Writing a dissertation…

…is incredibly stressful.

I thought that the hardest part would be the actual writing bit. But I adjusted to that fairly well. I woke up every morning at 8am (not willingly, but because construction begins at 8am sharp right outside my front door), had two to three cups of coffee while I watched some tv show or another to wake up, then sat at my computer from about 9:30am until 5pm, almost everyday. And I wrote. Lots. And most of it was even decent.

On Monday I finally finished the actual writing bit, and that’s when I started to get stressed.

Why? Because I have a million little nit-picky things to do to the dissertation, in terms of editing, formatting, etc. And they all take a lot more time than they should. And to make matters worse, I took on the task of typing someone else’s dissertation for some extra cash. I finished typing it weeks ago, but he wants me to do the nit-picky things on his as well.

This afternoon I spent over 45 minutes trying to get a picture into a Word document. No matter what I did, the picture would not go anywhere but at the top of the page. In the end I had to get Kaitlyn, my Amazonian Webmistress, to fix it for me. Thank God. Because by that point I had thrown things around my apartment and slammed every door I could think of while swearing like a sailor at the construction workers outside (who couldn’t hear me, I promise… not so sure about my neighbours though…)

So, I guess writing a dissertation isn’t as stressful as polishing one up.

I should be all done next week. I hope. And then I promise I will come back from the blogcation of the last month or so.

Birthday montage

This is the part of the movie where a slow song plays and scenes from the last year of my life fade into each other.

It starts with a month of goodbyes and a plane, lifting off and crossing an ocean. Dissolve to sleepless nights, hurried words and uncertainty. Pan left to the silence of 2am. Star wipe to a few Christmas scenes.

As the tempo picks up, there’s the Colosseum, the Pyramids and some monkeys. Spliced between are books and faces. Cue the Eiffel Tower and sunsets. Fade into sun reflecting off an ocean and then bearing down on the Acropolis. Cut to Scottish hills and the North Sea. Dissolve to extreme close up of a Greek pot and a computer screen. Intersperse people, here and left behind. Fade to black.

So, it’s my birthday. Number 23. And it’s been a hell of a year. I’ve been looking at photos of people and places and I know that there’s no going back. Even if I am, technically, going back. It’s all different. Everything’s changed. And isn’t that the most you could ask for in a year of your life?

This is the song I would put behind this year’s montage:

I’ll be talking about this year for at least a decade. Remember that time I got stuck in Pompeii? Well, when I was in Greece…. You know, in Egypt... Oh, yeah, I got that in Paris.

Dear 23,

You’re going to have to try really hard if you want to contend with 22.

Love,

Hez

Wall walking

I’m still a ways behind on the day trips of the last month or so.

When Jes and Tariq came to visit, they decided they wanted to see Hadrian’s Wall. They wanted to see Vindolanda, where I did my excavation in April and some other wallish things.

You can get to all the forts and landmarks on the wall on a bus from Newcastle, the AD122. But it only leaves once a day, at 9am. I wasn’t sure we’d be able to catch it on time, but with lots of coffee and a little luck, we boarded the bus and drove along the wall (literally, the road sometimes follows on top of the wall).

We started out at Vindolanda, where I gave them a tour from what I remembered of my orientation, told them what I’d found and showed them where I’d dug.

The original plan was to take the bus to Housesteads Roman Fort and look around. Housesteads is usually used as an example of the typical Roman fort plan and I hadn’t been yet.

We were waiting for the bus in front of Vindolanda. It was cold and windy and we were bored.

So we decided to walk to Housesteads instead.

I’m still not sure how far it was, but it wasn’t an easy walk by any means (though we were definitely the youngest and the most exhausted of the wall walkers that day - clearly the old people were in better shape!)

But it was beautiful.

It looks nice until you realize that once you get to the top you have to go down again. And then up again. For at least 3 miles.

And sometimes the path would go over an old farmer’s wall and you have to climb over it on an Official Hadrian’s Wall Path Ladder (UNESCO approved!)

But the views from the top are spectacular. I think you can see Scotland back there. That’s Jes and Tariq, being cute.

This was my second favourite view.

The Romans had a Milecastle on every Roman mile of the wall. This is Milecastle 39, one of the best preserved on the wall.

Recognize this? This was my favourite part of the walk. This is none other than the iconic tree from the beginning of the Robin Hood movie with Kevin Costner. It’s somewhere between Once Brewed and Housesteads. Isn’t it a great tree?!

So we had to take a self portrait, obviously. My hair was escaping from its braids by this point. It was so windy!

All in all, it was a great day adventure and a good workout. My legs really hurt the next day.

Canada Day

Today is the 143rd birthday of my very young country. Big and beautiful, for sure, but young.

The more I travel, the more proud I am to be Canadian. I love Canada. I love what it means to be Canadian. I love that most people love Canadians.

And I know that Canada is home.

Other countries may be older, more historically interesting and even more beautiful.

But Canada is a country that I am proud to call home, even from across an ocean.

HAPPY CANADA DAY!!!!!!!

A weekend in the Highlands

My last few posts have been sadly without photos. So, I decided that it was about time to post something more visual!

The first time I went to Scotland was three years ago, when I was living in Ireland. My friend Alaina and I went to Edinburgh for the weekend, and managed to squeeze in a Highlands tour while we were at it.

I adored Scotland, from the first. It’s just a beautiful place. Scottish people are so nice, even if they’re difficult to understand sometimes. The Highlands are breathtaking. I’d really like to run away from life someday and rent a cottage in the Highlands and write my first novel. Though maybe it will have to be my second novel, so that I can afford it.

Technically, my heritage can be traced back to Scotland. My name’s quite Scottish. And they love the heather flower there. So, you know, if you believe any of that stuff about having a subconscious cultural connection, then I could have one to Scotland.

Of course, my grandmother was from Newcastle and I definitely don’t feel a connection to it.

Anyway. So, my friends Jes and Tariq came to visit me a couple of weeks ago. I’ve known Jes since I was about five, and Tariq’s her boyfriend of five years, who I’ve become friends with too, over the years.

We decided to head up to Inverness for the first weekend they were here. Actually, I sort of decided. I told them I’d always wanted to go and we should. Luckily they agreed, and ended up loving it as much as I did!

That’s the city of Inverness, on the river Ness.

There are some beautiful walks you can do from the city centre, along the river. This one takes you by two little islands in the river.

This walk went along the Caledonian Canal and out to where the Ness meets the sea. Sometimes you can see dolphins, according to the owner of our B&B. We didn’t have that much luck though.

And, of course, Inverness is right next to the famous Loch Ness. So we took a little boat tour and looked for Nessie. No such luck, unfortunately.

But the tour finished up at Urquhart Castle, which I’ve always wanted to visit.

Even though we were technically in the Highlands, most of what we saw of the quintessential hills was from the window of our train. But for good measure, I’ll throw in a photo I took the first time I visited: