3 sleeps till Christmas!

The countdown is on, only 3ish or 4 sleeps till Christmas! Here's a couple of pics from the Christmas shopping crowds in York last week, one in the little Shambles part of town, the other in the main parade.

Street music

There was a local orchestra playing outside in my street last night. In the middle of watching Ratatouille, a festive tune crept into the soundtrack. It wasn't until we paused the film and Silent Night continued to play that we realised that Remy the Rat wasn't wandering through the streets of Paris during Christmas time, it was actually coming from two doors down the street. Kudos to them, it was very cold out. They have a very clever system though - the road is so narrow and the houses so close together that they can go doorknocking and collect from every house after just a couple of songs, because everyone could hear them.

Master photographer

The first photographer to truly open my eyes to the power of the medium was Ralph Gibson. I admire his use of 'chiaroscuro' to create mood and emotion, and his unique cropping and framing technique to completely transform the subject of the shot.

Counting to ten

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10...
It's hard not to read these in English when I see them written as roman numbers. I'm trying to learn numbers in other languages too. So far I know them in these languages:

• one two three four five six seven eight nine ten (my mother tongue)
• tahi rua toru wha rimu ono whitu waru iwa tekau (te reo maori)
• un deux trois quatre cinq six sept huit neuf dix (français)
• ichi 一 ni 二 san 三 shi (or yon) 四 go 五 roku 六 shichi (or nana) 七 hachi 八 kyu 九 ju 十 (I can recite the Japanese numbers fine, but I only remembered half of the kanji - thanks to my computer for filling in the gaps there. I found this cool learning tune too)
• uno dos tres cuatro cinco seis siete ocho nueve diez (espanol)
• eins zwei drei fier fünf sechs sieben acht nein zehn (Deutsch)

After that my knowledge is a little bit rough. Just give me a bit of warning first before you ask me to recite them:

• jeden twa trzy cztery piec szesc siedem osiem dziewiec dziesiec (Polish. My pronunciation of these is still a long way off. I also only have the spelling because my friend was showing me I'd be better off learning them phonetically than reading them)
• tasi lua tolu fa lima ono fitu valu iva sefulu (Samoan ...okay I admit I didn't know number 10, but the rest are easy because I know it's like counting in Maori, but with a different phonetic alphabet)
• jedan dwa tri... deset = 1, 2, 3, 10 (Croatian. Thankfully not too different from Polish, which helps)
  

And the coolest thing is, aside from Poland, I've been to all of the countries where these numbers are used, and it has definitely come in handy to know them... and then I only have to resort to the international language of hand gestures when I 'parle comme une vache espagnole'!

I Heart Cycling

Cycling is the best invention ever.

Effortless exercise. This is mostly thanks to the lack of hills in York. I can cycle at a leisurely pace, without worrying about a shower and a change of clothes.
Free transport to work. No petrol bills. No queues in traffic. First in line at the traffic lights. No parking problems.
Better than caffeine to wake me up in the morning. I no longer need a strong coffee to function when I get to work. My bladder is thanking me.
Guilt-free about skipping the gym again. I'm getting my exercise without the stress and procrastination of a gym visit.
Immediate mood booster. I get a smile on my face simply getting my blood pumping and feeling the wind in my hair.
Get to see the most beautiful parts of town. My current cycle route to work gives me a trip across the river and through a field full of cows (often blocking the path). The landscapes are beautiful and picture perfect, and these car-free zones are 100% fresh air despite being in the middle of town.

Cycling has got its own cult following. I've discovered a few blogs and websites made by and for others who Heart their bikes. I particularly like reading Oil is for Sissies (cycling is part of this guy's general blog) and Mellow Velo, but there are heaps out there, even a Kiwi crusading for more cyclists in Christchurch. The best cycling map site I came across is MapMyRide.com which creates maps that can be seen in Google Maps or Google Earth, it's worldwide, and has plenty of ideas. There's also a fun time-wasting game on the Tredz blog.

