. Musicians are not just musicians. Mail men are not just mail men. All are artists, all are poets, all are so spiritually connected to their surrounding nature that is Iceland. All are human.

I can identify with them, completely. I am an Icelander. Most of us are, I bet. Well, at least, most of us want to be. It depends on weather we act upon our genuine ambitions or not.

America has contructed our society to be so damn focused on single specialties, to the point where its inhabitents are literally encouraged to mute their strengths & passions that are unrelated to a predetermined motive.

This is the issue I have with the life I've been constructing for myself these past two years in college--ever since I changed my major from English to Geology. As a Geology major, I have forced myself to suppress my artistic passions: writing, photography, music. As well as community service, psychology, and non-profit work. And I blame this on myself. But my own case of discarding my passions is one that is far too common in America's society. This, then, says something about our developmental layout as a culture.

It's not fair for our society to enforce this obsessed, miniscually-focused lifestyle among us. And it's not fair for us to follow-out our society-driven life paths rather than our personally-driven ones. We're the ones limiting ourselves, really, just with the help & genesis of our social construct. It's hard not to limit oneself when pondering the ideal success story.

I want to be a Geologist, yes. But it's hard for anyone to become extraordinary at a sole path when the mind isn't focused on that path alone. And mine isn't even close.

Art has limited me.

Art has built me.

I'm an artist. Maybe more so than a scientist. Definitely more so than a scientist. But, I've been suppressing my artistic motives for the past two years for the purpose of achieving scientific success. For the purpose of achieveing American society's definition of success.

We all have various strengths across a vast spectrum of topics, but it is our own fault for suppressing any that we internally wish to externally share. It would be easy for me to blame society for my lack of artistic endeavors during these past two years, but that wouldn't be fair, as it is I who has chosen to follow society's guidence & discouragement.

Easy fix? Time to get that artistic mind rollin' again.

See you in six hours, Reykjavek!

Busy, busy month it's been! I haven't actually been in Plymouth for a weekend for probably five weeks straight now. All is well and exciting over here. Learning & seeing so much Geology!!! My travelling has included France, Cheddar gorge (twice!), South Wales, Bodmin Moor, & Cornwall. Writing about each trip would take ages, so instead I will post a few photos the the trips I brought my camera along for.

Bodmin Moor

South Wales

Cornwall trad climbing

Le Conquet, France

Bonfire Night ("Remember remember, the 5th of November...")

Next up: Ireland in 10 days; Iceland in 21 days!!!!!!!

Adventuring Throughout England

I just filled out my absentee ballot!!! When I think back to the election four years ago, when I was sixteen, I remember feeling a colossal amount of unfairness in terms of my citizen rights. I didn't understand how I, a High school student who spent countless hours phone-banking for Obama and partook in regular research to stay informed about the candidates and political atmosphere at the time, wasn't allowed the right to vote while fellow undereducated, close-minded individuals were granted the right to vote merely because of their age. So today, at last, my voice is being heard on a ballot form. A wonderful day.

I've been wanting to post about my most recent two weeks for a while now, but my 12-hour breaks between trips in Plymouth merely seem to have served the purpose of unpacking my tent, drying it out, laughing at my flat mates as they watch horror films in our hallway, and attempting to catch up on weeks worth of much-needed sleep. But at last, I now have a full six days in between my travels to spend in Plymouth.

Two weekends ago I went to Dartmoor National Park for two days with the Adventure & Expo club.  It was such a wonderful feeling to get into the climbing-rhythm again, since the past four months in Alaska didn't serve my love for climbing well as that magical place is overloaded with Shale, Slate, and Basalt rock formations (beautiful rocks for the Geologist in me, but horrible rocks for the Climber in me). 

After a long, rewarding day of climbing and walking throughout Dartmoor, we all went to the very small (and only) pub in Princetown--which I ended up staying at until the sun started to rise due to the wonderful local people who were far too entertaining for me to leave. The next morning we all awoke in our tents & headed off to an unknown location a good thirty miles East of Plymouth to go spelunking. We crawled, climbed, squeezed, and slid around this cave for a few hours until we came across an 80 m deep lake within the darkness of the cave. So, naturally, we--wetsuit, helmet, headlamp, wellies included--cliff jumped into the 50-something degree water until we decided it was time to head back into the above-world and find our way back to Plymouth. After finding sunlight, we headed to a river to clean up, which resulted in an energetic "wellies" fight (where we would all fill up our boots with water and douse each other until entirely soaked.) It was a nice day.

