Get Clicking for a Good Cause

I've recently been pointed in the direction of a few great sites. You click and they give to The Breast Cancer Site, The Hunger Site and various others, all detailed on the tabs at the top of the page.

It's completely free and 100% goes to charity, the money is raised by various companies paying for advertising space on the site but as it's a regulated, responsible site there aren't any nasty pop-ups or annoying flashy things so it's easy to do it again and again.

Another great wee site is Free Rice. Play a word game and every time you correctly guess the synonym for a given word you donate 20 grains of rice, again all for free. So far today, I've already given 1000 grains of rice.

I'm away to click some more.

Twinkle, twinkle sparkly briefs...

How I love those small fig-leaves
At the top of legs so long
They make my boyfriend sing a song!

Terrible wee poem about my lovely wee pants. I can't wait to wear them on Hogmanay, now I just need to find the perfect top to go with them...

Crimbo Catch Up

Ok, ok, I've been very lax recently with my blog writing and I'm sorry. Lots of things have happened but that also means I've been very busy. Since my last post I've been to Amsterdam, finished (and passed) the first part of my Masters, Christmas shopped on my tightest budget ever and celebrated Alasdair's birthday in style.

Our four days in Amsterdam were great, strolling along the canals, drinking hot chocolate and stuffing ourselves with more dough, cheese and ham than we could handle. The only downside was our ridiculously tiny room. Seriously tiny.



The other minor downside was our incredibly loud French neighbours, every night at around 1am they'd start screaming and running around the room. Not ideal for a romantic getaway. Anyway, on the upside Christmas decorations don't get put up until 12th night in Amsterdam so we were able to actually get excited about the whole thing rather than having it forced upon us since mid-October.

After that I found out I'd passed the PG Cert part of my Masters so now have a few more letters to tag on at the end of my name! Also on the work front, Derrick Linton, one of the Time Based Art students on my course, very kindly came down to Glasgow to a freezing day in the Arches to take our pictures for the new website. I'm busy designing the website right now and it'll be online in the new year but you can have a wee preview of the images on my myspace page (the link is opposite).

There have also been a few good nights in and out in the past month and the Subby was having a Morgan's Spiced night on Friday which to be honest could have gone either way but we decided to chance it and go along for Alasdair's birthday (4 days before Christmas - nightmare!). Good decision. Everyone was being handed Elvis style gold aviators as they entered and Mischief-La-Bas were there doing a press routine and taking polaroids of everyone. The music was pretty good as well and Sarah, Jen and I went mental for 5 minutes while they played MIA (AMAZING!!).



Well it's now Christmas and we'll be having our usual family day tomorrow full of pressies, booze and possibly karaoke - Alasdair doesn't know what he's let himself in for! Have a great one, enjoy it and please remember it's the thought that counts... after all, I'm a student again!

xx

...and relaaaax!

Phew! It's all done and dusted now, printed off on fancy paper, burned onto discs and emailed to my course leader one day ahead of the deadline. I really am a mature student now. The course is divided into 3 units, PG Cert, PG Dip and MSc, so that's the first one done. Providing I haven't made a total mess of it (fingers crossed) I will be able to add PG Cert to the end of my name in a few weeks time. Better order in the new stationery now!

Findhorn and the Fairies

I was up at the Findhorn Foundation last week for the Opensource Videodance event, first time I've been up there and I expected it to be like Balamory meets Martha's Vineyard but I didn't realise how accurate that was. When I arrived and found my accommodation, a B&B called Rainbow Lodge, the doors were open with a sign saying 'Pick an empty room and make yourself at home'. Don't see that happening at the Euro Hostel in Glasgow. After picking my room I had a wee wander round the foundation. People live here because they want to live off the land and live a more ecologically sound lifestyle.



Every evening dinner is provided for those who need it and their guests. Before dinner everyone must hold hands and thank the Findhorn fairies for helping to provide the food and prepare the food. Then after dinner the same hand-holding and thanking ritual takes place to bless the washing up then afterwards to bless those who washed up (as well as the Findhorn fairies, of course).

Now, with all this living off the land, tolerance and blessing food going on you'd be forgiven that Findhorn is a very relaxing place where people live and let live, don't dictate to one another and are open to different lifestyles... well, you'd be wrong.

Every time you turn around there's another sign telling you what and what not to do. No showers after dark, no bathroom lights on at night, don't put too much water in the kettle, only use the bread at breakfast time, take your shoes off at the door, no radio (NO RADIO!!!), dinner is at 6pm, washing up is at 6.30pm, and on and on and on.

It's the most regimented, least free-thinking place I've ever been to in my life and I really resented being told when and how to thank people - I've been brought up well enough to thank people when they provide food for me, you don't need to remind me!

I wasn't too keen on the place but the course itself was fantastic. Lot's of in-depth, academic discourse about a subject I'm really interested in plus the opportunity to pick the brains of people doing really exciting things in the field, it couldn't have come at a better time.

My Future Mother-In-Law, Research Woes and a New Toy

After being informed by Alasdair that his mother wanted a word with me about a Christmas night out for the girls in the family I gave his mum a call and was greeted by, "Hi Susan, this is your future mother-in-law, how are you?". A bit of a shock for both of us! Me and Alasdair that is. Apparently his mum has it all mapped out for us.

I've spent the rest of the week winding Alasdair up about it almost being Christmas and how he better produce a decent rock and speak to my dad first or it's a no go. Obviously I'm joking but it's got to a point where he's not sure which is always fun.

Apart from that, this week I've been struggling uni-wise. Struggling to determine exactly what it is I'm researching at uni. Initially I came up with the idea of anonymity giving people freedom but since discovering that all my research is anecdotal (not ideal for a Masters) I have decided to approach the course from a much more practical viewpoint. Since leaving uni (the first time round) 6 years ago I have worked on a project to project basis, making live dance and dance films just because I'm interested in them. They've always been inspired by music and a vision I've had for an end project but now that I'm having to create things from a research perspective I've been struggling. This week I've decided to tackle my course from a practical point of view, taking on lots of mini projects in order to experiment with a notion of the camera being another dancer, showing the viewer what a dancer sees, giving an 'inside view' of the movement. As a result I'm feeling a lot more positive about the whole thing and can't wait to get going with lots of practical work.