There are a few downsides to cycling (combined with no car alternative), but I'll attempt to put them in to positives:
Get wet in the rain. I really must invest in mudguards and wet weather trousers. It makes it fun dodging the puddles and cow pats though!
Food shopping. My nearest decent supermarket is a couple of miles away, and it makes the weekly shop a real chore. At least I'm learning to only buy the essentials, which is doing my bank account a huge favour!
Carrying far too much on my back. I often cycle along with an overloaded laptop bag and a stuffed backpack, and I'm sure it's putting an unhealthy strain on my back. I must invest in a carrier tray.
Ripped trousers. That dodgy bent spoke that's completely ruined one of my three gears has managed to tear holes in four of my favourite trousers. Luckily I've given it a rough fix-it job so it doesn't stick out quite so much, and I've bought a pair of trouser clips and a couple of high-calf boots to tuck my trousers into. Problem solved, 90% of the time.

But, honestly, I love it.

Another Kiwi in Authentic England?

It's been nearly twelve full months since I landed in England on my OE. Unlike most New Zealanders making the big trip abroad to this Kingdom, I'm living outside the Grand Capital. I love London; in fact, I could move there quite happily tomorrow, but my job has kept me in the real, grassroots England. Since being here I've only met a handful of Kiwis outside of London.

I feel like I am seeing the Authentic England. I watch the BBC and the North Yorkshire news, catch the train almost every day and line up to draw cash from the cash machine; I moan about the weather, the transport, the state of the national football team and the weather again just like a true Englishman (Englishwoman? Not quite sure how that noun works...). However, so far I have managed to avoid getting caught up in the pub culture. I still prefer to hang out in my living room rather than substituting it for the local pub.

This English Experience is very much a learning process. Maybe one day I'll come to appreciate their famous Reserve, but it's frustratingly slow. I can meet any number of people from other nationalities, get along like a house on fire, and then when I contact them a week later to see if they want to meet up, they'll be fine with it. It's not so straightforward with the English. It's all a bit Too Friendly to want to catch up again as if we might be 'friends' - these things take time. I'll crack it one day I hope!

Summer time at the seaside

So, I saw all types of England today. I finally made the three-minute trek up the hill to see the castle ruins. It's amazing to think the headland has been occupied since 600 BC, and the castle since the 12th century. I found this neat little area with the remains of an outpost the Romans had built, and it had a grassy trench that provided shelter from the wind. I lay and read a book in the sun and then discovered that underneath was an ancient chapel that went into the hillside. It was so peaceful, all I could hear
was the sea just out of sight down the cliff.

I went across and looked at the panorama of the town from the lookout post. There was a thundercat racing day in the harbour, and the sound reached all the way up to the headland very clearly. The people on the beach looked like little ants dotted on the sand. I walked down the hill past the centuries old cemetery-cum-carpark (the cemetery is old, the carpark is new!) with the headstones all askew and bitten by age and wind, until I reached the main promenade for the bay.

It was the complete opposite of the headland, the footpaths were crowded with people in football shirts and white trainers, soft serve cones in one hand and walking behind granny in her motorised wheelchair laden down with plastic buckets and spades from the pound shop on the waterfront. The bustle still surprises me, because I don't really consider it to be a big town, and because I live here I keep forgetting that it's a holiday destination and these people are mostly weekend tourists.

I queued up for a soft serve cone, and watched Brown Owl sort out the young Brownies into strawberry-flavoured and vanilla-flavoured groups. That's the second group of Brownies I've seen in a fortnight - they are all in uniform colours, bright sunny yellow or soft coffee brown, and clearly a more popular group than back home, although still just as geeky. Then I wandered along the beach past all the flabby shirtless boys, toddlers shovelling sand into buckets, "turn the bucket the other way up, you can fit more sand in," says one cheerful dad to his enterprising son, who has managed to pack a lot of sand into the rim of an upside-down bucket. The pony rides aren't in much demand today, but there are plenty of hired blue and white striped decked chairs for the mums and grans.

At the other end of the beach, further away from the fish and chip shops and the man calling out the bingo numbers from inside one of the penny arcades across the road, the thundercat and jetski racers have claimed the beach and are milling about waiting for the last race of the afternoon. The wind was too breezy for me so I kept walking, enjoying the being barefoot in the sand.