This past weekend I went on a train adventure throughout Southwest England. We arrived in St. Ives, England, equipt with our backpacking packs, tents, sleeping bags, etc and headed straight for "Three Ferrets", the local pub. Upon entrance, we were asked "Is this a fancy dress party [what the English call a costume party]? What's with the outfits?" I laughed as I realized this wonderfully blunt local was referring to our normal, homeless-looking clothes. After the pubs' close, everyone went to the hostel while Josh and I searched around (in the pouring rain, mind you) for a place to set up camp for the night. The result? A perfectly sloped, green-grassed (and totally legal-sleeping spot...?) garden in the middle of town. 

The next day was spent exploring the beauty that is St. Ives. After dinner, we caught a last-minute bus to Penzance and, to continue with our trend, headed straight for the local pub. We were all challenged the night before by a St. Ives local to attempt the Penzance "Cider Challenge" and drink two local Cider brews. We all, overachievers by nature, decided to go above and beyond and drink four local Ciders, along with various other brews, whilst participating in karaoke until the wee hours of the night. Challenge success, I'd say.

The next morning we caught a bus to Land's End, the most Western Point of England. The sun was out and the waves were crashing into the sea cliffs, so we spent much of our time there relaxing in the "pillow grass" whilst laughing about every little thing that came to conversation. 

We proceeded to miss our bus back to Penzance by a whopping twenty seconds, so we each broke up into pairs and hitchiked our way back to town. Thank you to the lovely couple who picked up us homeless-looking kids!

 The next day I left for my week-long Geology trip. The trip consisted of nine-hour field days and long nights spent in the local Exmoor pub. Our field destinations were Dartmoor National Park, Saunton Sands, a beach locality in Somerset along the southern margin of the Bristol Channel, the North Somerset coast (regions of the Kilve & East Quantoxhead villages), and "The Punchbowl" in Exmoor. 

The most impressive locality was the East Quantoxhead spot on Wednesday - The International Geologic boundary for the base of the lower Jurassic (The Sinemurian and Pliensbachian stages), about 185 million years in age. Pretty incredible. We examined lithologies for the crux of the day--about five hours worth--and the various index Ammonite fossils present. As for the rest of the day? I juggled a lot of rocks. Productivity.

This week I have my first Exam--hooray! It's embarrassing that I am actually looking forward to being assessed...what is Geology doing to me? This upcoming weekend I head to France with the Geologic Society. Travels, travels, travels...

First Two Weeks

Finally all settled here in England! My first couple of weeks (couple meaning two, Payuh, not seven) have been busy and full of newness.
New friends, new culture, new field adventuring.

Shown to the right and below are photos of the English Channel from a spot on Plymouth Hoe that is about a fifteen minute walk from my dorm.

Let's touch on a bit of the newness in terms of culture. For example, at the current moment I'm drinking "English" coffee: cheap, instant coffee that is making the Barista in me cringe with every sip & want to explore European farmland in search of organic, fair trade coffee roast existence. Then, though, the Barista in me remembers that I'm in fact the Barista who puts espresso shots into customers' Chai Lattes, & this humbling memory of my credibility (or lack there of) as a Barista allows me to drink this instant coffee with a bit of satisfaction.

And since we are on the topic of drinks, I will briefly touch on the food & drink culture in England that I've thus far been exposed to. First of all, my staple foods (being peanut butter, macaroni & cheese, and bagels) do not or in very small doses exist here in Plymouth. Dark beer (chiefly India Pale Ale varieties), my favorite form of alcohol, is sparse here as well. Maybe this is just because I am in a Uni town & students prefer cheap forms of hard liquor and beer to more sophisticated Ales and Lagers.

Nevertheless, the brands and staple foods in grocery stores here are far more different than those of America's than I expected. The whole sustainability/organic movement doesn't seem to be as prominent in the culture here as it is in America's. Bulk foods are a rarity here, so I am struggling to minimize my waste-per-capita when broccoli, apples, sweet potatoes, spinach, tomatoes, and even avocados can only be purchased along with their thick, individual plastic packaging. So, continuing my vegetarian lifestyle will be a challenge here, but one that I have accepted and will simply have to work a bit harder to find my own England flow with.

So anyway, moving on. Plymouth. A beautiful city. The student life is far more lively than the student life in Montana. Not only because of the fact that this school has over twice as many students as U. Montana, but also because of the educational curriculum, I believe. The role of a student is based far more on independent study here than it is in America. We don't have a couple hours of homework to do each night here that we must scramble to finish in time for our 8 AM lecture the next morning, but rather we have term papers due in December and term exams in May which equally together amount to our final mark in the class. So, this relaxed style of education seems to allow the students to have more free time themselves--thus the lively student life.