Finally a huge thank you to my parents who made Christmas come early today by giving me a MacBook. I can't wait to get going on my uni work now... as soon as I can tear myself away from t'interweb!

Busy, busy, busy

This week I've been a very busy girl updating websites, myspace pages & blog layouts, learning new software (or trying to at least), planning classes, teaching and generally getting ready for the winter.

At the moment I'm loving...

that feeling of accomplishment when web design software just works first time...
looking forward to what feels like the first big night out in ages...
seeing my dance pals (it's been far too long)...
getting all the doublers off my iPod and realising I have much more space than I thought...
being able to wear all the clothes at the back of my wardrobe that I thought I'd have to throw out because they used to be too small...

However I'm not too crazy about...

having cold hands & feet sitting at my computer...
gossip mongers getting their facts wrong...
not having enough cash to go out and buy new clothes that fit...

Company Class at The STAND

FireBox Dance Theatre is pleased to be opening it's company class to other advanced/professional level contemporary dancers. The class is a fusion of Cunningham, Limon and Bodyslam as well as FireBox's own fast-paced, energetic style.

Company class Monday evenings 7.30pm-9pm at The STAND, Clydebank. Drop in fee £6 or buy a term card for £40 lasting 8 classes. See www.fireboxdancetheatre.co.uk for more info.

The STAND Studio, St Andrew's High School, North Douglas Street, Clydebank, Glasgow G81 1NQ

The studio is on bus route numbers 11, 62 and 66 and is about 10 minutes walk from Clydebank train station.

Back to School

Yes, that's right in a moment of madness I accepted an offer to return to uni and do an MSc in Screendance. I found out about the course when an audience member mentioned it after seeing Dark Matter in April. I originally thought it'd be a 6 week intensive that I could pop along to, brush up on my editing skills and then get back to work. It was only when I got chatting to the course leader that I realised the intensity of it all. Not only is it a Masters degree but it's a full year, not an academic year, so I'm signed up to this until Sept 2008.

The course itself will introduce me to new software and techniques and has the opportunity for me to access the Dundee College dancers to create new work. There are only 2 of us full time on the Screendance strand and one other part time but we've been teamed up with Time Based Artists, Sound Artists, Illustrators and Animators as 'Media Arts and Imaging' so there's a range of people to work with on different things.

I'll be spending this year looking into interactive software and it's use within a non-dance context to create dance. It'll all become clear soon enough but basically it means lots of hours in tech suites programming for different eventualities then taking it into the real world, finding out it doesn't work the way I want it to and going back to square one. There will also be a choreographed piece using the software just in case.

It's all very exciting and I'm already noticing little things in my work that could be changed easily and make it much slicker so I'm off to do my first assignment now... the DVD of the last Blaze & FireBox performance.

Too Tired to Move a Muscle

Sleep Paralysis

I had never heard of this term or condition before and even after I'd experienced it I assumed it was just a freaky dream but now I've had it 3 times in 2 weeks and it's starting to become a pain in the proverbial.

For the uninitiated amongst you, which I am assuming is probably the majority unless I've been living under a rock all these years. Sleep paralysis is the temporary paralysis of the body shortly after waking up or, less commonly, shortly before falling asleep (thanks Wikipedia). It feels like your mind is awake but you're unable to move or make any sounds. Very, very scary when you've no idea what's happening and you're trying to shout out for help but you can't make a noise.

The first time I had it was the day we got home from Bestival in Alasdair's house. Just as I was falling asleep I suddenly felt very panicky and realised I couldn't move. I managed to 'wake up' (I assumed I was dreaming at the time) and told Alasdair what had happened. He said he'd had the same 'dream' years ago and not to worry, I wouldn't actually become paralysed. I then went on to have several dreams about being chased and stabbed by people and having to throw knives at them to keep them back (get that shrink on speed dial!) but that's another story.

The second time was probably more scary as this time I was convinced something was wrong with me and I was on my own so had no-one to reassure me or, alternatively, call an ambulance if they woke up and I was paralysed. It happened for the third time last night, I was on my own again and only felt a wee bit worried about it. I'm now concerned that this is going to be a regular occurrence for me. I already get fits of restless leg syndrome and don't think I could put up with something else to disturb my sleep on a regular basis.

Has anyone else had this? Will they become more or less frequent? Any tips on avoiding it? Now that I know what it is I don't feel quite so anxious about them happening and apparently if I move my eyes slowly from side to side I'll be able to 'wake' myself up. Any other suggestions will be most appreciated.

A padded cell is being fitted as I type!

Fun & Frolics at Bestival

I was going to attempt to document the whole weekend but so many strange and wonderful things happened that the only way I can organise my brain around them is by using bulletpoints. Some will be self-explanatory and some are 'in-jokes' and just for my own amusement I'm not going to explain them. Have fun drawing your own conclusions.

Thursday

- 7 hour drive to Southampton, mini flip out from me when I spotted my friend's old house
- gorgeous sunset ferry trip to IOW
- manic driving trying to find Newport FC's makeshift campsite 'before dark' despite the fact I already had my full beams on
- tent up 2nd time lucky and a few celebratory drinks
- hunt the seat testicles

Friday

- 3 mile drive from Newport FC to Bestival site taking almost 2 hours
- 2 trips from car to campsite with booze and gear
- tent up 1st time and many celebratory drinks
- Bollywood Bar & Big Top for much dancing, laughing and chatting to strangers

Saturday

- pirate day
- Worzel Gummage drops his rollie
- Christopher Walken
- 'You're a pure pie'
- midnight pizza munching
- Big Top for much dancing, laughing, chatting to strangers and aarrrgghing

Sunday

- zzzip, ksssh, glug glug glug
- let's get married
- worst ale ever
- 'just a band'
- Big Top for much dancing, laughing and chatting to Grotbags

Monday

- 6.30am alarm
- to spew or not to spew
- £26 breakfast
- 7.15pm home safe and sound
- best shower ever

photos are on my flickr page x

Countdown to Bestival

I am getting very excited now. I have a tent, wellies, suncream, tickets and pirate costume all ready to go. A quick trip to asda (ok, maybe lidl) later on for booze and croissants (breakfast is the most important meal of the day after all) and we're all set. I even decorated the envelope with all the important things in it. Yes, I know that's possibly the most pathetic thing I've ever done but that's what happens when I get excited about things.

