Except, maybe we are.
Standing on a hill with no protection from driving wind as we did a committal, I couldn't help but think of the Great Plains in winter with frigid blowing air. At least it got my mind off of the fact that I couldn't feel my toes anymore. Later, it started to hail. Peering out of my window at the grey sky, I wondered if maybe I had somehow been transported back to Kansas. Was the sky looking a little bit greener? Was that a tornado coming my way through the downpour? Oh, no. Just a very large, white truck on a very small street...
In the car on the way to the gravesite earlier in the day, I was talking with our head pastor and a retired pastor who is one of our members. In N.Ireland, one contended, graveyards seem always to be built on the coldest, most windswept hills around. Yes, the other agreed, because those were the only bits of land the farmers were willing to sell.
Maybe. I'm just glad I can feel my toes again. I think I need boots.
Friday, 26 November 2010
Friday, 19 November 2010
A Few Comments on Holidays and the United States
Right, so I guess I've gotten a little lax on the blogging. My apologies; life has been busy! I'll at least try for once a month.
Last night at choir rehearsal I was immediately transported back to 9th grade choir. We've just gotten our music for the Carols by Candlelight service and, flipping through the music, one caught my eye right away. On the cover was a distinctive cartoon drawing of a little shepherd boy staring up at a starry night sky. It grabbed my attention because I'd seen it before--in my first two years of high school, our choir director used to take us caroling to nursing homes in December. This song (an arrangement of "do you hear what I hear") was one of my favorites. Seeing it brought back thoughts of home; not just home as in the place where I currently reside, but the memories of childhood in Philadelphia before the realities of the brokenness of life really set in. I think, for me, this is what's really at the heart of homesickness; I don't yearn to be back at a specific address, but rather in a specific web of relationships and circumstances that I often idealize anyway. And I suppose that part of the loss that I feel has more to do with the recognition that, being away, life is still moving forward--friends and family are changing, I'm changing--and even when I return it won't be exactly the same as when I left.
When we actually started to work on the song, I realized right away that it was different. Oh, only slightly, but noticeable. Two part harmony instead of three. A slightly different line. The same was true of 'Joy to the World'. Almost the same, but a couple of words altered, the alto part not quite the one that's been ingrained into my head all these years. Just a shade off, but sometimes in makes all the difference.
Speaking of holidays, Halloween was a completely different experience here than in the US. Which is to say, it was a non-event. I didn't see any trick-or-treaters. Though I actually did go out with two of my students (we were the only ones). Most people didn't answer their doors. When they did, we actually had to do a 'trick' to get a 'treat'. And often it was a few pence as opposed to candy. How very different. Talking to some of our congregants about it, they mentioned that it was starting to become more commercialized here. And then, quite seriously, they blamed it on the US's influence. I laughed a little. True, quite possibly, but it wasn't something I'd ever really considered before.
Perhaps I should have. See, in the past weeks, I've heard those words a lot more. Whether it's in relation to finance or consumer attitudes, a lot of the trends here are attributed to the influence that the States have on the rest of the world. One person pointed out that it makes sense because the US is so big. Yes, I suppose so. But this is one aspect of how the world (or at least the UK) perceives the United States that I haven't really encountered before. Oh, I've heard some pretty nasty things said (and I don't mean here, but in traveling in general), experienced incredible hostility and been the brunt of "stupid American" jokes, but I have to say the "bad influence" aspect is new for me. And intriguing. Because there's a lot of subtext in a statement like that, whether or not it's intended.
I suppose I will end with Remembrance Day (this would be Veterans' Day in the US). I don't feel like I can leave it untouched, but it's hard to know what to say. The Sunday closest to the 11th is Remembrance Sunday, when services are held. And ours was incredibly moving. In a world where there is so much divisiveness, the pain of war is universal, transcending culture, class and creed.
Poppies, bugles, silence, the national anthem...I could describe all of these things, but in the end I rest on the irony of the thought that the very agony in which we are united is born of the fighting that arises because we are different.