For example, above was taken this past Wednesday night at a concert. Although the next day was a Thursday, most of us didn't have lectures until 2 or 4 PM. Where as on a Wednesday night in Missoula, I would probably be asleep by midnight after having completed an hour or two worth of studying for my 8 AM class the next morning.

The building where I have my
Palaentology & Sedimentology class.
I guess I go to school at Hogwarts?

St. Andrews Tower; erected in the 1400's

The Barbican, about a 10 minute walk from my dorm.

Alaska-->Chicago-->London

Tues Sep 18, 2012

Well, looks like I made it! To Europe, at least. I’m sitting a few blocks away from the Heathrow airport in London on a little grassy knoll with some flowers and periodic sunshine, awaiting my ride to Plymouth which I will be catching a whopping 5 hours later than I expected. Meaning, of course, that I will be arriving into Plymouth tonight after the bank & linens shop close—but right when the pubs & bars start getting festive—so I’m not too heartbroken. Fun tonight, arrival chores tomorrow I suppose.  What a rough life I live.

My brilliant idea to wake up in Chicago at 6 AM yesterday morning to hopefully result in exhaustion for my all-night flight to London thus allowing me to sleep & easily deal with the 8 hour time adjustment was not so brilliant after all. Whew. That was a mouthful. But, yes, the flight was eventful & full of everything but the shut-eye I was hoping to receive. Wine, loud dance music, chit chatting, black lights. Not even kidding. I guess my America --> Europe flight wasn’t so different from Mom & Dad’s flight 38 years ago afterall. Besides the fact that I was the only student on board.

Not to mention, the airline I flew, Virgin Atlantic, gave each of us sleep masks, blankets, pillows, socks—yes, socks­—dinner & breakfast, free wine, & a celebratory atmosphere which allowed me to jump right on into the whole culture shock thing right off the bat in the O’Hare airport! Yee yee!

After leaving an hour later than our scheduled 6PM departure time due to that wretched rain storm that has been following me for the past three days (it came down to Chicago from Alaska), we finally got underway, only to fasten our seat-belts once again for our emergency fuel landing in “Uganda” for an hour-or-so delay.

My plane mates and I were confused, to say the least. Responses of the Captain’s bizarre & unseemingly frantic announcement are as follows:

“We’re stopping in Uganda? Isn’t that…Africa?”

“Wait…is Africa on this side of the Atlantic?”
“Uganda isn’t in Africa, guys. It’s in Europe somewhere!”

“I don’t have my African shots. Are they going to throw me out of the plane before we land?”

Their knowledge of Geography worried me a bit. We had been flying for no more than three hours, so—as if logical reasoning wasn’t enough—physical reasoning existed that made it very obvious to me that we weren’t actually stopping in Uganda. We hadn’t even crossed the Atlantic yet.

So, blindly we sat helplessly in our seats as we landed in a dark, unmarked place somewhere on the Northern hemisphere of our planet. We all laughed—not quite uncontrollably, but almost—about the ridiculousness of our whole landing –in-Uganda-on-our-flight-to-London situation. As all 5 of my my plane mates and I piled on top of each other to look out my small window, since I was the only one of us who had the usually fortunate—but in this specific instance incredibly unfortunate—window seat, we saw a building amidst the seemingly infinite black nothingness that read “Gander”. 





So, there we sat for an hour. No, not in Africa (shockingly), but in this small military base in East East Eastern North America. Did I mention it was East? It was East. The East coast of North America. Which lies on the North American Tectonic plate next to the Atlantic Ocean, which is a different ocean than the Pacific which is where Alaska is located next to….(I hope my passenger from the boat this summer who asked me what ocean we were on is reading this.) I’m so sorry, but when was Geography eliminated from the elementary curriculum? Oh, it wasn’t? Hmm…somehow I don’t believe that based on my recent findings.

So, due to our odd and various delays, I now sit here in London awaiting a bus that will arrive at 13:50 since I was flying over Ireland during my 8:50 bus departure.

Wait, I will, on this grassy knoll, for eccentric passerby’s to walk by that I can wave down until they come over and say hello. Tonight I will be in Plymouth! Well, if all goes according to plan…which at this point seems likely but not definite.

I think I will learn what all this new currency amounts to in the meantime.