Now if everyone can join together in a little sundance for the weekend I will be most grateful. Thank you x

LA and Home

My last few days in LA weren't exactly spectacular, I was put in the staff room at the hostel which was absolutely bogging and a bit cliquey, the hostel was in a really rough area on Hollywood Blvd full of guys hanging about and folk off their faces and I just didn't like the place. Parts of it were nice but nothing amazing and certainly not worth the hype.

Hollywood Blvd, one of the main tourist attractions in LA only has 3 or 4 blocks that feel safe enough to walk them alone after dark. The part that the hostel was situated in was probably one of the dodgiest areas I've ever been in and I made sure I was back at the hostel before 7.30pm each night. I know hostels are generally in more run down areas but contrast this to the hostel in San Francisco where I felt perfectly safe out at night even though it was in the red light district.

I enjoyed spending some time on Venice Beach and saw some great street performers, The Calypso Tumblers, as well as a Basketball game near Muscle beach but Santa Monica beach was more like Butlins and Rodeo Drive was nice but didn't have anything that you can't find somewhere in Glasgow minus the attitude problem.

The people are also a waste of space. Girls who swan about waiting for people to notice them, 'actors' waiting every single table in the city and some of the most sexually aggressive men I've ever had the misfortune to encounter - apparently walking in a gang behind a girl and shouting about how nice her legs, bum, boobs are is acceptable in LA. What self-respecting girl would find that flattering? On second thoughts, the ones that want to be noticed would probably love this.

And so, after a few disappointing days in LA I was glad to be heading home to sunny Glasgow. I'm sure if I had left the US directly from Chicago or San Fran I wouldn't have been so eager but it was probably best ending the 2 months like that rather than dragging myself to the airport.

It was an uneventful 10 hour flight (being able to sleep would have been nice though) then a short hop from Heathrow back up to Glasgow where I was met by my mum, dad and Alasdair. Dinner, some wine and endless anecdotes later I crashed out at the fairly respectable time of 1am - God knows how many hours after getting up for breakfast at 8am the previous morning in a different timezone. No real jet lag to speak of although Alasdair kindly pointed out that I looked knackered yesterday morning - thanks, darling!

I had a great summer, met some fantastic people (as well as a few scary nutters), saw some amazing sights, danced my heart out and was inspired by others but I have to admit I'm glad to be home. There's something about Glasgow that makes me feel safe, it's home. I know it has it's downsides and I'm not blind to them but better the devil you know and it does have tons of good points in it's favour, culture, shopping, nightlife, open spaces, music, dance, the punters, the patter...

Glasgow's Miles Better!

Playing Hide'n'Seek with LAX

You'd think a major international airport with 8 terminals would be clearly signposted from a variety of roads leading into LA. You'd think that but you'd be wrong. It's not until you're about 10 miles away that there are signposts. What's the point in that? By the time you're 10 miles away you can follow the planes in. I spent a very frustrating hour driving round LA today trying to find some sort of indication that I was heading in the right direction and ended up pulling in to a communications firm to ask the receptionist for directions. She very kindly printed out a mapquest page and as it turned out I was only 20 minutes away but without her help I doubt I'd have got any closer on my own. LAX needs to spend some cash on new road signs.

The Tory Boys and The 80s Bar

After a day spent on the beach I returned to my room and found another 2 guys in my supposedly female dorm room. I complained again but as there were no other rooms they have a policy of turning female rooms into mixed rooms if it means they can get a few extra people paying $30 a night through the door. The door incidentally doesn't open fully due to a bunk bed in the way. Health and safety seems to be about as high up the list of priorities as guest comfort. I have no moral objection to sharing a room with members of the opposite sex but when I'm travelling alone I'd prefer to have a chance against the lunatic in my room instead of it being 2 6ft guys.

Anyway, rant over. The guys, Pete and Rob, both from London, both members of the Tory party and both very funny, turned out not to be serial killers so we decided to go out for a drink in State St. Santa Barbara is pretty much made up of the beach and State St. First we found an Irish bar but it was pretty dull so we left and had a wander up the street where we discovered a livelier place playing the worst 80s music ever.

The only good song they played all night was Let's Dance and even that had a stupid drum beat over the top. Sacrilege. During the course of the night we got chatting to various locals and 'vacationers' and a good time was had by all.

At the end of the night Amani and Elliott, 2 DJs from LA, invited us to a party and of course I was up for it until the Tory boys ruined my fun by reminding me that I was getting up at 8am to drive to LA in the morning. Those Tories ruin everything!

Cruising with the Top Down

Yep, I am officially loving having the wind in my hair and the sun on my shoulders, although I am having to make extra stops to re-apply sun cream. Yesterday, 19 Aug, I drove from SF to Monterey stopping in at a few places on the way mainly to see how the other half lives. Serious money in this area.

Monterey doesn't have much to offer apart from it's fishing trade. There are a few piers, some working and some touristy where you can buy anything as long as it's fish or fish-related. I tried clam chowder but it was a bit heavy so I decided to catch my dinner instead, ok that was luck instead of planning but it worked.

I also found a British gift shop (why?!?) so went in to have a nosey at what British things people could buy from Monterey. As well as the usual china and dishtowels they had a British grocery store selling... IRN BRU!! As soon as I saw it I knew I couldn't wait another week to have it. The man behind the counter thought I was hilarious getting so excited about it but I knew that it meant I'd be having a fish supper and a bottle of Bru for dinner.

Today (Monday 20 Aug) I drove the majority of the Pacific Highway, Route 1. Most of the journey is coastal covering the 90 miles of Big Sur. A beautiful, dramatic coastline formed by ancient mountaintops protruding from the ocean. I'd been told that a lot of the coastline looked like Scotland and they weren't wrong. The only real difference was the colours. While our trees are much greener I've never seen such blue sea in Scotland. It actually reminded me what's on my doorstep and made me more determined to see Scotland properly and not just motorways and the insides of gym halls. I can feel a camping trip coming on.