Last night at choir rehearsal I was immediately transported back to 9th grade choir. We've just gotten our music for the Carols by Candlelight service and, flipping through the music, one caught my eye right away. On the cover was a distinctive cartoon drawing of a little shepherd boy staring up at a starry night sky. It grabbed my attention because I'd seen it before--in my first two years of high school, our choir director used to take us caroling to nursing homes in December. This song (an arrangement of "do you hear what I hear") was one of my favorites. Seeing it brought back thoughts of home; not just home as in the place where I currently reside, but the memories of childhood in Philadelphia before the realities of the brokenness of life really set in. I think, for me, this is what's really at the heart of homesickness; I don't yearn to be back at a specific address, but rather in a specific web of relationships and circumstances that I often idealize anyway. And I suppose that part of the loss that I feel has more to do with the recognition that, being away, life is still moving forward--friends and family are changing, I'm changing--and even when I return it won't be exactly the same as when I left.
When we actually started to work on the song, I realized right away that it was different. Oh, only slightly, but noticeable. Two part harmony instead of three. A slightly different line. The same was true of 'Joy to the World'. Almost the same, but a couple of words altered, the alto part not quite the one that's been ingrained into my head all these years. Just a shade off, but sometimes in makes all the difference.
Speaking of holidays, Halloween was a completely different experience here than in the US. Which is to say, it was a non-event. I didn't see any trick-or-treaters. Though I actually did go out with two of my students (we were the only ones). Most people didn't answer their doors. When they did, we actually had to do a 'trick' to get a 'treat'. And often it was a few pence as opposed to candy. How very different. Talking to some of our congregants about it, they mentioned that it was starting to become more commercialized here. And then, quite seriously, they blamed it on the US's influence. I laughed a little. True, quite possibly, but it wasn't something I'd ever really considered before.
Perhaps I should have. See, in the past weeks, I've heard those words a lot more. Whether it's in relation to finance or consumer attitudes, a lot of the trends here are attributed to the influence that the States have on the rest of the world. One person pointed out that it makes sense because the US is so big. Yes, I suppose so. But this is one aspect of how the world (or at least the UK) perceives the United States that I haven't really encountered before. Oh, I've heard some pretty nasty things said (and I don't mean here, but in traveling in general), experienced incredible hostility and been the brunt of "stupid American" jokes, but I have to say the "bad influence" aspect is new for me. And intriguing. Because there's a lot of subtext in a statement like that, whether or not it's intended.
I suppose I will end with Remembrance Day (this would be Veterans' Day in the US). I don't feel like I can leave it untouched, but it's hard to know what to say. The Sunday closest to the 11th is Remembrance Sunday, when services are held. And ours was incredibly moving. In a world where there is so much divisiveness, the pain of war is universal, transcending culture, class and creed.
Poppies, bugles, silence, the national anthem...I could describe all of these things, but in the end I rest on the irony of the thought that the very agony in which we are united is born of the fighting that arises because we are different.
Tuesday, 12 October 2010
Me? Procrastinating? Never.
That's right. I'm actually procrastinating (though for all of you connoisseurs of the sport, I suppose you would laugh in my face as I'm putting off something that doesn't need to be finished until Sunday and I'm more than halfway finished with it...) and instead of working, I'm updating my blog. Never mind that I have new pictures I want to show off; that's just a side benefit.
So several random things...
1. Mr. Wolf came back with a couple of his friends. I'm all for house guests, but this is unacceptable. My humble plea to the furry guests: just don't make me squish you!
2. I found an instrument lying around my house that looks something like a piccolo. However, it has six holes that you cover with your fingers and only five additional keys. I'm trying to teach myself to play it, with (Chris's help over Skype), but it's rather a difficult endeavor. In the end, Chris told me I was blowing too hard. Who knew you could do such a thing?
3. Flipping through a different denomination's hymnal with some people from my church, we were pointing out songs that we know. They all knew a smattering, I knew almost none. And then I happened upon "Joy to the World" and said, triumphantly, "well, I know that one," expecting everyone else to say, "well, of course." Instead, the person next to me looked at me thoughtfully and said that, no, she didn't think she knew that one. Here's a song I thought the whole world must know--after all, at Christmas in America it's almost cultural, piped through muzak players in malls and shopping centers across the country in order to get you in the spirit so that you'll buy more. While certain Christmas items have started to crop up here, like so many odd weeds in a field of wheat, the music has not changed and there is no indication of whether or not I will ultimately be inundated to the point of overload with much-loved carols. And I suppose it's only then that I'll learn whether the song really isn't common at all, or simply isn't common in this community.
4. This past weekend we celebrated harvest. It was an incredible experience--the church giving thanks for the bounty that the earth yielded. The whole sanctuary was decorated with flowers and fruits and vegetables--in windows, in the narthex, filling the baptismal font and communion tables. Some of the hymns are the same or similar to those that we'd celebrate at Thanksgiving (which I have to admit, I will dearly miss this year). It was a wonderful service, and I'm told that in the country it rivals (or, at least, rivaled) Christmas and Easter in terms of importance.
