Scotland - in miniature: The Isle of Arran.
About two weekends ago now, I decided to grab a daypack and set out to enjoy the rare, beautiful, sunny weekend and do a little hiking on the Isle of Arran, about two hours away from Glasgow. I had great ambitions to conquer at least half of the island, but, given that I had decided to do most of this on foot, I quickly learned that my ambitions were a little too grand for one day's worth of hiking (and the comfort limitations of my shoes).
The ferry from the mainland landed at Brodrick, which has some nice little cafes and a great outdoor and recreational store for those of us who forgot to pack essentials such as gloves and a knit hat. The weather was quite cold on the island in the morning, but it soon warmed up as the day progressed.
I made my way on a less popular path (all of the crazy hikers tend to head to the large hills on the island) that took me past a farm with horses, through the farm and grazing land, then into a dark and chilly pine forest. In Scotland, you are permitted to travel afoot on most land, including private, as long as you are respectful and tread lightly and leave no trace behind (litter). The pine trees were very tall and thin, but they grow so close together that peering through them you mostly see only darkness...it was a little strange because you imagine that there are things within the shadows of that cool, creepy forest that can see you walking along the path, but you can't see them. Honestly, though, Scotland doesn't have any predator-like creatures to concern yourself with, thanks to over-hunting.
Leaving the pine forest, I began to ascend through the hills toward Clauchland Point, taking in magnificent views of the bay going in to Brodrick (see pictures). I'm not sure if it was a product of the immense logging that was being conducted along the mapped trail, but I lost my hiking path on the way to the summit, so once I reached the high point which was not the summit I was intending, my only choice was to make my own trail down toward the shoreline where I would either pick up my path again or run into the town of Lamlash. I found myself wandering down a steep hill covered in creepy pine forests, but eventually, after about 30 minutes of what seemed like aimless wandering, I stumbled upon the trail. Finally, I broke out of the forest at the point (on which there were some interesting people chanting/singing - not quite sure), and then decided to make my way down through pastures toward the town of Lamlash. At this point, I had been hiking for about four hours, and my feet were beginning to ache a bit. My reward in town was a warm latte and a relaxing sit on the shore looking out toward Holy Island with all of the sailboats skimming the waters of the bay.
After 7km of hiking, I decided the best way to spend the last few hours I had left before the ferry departed for the evening was to relax on the sandy beach back near Brodrick. Few people were out and about - perhaps because it was a bit cold as the sun was going down - so the beach was peaceful, with only the sound of the waves lapping the shore and dogs playing in the far distance. Gulls were scouting the waters just off shore, and from time to time, one would apparently spot its prey and make a nose-dive into the ocean. The castle was just off in the distance - I could see it from the beach - but I decided that, like so much unexplored wonders of the Isle, I would save it for another longer trip.
For all pictures, click here.
Monday, 11 October 2010
Wednesday, 6 October 2010
School - that other reason why I moved to Europe
I just wanted to throw a quick picture of my academic life out here on the blog since it is the reason that I am here in Glasgow - my progress through studies in the hope of obtaining a master's in education (everyone knew that little bit, right?). Scheduling is a wee bit different here - I only regularly attend classes this semester on Monday and Thursday afternoons/evenings at two hours each. Yep, that's only 4 hours in class each week, folks. One might think, "sweet!", but that load of free time that I have been "enjoying" since my arrival had become quite burdensome quite quickly for someone who has a need to be "doin' stuff" to feel like a productive human being.
With that being said, my prayers for more to occupy my time were over-answered with an intensive one-week "elective" course on inclusion in education. Sounds riveting, no? Actually, it really is - I've very much enjoyed the discourse that has taken place in this class thus far and the individuals whom I have met - they are anyone (though mostly of the female variety) from special education and mainstream Scottish teachers to graduate students from Kenya, Ghana, China and, of course, the US. We all have very diverse backgrounds in the realm of education, too, so there has been a lot of insight, exploration and graduate level thinking and discussions going on from both the practitioner and researcher perspectives. Again, very riveting, if you are a dork like me :) Sadly it all ends on Friday, and then I have to pump out a 4,000 word analytical paper in a month for this class alone. I think I will go with policies and practices of inclusion - past and present - for students with ADHD/ADD for £800, Alex.
(You did get that jeopardy reference, right? Sometimes I fear things get lost in translation after I've been here for so long speaking this strange foreign language in this strange foreign culture....).
My regular or "core" classes are quite different from the above described class and each other. One is an introduction to research methods (snoozer in content, but the profs are engaging). For this class, I have to churn out three smaller written assignments, I believe, and do a presentation. It's all for the sake of making the student start to think about, if not do parts of, the dissertation (what we call a thesis in the States - don't freak out and think I'm doing any PhD level stuff yet - one step at a time, people) required for this degree within a year's time. My other core class is a seminar class - again, to be used as part of our dissertation work, if we so choose (and frankly, who wouldn't?). We each have to do individual research (i.e. lots of reading) on a specific topic of our choice and give a 15 minute presentation of six bold statements about the topic followed by 30 minutes of discussion as a class. Mine is November 18th. On the days that I'm not presenting, I'm required to be engaged in observation and discussion as part of others' presentations. Then - oh yes they did! - I have to write a 2500 word literature review - every graduate students' favourite part (insert lots of sarcasm). Oh well, at least that part of my dissertation will already be done by Christmas, I suppose....