After Big Sur, the highway leads to San Luis Obispo, a small beach town exactly halfway between SF and LA. I'd been planning on staying there for the night but there was no room at the inn, ok hostel, and other than that I had no real option. Motels are a lot more expensive than I expected them to be - $80 and up compared to $25 average for a hostel.

So I decided to bite the bullet and drove the extra 100 miles to Santa Barbara where I am now. I checked with the hostel here before leaving San Luis Obispo and booked in for tonight and tomorrow night. The hostel seems ok, a lot of young people but in a residential area so quite quiet as well but the kitchen is ridiculously small. I've had bigger kitchens in flats I've lived in. It wasn't helped by the fact that there were 5 girls 'helping' (ie flirting with) and Italian guy who was using pretty much every pot in the kitchen to make pasta with a tomato and pepper sauce. It looked quite nice until he added a cup full of oil after it had been cooking for 20 minutes and put 3 handfuls of salt into the pasta. I could've waited but I'd had nothing since breakfast and all the driving and sea air had really had an effect on my appetite. My pasta and pesto was so much better than his oil slick and salt effort anyway.

Tired and cranky? Yep!

The Missing Day in The Mission

Saturday 18th August

I have a bit more time now so, as promised, here are the events of my day with Wyatt in The Mission. The Mission is a predominantly Mexican area of San Francisco with a lot of bars, cafes, vintage shops and street art.

By the time we got there breakfast had worn off so we popped into a cafe for a snack. We both ordered Tacos Cabeza Mas Grande, Beef Head Tacos with all the trimmings. I have to admit to being a bit dubious but it just tasted like the rest of the cow but slightly more tender. Wyatt was impressed by my ordering in Spanish but the waitress had a wee giggle at my Spanish as opposed to Mexican accent. Not that I minded, she gave me my drink for free.

After that we headed towards Galeria del Razas, The People's Gallery, where most of the exhibits were about immigration and the extreme lengths people go to both to get in and to keep others out. Interesting but from an artistic point of view everything was very simplistic. They did have a cool wee skeleton doll which will be on the flickr page as soon as I can upload pics.

After that and a wander round the shops we decided a light refreshment was in order and Wyatt already had the only gay bar in the village earmarked - I have a sneaking suspicion that was his whole motivation for the day. The Phone Booth is a bar for freaks. It has a sign saying that behind the bar so I was expecting the American version of freaks where people are just slightly less clean cut than normal but this was full on Jerry Springer show freaks. Within half an hour of being there I'd met Liz the Lesbian who fancied me, Perry the Fairy who prayed a lot, Louise an elderly Korean woman who sat in the corner and giggled a lot and 2 prostitutes, 1 female and 1 tranny who decided to show the whole bar her new pouch. I'm glad to say I wasn't the only one a little put off by this.

Later on the place livened up and became pretty much your average bar with a variety of people coming in and out. 2 girls came in at one point and sat down for a chat while they had a drink. One was called Emily and the other, Sushka! She's Mexican but her parents met in Russia and had heard the name there. I don't know who was more surprised when I explained that my mum calls me Sushka. It was about the most shocking thing the whole night.

Despite the range of characters I had a great night in there and was proud to be the biggest freak in there - they've never had a straight, white Scottish girl with blonde hair and blue eyes sitting in the bar before! I'm a freak, fact! I think they kept expecting me to be shocked by their antics and everything that was happening but they've never met Wee Gay Bryan so I'd seen it all before!

Must be my Lucky Day!

I'm paying for this internet so I'll skip yesterday's events (Beef head, The Mission and Liz the Lesbian) and just tell you about today, my lucky day. When I was packing my bag to leave SF this morning I noticed my iPod was missing. I'd had it in the lounge a few days ago and couldn't remember having it since then. Thought I'd lost it and was physically sick at the thought of it. On the off chance I asked at reception and some wonderful person had handed it in.

Next I went to pick up my hire car to drive to LA and the man serving me didn't recongise my booking and was about to turn me away. He then checked bookings in a different way (technical stuff) and found me. To apologise for the inconvience (I was standing there for a whole 5 minutes) he upgraded me to a convertible. I am now cruising down the 101 with the wind in my hair and the sun on my shoulders.

Then, when I arrived in Monterey, a fishing town, 2 men in their 60s/70s thought I looked lucky and they'd been having a bad day so they handed me their rod. Within 20 minutes I'd caught dinner. Wow!

Everything before this sentence was written yesterday, the secoong I typed the exclamation mark my session timed out. Luckily I had auto-save set and I didn't lose anything. My lucky day was Sunday 19 Aug, it's now Monday 20 Aug.

Time off for Good Behaviour

Today I went to Alcatraz, possibly one of the best things I've done in the US. I was half expecting to be a bit bored and to rush through the cellblock just glancing at the info cards like I usually end up doing in museums (with the exception of GOMA which I always enjoy) but I was completely engrossed in the whole thing.

The boat takes about 20 minutes to sail the mile and a half to the island and you're greeted by a tour guide who makes sure everyone knows where they can and cannot go, where the toilets are and where the shops are. Then you're pretty much left to your own devices. I went straight up to Alcatraz and took the self-guided (free) audio tour which has won awards year in, year out and features the voices of former guards and inmates (the majority by Leon 'Whitey' Thomspon, a bank robber who was sentenced to Alcatraz for 15 years and never received a single visitor or letter) giving their accounts of prison life. There is a group tour with a guide but that seems slightly pointless when the self-guided tour is so good, even telling you where to walk to and where to stand to get a good view. Obviously everyone else is on the same self-guided audio tour so there are a few bottle-neck situations but being on the first boat out ensured it was the minimal amount of disruption and you can pause your tape at any time.

Alcatraz was the only American prison at the time to give inmates hot showers. By getting them accustomed to relative luxury they were less likely to attempt to escape to the icy waters of San Francisco bay. They were also given healthy, good quality food that was presented nicely on plates - certainly not the bread and water gruel served in other prisons. As part of the tour you are encouraged to go into some of the cells to feel how small they are - 5ftx9ftx7ft. The only cells larger than this are in isolation but they are in total darkness. Leon's method of keeping himself sane in isolation was to take a button off his shirt and throw it in the air. He'd then spend the next few hours crawling around in the pitch black trying to find it. When he found it, he'd do it all again sometimes for days at a time.