5. Went to Cairn Woods. It was like stepping into a fairy tale. Some things you just have to see. I've tried to capture it's beauty in pictures, but I only succeeded to an extent. I hope you enjoy them.
6. Today, preparing dinner, I made one of the biggest messes cooking that I've made in a long time. And I was just frying eggs. They exploded. I usually think of myself as a semi-decent cook, how did this happen to me? Needless to say, it was raining eggs and I cleaned bits of egg and grease off of the floor, cupboard, microwave...And I'll probably find more tomorrow. You know what, though? They were good eggs. It was totally worth it.
And I think that's all for now. Pictures of the church decorated for Harvest and Cairn Woods.
So several random things...
1. Mr. Wolf came back with a couple of his friends. I'm all for house guests, but this is unacceptable. My humble plea to the furry guests: just don't make me squish you!
2. I found an instrument lying around my house that looks something like a piccolo. However, it has six holes that you cover with your fingers and only five additional keys. I'm trying to teach myself to play it, with (Chris's help over Skype), but it's rather a difficult endeavor. In the end, Chris told me I was blowing too hard. Who knew you could do such a thing?
3. Flipping through a different denomination's hymnal with some people from my church, we were pointing out songs that we know. They all knew a smattering, I knew almost none. And then I happened upon "Joy to the World" and said, triumphantly, "well, I know that one," expecting everyone else to say, "well, of course." Instead, the person next to me looked at me thoughtfully and said that, no, she didn't think she knew that one. Here's a song I thought the whole world must know--after all, at Christmas in America it's almost cultural, piped through muzak players in malls and shopping centers across the country in order to get you in the spirit so that you'll buy more. While certain Christmas items have started to crop up here, like so many odd weeds in a field of wheat, the music has not changed and there is no indication of whether or not I will ultimately be inundated to the point of overload with much-loved carols. And I suppose it's only then that I'll learn whether the song really isn't common at all, or simply isn't common in this community.
4. This past weekend we celebrated harvest. It was an incredible experience--the church giving thanks for the bounty that the earth yielded. The whole sanctuary was decorated with flowers and fruits and vegetables--in windows, in the narthex, filling the baptismal font and communion tables. Some of the hymns are the same or similar to those that we'd celebrate at Thanksgiving (which I have to admit, I will dearly miss this year). It was a wonderful service, and I'm told that in the country it rivals (or, at least, rivaled) Christmas and Easter in terms of importance.
5. Went to Cairn Woods. It was like stepping into a fairy tale. Some things you just have to see. I've tried to capture it's beauty in pictures, but I only succeeded to an extent. I hope you enjoy them.
6. Today, preparing dinner, I made one of the biggest messes cooking that I've made in a long time. And I was just frying eggs. They exploded. I usually think of myself as a semi-decent cook, how did this happen to me? Needless to say, it was raining eggs and I cleaned bits of egg and grease off of the floor, cupboard, microwave...And I'll probably find more tomorrow. You know what, though? They were good eggs. It was totally worth it.
And I think that's all for now. Pictures of the church decorated for Harvest and Cairn Woods.
Saturday, 2 October 2010
Meeting Mr. Wolf
I know, I know, it's been a long time. Life's been busy--sorry!
A couple of things...
The week before last, I participated in the funeral of someone whom I had visited. It was a beautiful service, but what struck me most of all was what happened afterwards. When I was much younger, I remember picking up a Time magazine that was talking about The Troubles. There was a picture in it of a funeral and I can still see the the coffin being born along on the shoulders of six men through the street of whatever town it was. I remember, even then, being moved by the scene. At this funeral there was a remarkably similar scene. Now, I'm used to pall bearers standing on the sides of the coffin, holding it by handles (?)...but here, six of the men from the family rested the coffin on their shoulders and grasped the man standing next to them almost in a one armed hug. And slowly, they made their way out of the church and onto the main street through the town toward the cemetery, the rest of the mourners trailing behind in a slow procession. It was a tremendous show of solidarity, of love and mutual support in the face of death. The family coming together, bearing the deceased and holding one another all at the same time. In its own way, it was beautiful, and I do not think that I will ever forget it.
Another little bit of reflection...I've been here almost six weeks and though I haven't gotten homesick as such, there is a slight element of loneliness that has given me great cause to think. While I have made friends here--and, indeed, there are many people with whom I enjoy spending time--there is no one here who really knows me. Sure, people know my name and who I am and where I'm from, but they do not know my story. They do not know the history that has brought me to this point and shaped who I am, as many of you do. I suppose being known in that particular way is something that I've taken for granted. Incidentally, the realization itself has given me some additional insight into pastoral care. On a number of occasions (not just here, but in CPE and in other contexts as well) I've had people, in the middle of sharing a particularly painful or personal story, interrupt themselves to say, "I don't know why I'm telling you this, but..." I've never had a particularly good response to that. But I wonder, now, if part of the reason we so desire to tell someone those stories is actually because we desire to be known by someone and more than that, accepted in spite of what we've been through. It is a powerful thing, to tell your story and have it heard without judgment. It allows us, I think, to be more fully who we are; it frees us from wondering what will happen when people find out...
On a more lighthearted note...meeting Mr. Wolf...
It is growing dark here. When I wake up in the morning at 6, sunrise is yet an hour and a half away. So even by the time I come back from running, there is only the faintest hint of the dawn to come on the horizon. Earlier this week, standing with the light on in the far end of the kitchen (over the table, not near the cabinets) I opened the cupboard to get my cereal. Something very large and very leggy and very close to my head scurried away from me. I jumped, yes I did. Turning on the other light, the better to see into the cabinet, I discovered that it was a giant spider. Yes, giant. And hairy. And mostly legs, but that really didn't matter because it's mandibles were right in my face. Even with my biggest glass, I almost took a leg off. There was no hesitation. It had to go out. Never mind that it was pouring down rain. Heartlessly, I heaved it out the door. Of course, I took pictures for your benefit. And in retrospect I've decided to name him Mr. Wolf. Because it reminded me of a wolf spider, even though it wasn't one.
And that's most of my news for now...
Walking...but in the sunshine!
A couple of things...
The week before last, I participated in the funeral of someone whom I had visited. It was a beautiful service, but what struck me most of all was what happened afterwards. When I was much younger, I remember picking up a Time magazine that was talking about The Troubles. There was a picture in it of a funeral and I can still see the the coffin being born along on the shoulders of six men through the street of whatever town it was. I remember, even then, being moved by the scene. At this funeral there was a remarkably similar scene. Now, I'm used to pall bearers standing on the sides of the coffin, holding it by handles (?)...but here, six of the men from the family rested the coffin on their shoulders and grasped the man standing next to them almost in a one armed hug. And slowly, they made their way out of the church and onto the main street through the town toward the cemetery, the rest of the mourners trailing behind in a slow procession. It was a tremendous show of solidarity, of love and mutual support in the face of death. The family coming together, bearing the deceased and holding one another all at the same time. In its own way, it was beautiful, and I do not think that I will ever forget it.
 |
| My wee car and a rainbow :) |
On a more lighthearted note...meeting Mr. Wolf...
 |
| The enormous Mr. Wolf |
And that's most of my news for now...
Walking...but in the sunshine!
Monday, 13 September 2010
There are no squirrels here...
Wandering around the village and beyond over the past almost three weeks (yikes, has it already been that long?!), I've come to realize that some animals to which I've grown quite accustomed are missing. First, there was the near deafening silence that came with the lack of cicadas. Over the summer, I had grown so used to hearing their song rising and falling like waves crashing gently against a sandy beach that their absence upon my arrival was close to jarring. But as the days wore on, I noticed a distinct lack of other more furry critters as well. Namely, squirrels and rabbits. Maybe it's just because Kansas has such an abundance of them (though perhaps the new resident coyote has taken care of that to some degree) that it seems so strikingly odd to me. Or maybe it's because I can drive down a street and not worry that I'm going to hit one of the less-than-brilliant little balls of fur. Or perhaps it's because I just picture there being rabbits at the very least in Ireland. Whatever the reason, it is singularly peculiar to me that there are no squirrels here...