With that being said, my prayers for more to occupy my time were over-answered with an intensive one-week "elective" course on inclusion in education. Sounds riveting, no? Actually, it really is - I've very much enjoyed the discourse that has taken place in this class thus far and the individuals whom I have met - they are anyone (though mostly of the female variety) from special education and mainstream Scottish teachers to graduate students from Kenya, Ghana, China and, of course, the US. We all have very diverse backgrounds in the realm of education, too, so there has been a lot of insight, exploration and graduate level thinking and discussions going on from both the practitioner and researcher perspectives. Again, very riveting, if you are a dork like me :) Sadly it all ends on Friday, and then I have to pump out a 4,000 word analytical paper in a month for this class alone. I think I will go with policies and practices of inclusion - past and present - for students with ADHD/ADD for £800, Alex.
(You did get that jeopardy reference, right? Sometimes I fear things get lost in translation after I've been here for so long speaking this strange foreign language in this strange foreign culture....).
My regular or "core" classes are quite different from the above described class and each other. One is an introduction to research methods (snoozer in content, but the profs are engaging). For this class, I have to churn out three smaller written assignments, I believe, and do a presentation. It's all for the sake of making the student start to think about, if not do parts of, the dissertation (what we call a thesis in the States - don't freak out and think I'm doing any PhD level stuff yet - one step at a time, people) required for this degree within a year's time. My other core class is a seminar class - again, to be used as part of our dissertation work, if we so choose (and frankly, who wouldn't?). We each have to do individual research (i.e. lots of reading) on a specific topic of our choice and give a 15 minute presentation of six bold statements about the topic followed by 30 minutes of discussion as a class. Mine is November 18th. On the days that I'm not presenting, I'm required to be engaged in observation and discussion as part of others' presentations. Then - oh yes they did! - I have to write a 2500 word literature review - every graduate students' favourite part (insert lots of sarcasm). Oh well, at least that part of my dissertation will already be done by Christmas, I suppose....
Monday, 4 October 2010
Losing (A Nation's) Religion
An interesting phenomenon is occurring in the United Kingdom (and likely across much of Europe as a whole). Religion is dying, or, more accurately: Christianity is dying.
The most visible sign of this is that many – and I must stress many - buildings which used to be churches and indeed still look like what we typically call a “church” are being converted into buildings used for non-religious functions or being abandoned and left to decay. In fact, I have a class in one such building – stained glasses, steeple and all (though I suppose there probably used to be a cross that stood at the top of the steeple or somewhere on the building). Yes, the pulpit has been turned into a lecturing podium, the pews replaced with students’ desks. When I looked up the location of my classroom building, it said not only to look for the old converted church on the corner of University and Gibson but also not to confuse it with the other converted church that stands on the opposite corner.
Last week the Pope was in Glasgow which, of course, triggered many days of discussion on morning radio talk shows (and I’m sure television as well). BBC Radio 1 had many “experts” from different perspectives come in and speak about the event along with taking calls from listeners. It was very clear, from the data provided by the experts and the phone-ins that the number of Christians in the UK is dwindling at a rapid rate. In fact, it was said repeatedly that about only 47% of the population believe in God - and that is including people of non-Christian faiths. Catholics who called in on the radio were not adamantly defending their faith nor crying out about the declining number of “believers”. Some seemed almost apologetic that they still believed.
Statistics and my personal experience do not give the impression that the UK population, as a whole, is of higher education or greater intellect than the United States, and I point this out because I have heard (and thought myself) of the argument that the more highly educated a population becomes – more knowledgeable of and influenced by scientific fact – the less religion, If not faith in a higher power entirely, plays a role in that population.
I don’t think it is a matter of science, but rather a matter of history, and I ask this:
Does a population get to the point after centuries upon centuries of faith-based conflict, massacres in the name of religion, their church raping and pillaging lands in the name of “God” but really in the name of greed and power, people of the same faith slaughtering each other (Catholics killing Protestants and Protestants killing Catholics, for example), monarchs using religion for their own selfish agendas (God Bless Henry VIII!)….that they just say, "enough is enough" and give up on faith and religion entirely? It’s not even just a matter of more than half of the UK population not labeling themselves as “religious” – it is a complete abandonment of faith in a higher power of any sort - publicly and without reservation labeling themselves as “non-believers”, period.
Again, I ask, is it a matter of science/intellect or a matter of history? (Because, frankly, I don't know.)
Is the United States on that same path, but being the “little sibling” of the UK with only a short history, relatively speaking, it still has a long way to get there? Sadly, some might argue that it is well on its way to the critical stage of religiously-driven internal conflict, as we turn to recent events that made news around the world with a fundamentalist Christian leader wanting to burn the sacred text of all Muslims, because they are all “fundamentalists”?
Is a specific faith really that important, or, to push the envelope a bit further – is faith at all really that important? And if we were to dissect present-day examples of faith-based conflict in the US and around the world, something tells me that we would find that ti's not about faith at all – it is, like always throughout history, about power, greed and control.
Perhaps the UK is on the right path in its converting churches to something more functional – symbolic of converting religion itself into an ideology – or lack thereof – that is much more functional and realistic in our societies.
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