Aside from the prison, Alcatraz played host to a demonstration by Indians (their term so I'm assuming it's right) who were annoyed with the government for not following through on a treaty allowing land that is no longer used as government land to be reclaimed by Indians. When Alcatraz, the prison, was closed due to rising costs and a change from punishment to rehabilitation of offenders, a group of Indian students landed on the island to make their point. It worked and although they never lived on Alcatraz for any length of time the government did honour the treaty at other similar sites.

Alcatraz was also an area that people aspired to live in even though it meant a boat trip to do shopping or go to school. Originally the housing was for guards and their families but other families started to move to Alcatraz for cheaper housing and it's low crime rate. Apparently it was common to keep doors unlocked and to use a neighbour's bike or lawnmower on the basis that it'd be returned at some point. Quote from a former resident: "We knew where all the bad guys were so we didn't have to worry about things". Fantastic. Who'd have thought Alcatraz would have been an area people aspired to live in - not quite the same with Barlinnie.

It was all go on the tourist express yesterday as well. I walked the Golden Gate bridge, well part of it anyway. It was really windy and crowded so I walked to the first big tower, took a few pics including one of the 'Crisis Counselling' hotline and turned back. My second stop on the tourist express was Lombard St, the 'crookedest street'. It was another place I just wanted to see just so I could say I'd seen it. Kind of cool but dominated by tourists which is to be expected. I pity the people who live on this street, must be so annoying having coach tours pull up outside your front door every 10 minutes.

Last night was spent in the ballroom with Wyatt, a film student using the hostel as a base while he finds an apartment and Matt and Colin, 19 year olds from Chicago who started every sentence with the word 'Dude'. As the night wore on this got funnier and funnier until Colin thought I was making fun of him and informed me that I had an accent too. I thought he'd fallen out with me at that point but he was talking to me this morning so he's either put it behind him or his hangover got the better of him. Not sure.

Tonight is another free dinner (yaay) and maybe a trip to a few gay bars in the Mission with Wyatt... It's fun to stay at the YMCA!

Go and buy a Scion now

Yesterday (15 Aug) Clare and I met at the far end of Haight Street outside Amoeba Records so we could have a wander round Twin Peaks. Whilst waiting for her I was approached by a PR girl asking if I wanted $15 to spend in Amoeba. All I had to do was test drive the new Scion xD and fill out a 1 page survey about it. Realising that even if she was going to try and sell me something I wouldn't be able to afford it or get it out the country I thought I'd go for it.

When Clare arrived we headed into the car park they'd taken over and signed up for our test drive. A quick once round the block later - I was driving - and we'd almost earned our $15. The survey was aimed at American customers so we left most of it blank and collected our cash AND free t-shirt. To be honest I'd have done it for the free t-shirt alone but I wasn't telling them that.

After our little Scion adventure we tried and failed to go to Twin Peaks. Twin Peaks is just a hill, yes a hill in San Fran, shocking but apparently you can see a 360 degree view of San Fran and the bay. We were on 3 different buses heading in 2 different directions and although we kept going up we didn't seem to get any closer so when the 37 got back to the Castro we cut our losses, had a wander round there instead and went back to the hostel for free dinner. The Castro is the original and still the main gay area in SF, very vibrant with lots of cafes, bars restaurants and 'specialist' boutiques. There are rainbow flags everywhere and I think even Dad would realise he was in a gay bar in this place.

Free dinner was burritos with bean chilli and salad - lovely. The bean chilli was quite surprising actually, a lot nicer than I expected it to be, might give it a try when I get home.

After dinner Clare and I hung around the ballroom with Paul (English guy from the Beer Pong night), Dave (from Colorado) and Bora (Turkish guy) and spent the night having a chat and a laugh. Yet again my limited Turkish came in handy and apparently I'm the first person Bora's ever met to have learnt some Turkish. Don't worry Dad, I got his email address so you can impress him with your Turkish too.

Fogbathing, Beer Pong and an International Ceilidh

Yesterday (Tues 14th) I decided to head to the beach as it was sunny and apparently has great views of Golden Gate bridge which I would have enjoyed if not for the fog. I set off mid-morning and after an hour and a half of walking and bussing it through different areas and parks I made it to Baker Beach just in time for the fog. And when I say fog I mean the thickest, bleakest, chilliest fog you can imagine. I sat on the beach for about 30 minutes with my beach towel wrapped around me before I'd had enough and got the bus back into the city. I actually managed to get a great shot of the bridge shrouded in fog and discovered Presidio, a former Spanish military out-posting upon which San Francisco was founded, so not a total waste of time.

The rest of the afternoon was spent hunting for internet cafes and was so tediously boring I won't waste your time with details.

For dinner, I went to House of Nanking, a highly recommended Chinese restaurant just round the corner on Kearny St. Every night without fail this place has people queueing outside it despite the fact it's in Chinatown and surrounded by other restaurants. There was no menu in the window so I was slightly apprehensive about range of choice and costs but I needn't have worried. I ordered salt and pepper shrimp and mushrooms and it was the freshest, tastiest Chinese meal I've ever had and not even a trace of Monosodium Glutamate. That plus a glass of wine came to less than $15 (8quid!). It's not the sort of place you'd go to for a leisurely or romantic dinner, you sit wherever there's space, order quickly and don't hang around after all there's another queue of people waiting but it was worth it.

Beer Pong was next on my agenda, well it wasn't actually part of the plan but somehow I ended up playing. The plan was to go into the ballroom (the hostel's multi-purpose lounge/bar area), watch a few games and get chatting to some people. Before I knew it I was being accosted by Maura, an Irish girl looking for a team-mate, and playing against Nat and Josh in the first round.

Beer Pong is a simple game. Each pair has a set of 6 half filled beer glasses arranged in a triangle in front of them. The object of the game is to throw a ping pong ball into your opponent's glasses to knock them out. The first team to eliminate all their opponent's glasses wins. Of course, each time someone lands a ball in your pint you have to drink it.

Maura and I turned out to be surprisingly good and equally competitive so we made a great team. We beat Nat and Josh in the first round and went on to play 2 English girls who were taking the whole thing very seriously and got very annoyed with themselves when they lost. It was during this round that Team Celtic was developed. Maura is travelling with 4 friends so they were the founding members then we had Clare (roommate from Edinburgh), Paul (random English guy travelling alone) and a Korean couple who seemed totally bemused by what was going on. Team Celtic was responsible for leading the Mexican wave anytime we scored and chants of "There's only one Team Celtic!" as well as general ooh-ing and ah-ing at any near misses.

After totally trouncing the English girls we were in the semi-final against 2 American guys, 1 of whom was an obnoxious git. It was a close-run game in spite of his 'tactics'. Apparently the only way to win is to distract your opponents and wave your arms around. Team Celtic was not impressed by this guy's antics and neither was the rest of the bar who quickly joined Team Celtic. By this point we had about 40 people all Mexican-waving and cheering us on.

Unfortunately they cheated and won and that was the end of Team Celtic's Beer Pong championship dreams. The obnoxious git was in the final against Adam (Australian guy with bleached blonde hair) and a French guy whose name I don't know. Team Celtic got behind Adam and the French guy and made them honorary Celts for the purposes of cheering. Obnoxious git and his teammate were being annihilated and were losing 5-1 when Adam threw and Obnoxious guy blocked the shot. This should have been and instant disqualification but Adam decided to take the shot again and win in style. He sunk it straightaway and Team Celtic went wild. The prize for the Beer Pong tournament is a free night's stay at the hostel and a case of beer. If I'd known that at the start I'd have tried harder!

For anyone else this would have been enough excitement for one evening but not for Team Celtic. Someone had arranged for an Irish band to play after the tournament with the aim of holding a ceilidh but nobody had checked whether or not anyone knew any dances. After about half an hour of people jumping around aimlessly I stepped in and put on my Miss Bossyboots t-shirt. Pretty soon we had an International Gay Gordons underway with mixed success. Some people were great and got it straightaway but most were awful and we had a few near misses with dislocated shoulders on the switch turn. Fearing the someone would end up in hospital I set up Strip the Willow.

The last time I Stripped the Willow was at Yvonne and Iain's wedding and I ended up in the drum kit in some sort of matrix move, a move that I wasn't keen of repeating especially as there was no drum kit to save me this time!

It went surprisingly well and assisted by Clare we managed to get most people going in the right direction. No small feat when the majority don't speak English and I'm shouting at them in my teacher voice. With each round the set got smaller (lightweights) and we also seemed to end up with people switching sides and unequal numbers on each side but we made it through. What I didn't realise though was that when the band walked down the middle of the set they were trying to signal the end but as they kept playing we kept dancing. It was only afterwards that one of the band members told me they'd been playing that tune for over half an hour. Oops!

All in all not a bad night and plenty to chat about this morning at breakfast. Oh, and no-one fell over but I do have an impressive bruise on the inside of my arm.

A job offer, a photo shoot and a broken nail.

First thing today, leaving the hostel, a man got out his car, walked into a bar and walked back out again to ask if I could dance. Em, well you could say that. Before I could answer he said if I danced as good as I looked I had a job. Where? At his bar, the "adult entertainment" venue across from the hostel. Thanks but I think I'll pass. A nice start to the day though and I might need a few extra bob at some point.

After that I took the bus down to Haight-Ashbury where all the arty-farty crowd do their shopping. I was on the hunt for CDs for Alasdair, ones that were difficult to find in the UK and just a general nosey for myself. First stop was Amoeba records, an emporium of new and used records on every format and in every genre. I was in there an hour and I only scratched the surface of the electro section.

When I came out a girl approached me and asked if she could take my photo for a new style mag called Look (original name, eh). So of course I obliged and gave her a twirl in my long frock. She has my email address and has promised to forward a copy of the pic but she seemed a bit ditsy so I'm not holding my breath. She asked me for a little quote about myself and I managed to get FireBox in so if there's a huge surge in hits from California I'll know I've been published.

With practically every shop I went into I received more compliments. One of the things I really like about here is that people are open and willing to hand out compliments. If they like something you're wearing they don't keep it to themselves, they'll make sure you know. Many a time in Glasgow I've seen someone walking down the street and thought their hair was nice, they had great shoes or a lovely dress and not said anything. People here have no such qualms.

Wonder if I'll get charged excess baggage for my newly inflated ego?

Haight-Ashbury had some nice shops but a lot of smelly vintage stuff too. I don't care what people say about vintage stuff being clean but it still smells. So I started to walk back along Haight Street towards the Downtown area. On the way back whilst rummaging in my back for my little fold up map I broke a nail. This wouldn't normally be blog-worthy but this was a cracker. A few weeks ago I was chopping up some chorizo for paella when it slipped and I sliced my finger (left hand, middle) and into my nail partially cutting it in two. I'd been managing to keep the broken piece intact hoping that if I kept filing it down it would grow out. Today put paid to that. My nail is now half the nail it used to be and the nail bed is painful to the touch. I'm torn between keeping it under a plaster to stop it getting infected and trying to get air about it to help it grow. The plaster is currently winning.

Just before coming back to the hostel for a (free) dinner of pasta pesto and salad I stopped by a little Italian cafe where the compliments were flowing thick and fast. I was feeling very pleased with myself and swished out the door slap bang into a crowd of angry teenagers, one of whom took an instant dislike to my swooshing and decided to have a go. Apparently I'm vacant, judgemental and empty and am only concerned with dying my hair blonde and keeping my tan looking good just like all those other LA bimbos and I should go back to where I came from.

You'll be pleased to hear that I did take the time to point out that my hair's not dyed, I've worked hard on my tan and I like it, I'm not from LA, it's bad vocabulary to use vacant and empty in the same sentence and it certainly wasn't ME being judgmental.

Hmmf.

During dinner I met one of my new dorm buddies, Claire. She's a media student from Edinburgh and has spent the last 6 months in Melbourne as part of her course. This is her making a few stops on her way home. She had a ticket to see Minnie Driver who is apparently now a singer/songwriter. Really? Does the world need another actress turned muso? Anyway, I agreed to go since it was a nice offer and it would be nice to hang out with someone for a while so we headed down Market St to Cafe du Nord. Sold out. Bummer. Claire went in and I went home. Probably for the best as I'd forgotten my ID and I don't think I could have retained any credibility at all after being at a Minnie gig.

Mon 13 Aug

San Francisco's ABC: Alcatraz, Ballet and Climbing!

I arrived in San Francisco (or SF as the locals say) last night after a pretty uneventful flight and airport shuttle into the city. One thing to say about the flight though, on a 4 hour flight costing 140 quid you'd think there'd be grub. Apparently not. American Airlines don't feed you but you do have the option of a complimentary soft drink or purchasing a snack or "adult beverage". I wasn't impressed.

Got into my room and my dorm buddies seem nice enough, no obvious axe-murderers anyway. I've got the bed under the window on one of the busiest streets in SF. The street is full of bars, restaurants, clubs and "adult entertainment venues". Wonder if they also sell "adult beverages"? I'm just glad I have the ability to sleep anywhere and the noise won't bother me.

Woke up early this morning, had breakfast and decided to go for a wander to get my bearings. I headed up to the piers where all the tours leave from to book my Alcatraz tour. I'd already been warned by dorm buddy Vanessa, French girl, very nice, that there's only one company authorised to land on Alcatraz so they book up fast. Sure enough, the earliest tour I could book myself on was Thursday 16th at 12.30pm. BUT, I'd also heard that it's better going on an earlier tour as there are fewer crowds. People can stay as long as they want so the crowds build up throughout the day. Knowing this I booked myself on the Early Bird tour at 9am on Friday 17th. $24 including tax for the boat trip and tour around the prison. The audio tour features ex-prisoners giving their account of life on Alcatraz and has apparently won awards year in year out. Looking forward to it.

After that I took a leisurely stroll around the tourist trap piers, think Brighton pier with more expensive shops. It was nice enough but exactly what you'd expect from a pier aimed at tourists. So I headed to Stern Grove where, informed by the info board at the hostel, I knew San Francisco Ballet were performing. For FREE! My favourite price. I tried to walk the whole distance but after realising my map wasn't to scale and I was attempting to walk approx 10 miles in an hour I hopped on a bus. $1.50 plus free transfers for the following 90 minutes, although as I discovered today 90 minutes last much longer here than in Britain. My 90 minutes lasted about 4 hours because the bus drivers rarely check the times and you hold onto your ticket. Fantastic.

The SF Ballet were amazing and the park was packed. Seriously packed. We're talking main stage at T in the Park packed (OK, maybe Belladrum) but definitely over a thousand people. It's amazing what FREE does to the audience numbers at the ballet. Most people had been there for hours with picnic blankets, small tables and hampers full of wine and cheese. I did try sitting close to people and smiling hoping they'd share but I didn't have a very good view so I staked out a spot in front of the tech desk - always the best spot in the house. I arrived too late to catch the first piece but I did catch a George Balanchine piece which was good but just your standard traditional ballet then Paul Taylor's Spring Rounds which was just gorgeous. Set to jazz music and with relaxed, colourful costumes in a 1940s style the dancers were so fluid and quick I was grinning like a maniac watching it with toes tapping, obviously. Stern Grove runs a free arts festival throughout the summer every year. Next week is the last week but it's opera so I might give it a miss.

And so on to C: Climbing. It's no wonder I couldn't walk the distance today. Apart from 10 miles in an hour being a tad over ambitious the hills are mental. Seriously mental. I walked up one today, Broderick Street between Villeja and Broadway that was at a 28 degree angle. 28 degrees! It was actually a bit scary at one point and I was holding onto the wall in case I slipped on some leaves (leaves are slippy you know, just ask British Rail) and at the top was a sign saying... HILL!! HILL-arious. (sorry)

I took loads of photos today and will get them up as soon as possible but it's almost 7pm, my feet are killing me and I'm hungry so I'm going to change my shoes and head into Chinatown for some food. I get free dinner here on Monday, Wednesday and Friday and snacks are so cheap (and so big) in certain places that I'm actually better off eating out that buying stuff to cook. Sounds good but we'll see...

Save the Last Dance for me!

Today was my last day dancing in Chicago and I have to say I'm really going to miss it. It feels like I'm back in uni again, dancing for hours every day and working in small groups to help each other figure out the combinations and although I still have American voices shouting at me, this time they are all positive (DT needs to learn a lesson here from her fellow yanks, I work much better with encouragement than with criticism).

All this week I have been dancing with The Dance COLEctive headed up by Margi Cole. My flatmate Liz is a member of TDC so it was great seeing her do what she does best. It was also great doing partner work and being lifted for a change. I am always, always, always the lifter never the liftee. I understand why and I even do it myself when I'm choreographing. I'm tall and fairly strong so when I lift dancers they really fly through the air and it's much more impressive than a small person lifting me and my legs still dragging along the floor. Margi, who is 5'2", showed me different lifts where height differences don't come into it and she actually got me quite a distance off the ground. Something to bear in mind for future.

I also Fedexed my dance clothes home today. Mum, if you're reading this, I'd open the box in a well-ventilated area if I were you. Sorry. I went into the Fedex office yesterday to pick up a box and the address form and even after I asked if I needed an international form he still gave me a US airbill. I filled it in but didn't attach it to the box as I was pretty certain he'd given me the wrong form. Sure enough I took my parcel back in this morning and asked again if he was definitely, positively, without a doubt sure that he'd given me the proper form... "Oh no, you need an International form for that". Deep breath, Susan, count to ten.

After class I cycled my last cycle over to Mindy's house to return her bike. It was quite sad saying goodbye to her as she's similar to Sarah in a lot of ways, not least her youthful face, and I enjoyed hanging around with her. She's planning a trip over to Scotland at some point so fingers crossed we'll meet up again. This time I can take her out til 5am, although probably more like 9am if we're really in the mood!

Ah'm Pure American So Ah'm Ur

Last week at the end of Cindy's class we were all reclaiming our water bottles. They tend to move around the room as we take sips (gulps) then move to new spots. Mindy Meyers had collected all the bottles and was calling out, "Who's is the Evian?",
"Who's is Volvic?",
"Who's Fiji Water?",
"Who's Pure American?"

Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!

That's mine, I'm Pure American!!!