Tarrying for just a bit longer in the realm of things missing (yesterday's sermon was on things lost, so I suppose it's fitting), it is remarkable to me the things that cause you to miss home--not as in "homesick" but rather just a momentary pang of realizing that you are very far away from the life that you're used to and the people who truly know you. Walking through the grocery store, I needed only a few things. American and shredded cheeses were on the list. Perusing the cheese aisle, I was momentarily distressed when I couldn't find anything labeled "american cheese". I'm just so comfortable with the friendly blue wrapper of Kraft singles (no matter what your opinion of them might be) that it was disappointing to search and search and think for a moment that no such product was available. A similar story with the shredded cheese--I've just become so accustomed to walking into the diary aisle and having a million shredded options that it was startling to not see it right away. Of course, in the end I found them both. And it is, ultimately, a trivial thing. But for a minute, I just missed familiar. Sometimes, it's the little things that really matter. Sometimes, it's the little things that remind you that no matter how similar a place might be to home, it isn't in the end.
This is not to give anyone the impression that I'm not having a grand time. I am! And to prove it I have more pictures :)
Just for the record, it was a very windy day. Some of the pics are blurry because I was being buffeted so badly that I couldn't keep still. No joke. I might have been blown away.
Rainy Day + some others
Tarrying for just a bit longer in the realm of things missing (yesterday's sermon was on things lost, so I suppose it's fitting), it is remarkable to me the things that cause you to miss home--not as in "homesick" but rather just a momentary pang of realizing that you are very far away from the life that you're used to and the people who truly know you. Walking through the grocery store, I needed only a few things. American and shredded cheeses were on the list. Perusing the cheese aisle, I was momentarily distressed when I couldn't find anything labeled "american cheese". I'm just so comfortable with the friendly blue wrapper of Kraft singles (no matter what your opinion of them might be) that it was disappointing to search and search and think for a moment that no such product was available. A similar story with the shredded cheese--I've just become so accustomed to walking into the diary aisle and having a million shredded options that it was startling to not see it right away. Of course, in the end I found them both. And it is, ultimately, a trivial thing. But for a minute, I just missed familiar. Sometimes, it's the little things that really matter. Sometimes, it's the little things that remind you that no matter how similar a place might be to home, it isn't in the end.
This is not to give anyone the impression that I'm not having a grand time. I am! And to prove it I have more pictures :)
Just for the record, it was a very windy day. Some of the pics are blurry because I was being buffeted so badly that I couldn't keep still. No joke. I might have been blown away.
Rainy Day + some others
Wednesday, 1 September 2010
Velvet and Republicans...
When I awoke this morning, Groomsport had been swallowed by a bank of dense fog. Running along the Donaghadee road toward the roundabout, the fields to my right and left disappeared into billowing white. And it wasn't long before, coming over the crest of a hill, the road in front of me did as well. Now don't get me wrong, I've seen fog like this before--but there was something that gave me pause at that moment. In the half-light of early morning, this road that I'd traversed many times over the past week, drifting off into an impenetrable mystery--there was something ominous about it, almost dangerous. Who could tell what the ethereal mists hid? Somehow the sight invited one to believe that perhaps, behind that curtain, the world really had changed, the road had shifted or fallen away altogether and nothing would be the same.
Of course, I kept running and the veil of silver gossamer kept drawing just beyond my reach, revealing more and more of a familiar world, unchanged, just as it had been the night before.
Jogging to the beach, the mist spit in my face leaving me dripping. At the water's edge the fog in a curtain fell and the rest of the Irish Sea might have dropped off into eternity for all I knew. Standing there it was just me and the gulls, crows and odd tern. Waves brushed the shore with gentle fingers and the birds called. It brought to mind the CBS Sunday morning nature segments that I've been seeing all of my life. The sounds especially. But the sights too. Volcanic rock pushing out of the sand like the ridged backs of dragons. Moss, seaweed and a shelly beach. Not yet awake, the village fading away into oblivious white.
Of course, none of this has to do with velvet or Republicans. Rewind to yesterday. It's my first day shadowing the pastor and one of our first tasks is to find robes from their stash that fit. Low and behold a particularly nice garment of pleated and flowing black is just my size, but as I began to button it I couldn't help but suck my teeth. See, running up the front around the neck and back down the front on the other side of the opening, there was a wide stripe of velvet. Mayday. I can't touch velvet without my teeth hurting...in fact, it hurts me just to write this. No joke. I tried to hold it in, but no luck. And I tried to say it was fine, but they didn't believe me (of course, I couldn't speak well by this point, so I guess it was obvious). And, just like my family who re-discovered this quirk of mine, the secretary and pastor thought it was hilarious--something that will be held over my head in a loving sort of way, no doubt. In any event, unlike my family, they actually thought they'd heard of it before, so they googled "phobia of velvet". Turns out there's a name for people like me: haptodysphoria. It's the extreme dislike of touching certain soft things...like velvet, raw cotton and peach fuzz (of those, peach fuzz is the only one I don't dislike). We took the robe to one of our members who is an excellent taylor. No more velvet for me! Yes. You can laugh now.
Which only leaves me with Republicans. This is another learning point for me. Because in conversation the term came up (and then came up again with the pastor) and immediately I went to American politics and just as immediately realized that that wasn't going to be right in this situation. So I asked. Quite like the name suggests, Republicans (as I understand it) are those who still wish N. Ireland to be a part of the Republic of Ireland as opposed to unionists (with a little 'u'), who prefer to stay with the United Kingdom. I'm told that, yes, there is somewhat firm correlation between the political designations and religion, but that it would not be wise to assume that all Protestants are unionists and all Catholics are Republicans, as they are not. It is an interesting cultural-political situation and one that I hope to be able to learn more about while I'm here. It's also a good reminder of the way that the meaning of words and labels change with different cultural contexts. I take it for granted and I shouldn't.
New pics: the Antrim Coast
Peace!
Of course, I kept running and the veil of silver gossamer kept drawing just beyond my reach, revealing more and more of a familiar world, unchanged, just as it had been the night before.
Jogging to the beach, the mist spit in my face leaving me dripping. At the water's edge the fog in a curtain fell and the rest of the Irish Sea might have dropped off into eternity for all I knew. Standing there it was just me and the gulls, crows and odd tern. Waves brushed the shore with gentle fingers and the birds called. It brought to mind the CBS Sunday morning nature segments that I've been seeing all of my life. The sounds especially. But the sights too. Volcanic rock pushing out of the sand like the ridged backs of dragons. Moss, seaweed and a shelly beach. Not yet awake, the village fading away into oblivious white.
Of course, none of this has to do with velvet or Republicans. Rewind to yesterday. It's my first day shadowing the pastor and one of our first tasks is to find robes from their stash that fit. Low and behold a particularly nice garment of pleated and flowing black is just my size, but as I began to button it I couldn't help but suck my teeth. See, running up the front around the neck and back down the front on the other side of the opening, there was a wide stripe of velvet. Mayday. I can't touch velvet without my teeth hurting...in fact, it hurts me just to write this. No joke. I tried to hold it in, but no luck. And I tried to say it was fine, but they didn't believe me (of course, I couldn't speak well by this point, so I guess it was obvious). And, just like my family who re-discovered this quirk of mine, the secretary and pastor thought it was hilarious--something that will be held over my head in a loving sort of way, no doubt. In any event, unlike my family, they actually thought they'd heard of it before, so they googled "phobia of velvet". Turns out there's a name for people like me: haptodysphoria. It's the extreme dislike of touching certain soft things...like velvet, raw cotton and peach fuzz (of those, peach fuzz is the only one I don't dislike). We took the robe to one of our members who is an excellent taylor. No more velvet for me! Yes. You can laugh now.
Which only leaves me with Republicans. This is another learning point for me. Because in conversation the term came up (and then came up again with the pastor) and immediately I went to American politics and just as immediately realized that that wasn't going to be right in this situation. So I asked. Quite like the name suggests, Republicans (as I understand it) are those who still wish N. Ireland to be a part of the Republic of Ireland as opposed to unionists (with a little 'u'), who prefer to stay with the United Kingdom. I'm told that, yes, there is somewhat firm correlation between the political designations and religion, but that it would not be wise to assume that all Protestants are unionists and all Catholics are Republicans, as they are not. It is an interesting cultural-political situation and one that I hope to be able to learn more about while I'm here. It's also a good reminder of the way that the meaning of words and labels change with different cultural contexts. I take it for granted and I shouldn't.
New pics: the Antrim Coast
Peace!
Saturday, 28 August 2010
Energy Conservation...
Here in my little (semi) detached terrace (as my home is called, if I'm not mistaken) there are a couple of utilities that I have to pay. Namely, electricity and heat. Water, apparently, is included in the property tax in N.I. (at least for now...apparently that might change). Like any house in the states, I have a water heater, but unlike most houses in the states, I have to turn it on when I want hot water. Now I was told that it's a real electricity guzzler so I should use it sparingly and turn it off when I'm finished. They recommended I turn it on about 30 minutes before a shower. Today I was running short on time and hey, it would conserve energy anyway, so I tried 15.
15 minutes is not enough.
And cold showers are unpleasant.
15 minutes is not enough.
And cold showers are unpleasant.
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