Needless to say nobody else in the class could understand why this was so funny and even after trying to explain the Glaswegian use of the word 'pure' it still didn't really translate. It was pure dead brilliant though!

Even In Blackouts present The Larry and Raul Show!

Liz C (flatmate) and I went to the Even In Blackouts gig last night at Simon's Tavern on N. Clark, a dingy but nice wee bar with regular live music. Even In Blackouts were great as always, despite being a little unrehearsed. Luckily they have enough talent and charisma to pull it off and nobody minded them forgetting words, coming in at the wrong time or not knowing which song to play next. They also made me feel really welcome, asking after my family, chatting away about time spent here and in Glasgow and letting me steal hats. N.B. Liz E (EIB) has promised to come shopping next time and I'm determined to hold her to it.


Entertainment was also supplied by The Larry and Raul Show. Two men in their 60s who came and sat next to Liz C and I because we were in 'their' seats. We were about to make our excuses and find another table but they were harmless and so funny so we stayed. Things started off well enough, a polite enquiry about the band, did we mind them joining us but this was their usual spot, nice weather we're having and then... the question that opened up a whole can of worms:

Raul, "Where are you from?"
Me, "Scotland"
R and Larry, "Oh wow, she's from Scotland, hey did you hear that? This girl's from Scotland. All the way over there in Europe. Scotland, huh? Wow"
Me, "Yeah, Scotland, it's nice"

I then spent the rest of my evening answering a barrage of questions and trying to answer them truthfully whilst not being sure if they're winding me up or not. I came to the conclusion that they weren't winding me up and they really didn't know anything about the world outside America. Questions included:

What language do they speak in Scotland?
Do they speak Garlic like the Irish? (Gaelic)
Do you have Mexican food in Scotland?
Do you have Spanish food in Scotland, cos that's different ya know?
Is it all mountains in Scotland?
Do you have freeways in Scotland?
Do you have Chinese food in Scotland?
Do you have Italians in Scotland?
Do you have Poles in Scotland? (I assume they meant the people not upright cylinders but you never know)
How do you say love in Scotch? (they very quickly were told off for saying Scotch)
How do you say cheers in Scottish?
Where exactly is Scotland?
Oh, it's part of England is it? (I nearly stopped talking to them at this point but Raul saved the day when he told Larry it wasn't)
Do they have Indian food in Scotland?
Do they have McDonald's in Scotland? (Even Baghdad has McDonalds. This was lost on them as they didn't know where Baghdad was either)
Do they have Burger King in Scotland?
Do they have Wendy's in Scotland? (No. Oh that's a shame, they don't have Wendy's in Scotland, they don't have them. Tsk tsk)
Do they have their own money in Scotland? (On payday we do!)
What's the food like in Scotland?
Is Scotland where 'haggish' is from? (He meant haggis)
Why do you have to have a big bag on the bagpipes? (Erm, cos without the bag they'd just be pipes)
What's the capital city of Scotland? (Larry then tried to correct MY pronunciation of Edinboro!)
They really have Mexican food in Scotland?

I would have mentioned the fact that we only just got electricity and running water but I thought my sarcasm would have been lost on them so it was better sticking to the facts. Liz C, Phil and Gub were really embarrassed about them, thinking that I would think all Americans are as thick as Larry and Raul but it was fine because I know that it's only the majority who are as thick as them and at least they were asking questions.

I should also mention that every question started with "Hey, Scotland"!

Live to Work or Work to Live?

I've always thought of myself as a 'Work to Live' type of person. I'm very fortunate that I love my job (that's what happens when you turn a hobby into work) but ultimately I work so I can have nice things, go out with my friends and go abroad. Being a freelancer my work schedule varies a lot, sometimes working 12 hour days most of the week and sometimes only a few hours a day. Either way, it's my choice.

Here I have discovered that a full time job demands 60 hours per week to our 37.5 hours. On top of that most people do overtime, often unpaid, to take their weekly working time up to 80-100 hours per week. They get up at 5.30am, are in the office at 7am until 8pm at night then bring their laptop home and do a few more hours before bedtime.

With them working such long hours you'd think they'd be compensated with annual leave, right? Wrong. Americans are only entitled to 2 weeks annual leave. 2 weeks! Then with medical insurance averaging at 350 quid a month, sales tax which varies from state to state, food which is even more expensive than Waitrose or M&S and a minimum wage of roughly 2.50 an hour the only bonus to living in America is the housing. Much bigger flats than ours for a fraction of the price and even the worst of the Government housing, equivalent to our Housing Association, is spacious, well-maintained and somewhere I'd be happy living... if I could transport it back to Scotland that is.

P** B*** and Pushy Pests (*edited at Mum's request)

P** B*** works. Especially when used in conjunction with I****** tablets. I know a lot of you may think this is overkill but I have always been desperate for a tan. Growing up as the 'white chicken' of the family is no fun, surrounded by dark haired people who tan easily and don't have to deal with comments like, "I thought you were on holiday? Was it not sunny?" was rubbish. But lately, since my 3 weeks in India, I've been tanning more and with my new found lotion and potion I'm actually going properly brown. Not just my usual freckly and golden but properly brown. People who don't know me are even commenting on my nice tan which is a first. All my hard work lying on the beach for hours every day has been worth it especially since I've had to deal with the aforementioned pushy pests.

American men are forward, desperate, pushy and don't take no for an answer. Last night I was meeting Mindy at the North Avenue Beach House to reshoot some material when I was approached by some random asking if he could borrow my cell phone. Taken by surprise I agreed (yeah, I know it's unlike me) and he made a call looking for his brother who didn't answer. It was only later I realised this was a crafty way of getting my number without directly asking for it. He spent the next 20 minutes (my cycling is getting faster so I was early) talking about how he was just back from Czechoslovakia (doubt he can even spell it) and how different it was to America. Duh! At one point he even said how weird it was that black people and Asian people spoke Czechoslovakian! Oh my God! Really?!? You mean they speak the language of the country they're from?!?! Wow!

After him rambling on about this and me checking my watch every 5 seconds waiting for Mindy he pops the question: Did I want to go for a drink. Sorry, no. Why not? Well, I'm meeting my friend tonight, I have a boyfriend and I'm just not interested in ignorant midgets who think America is the centre of the universe (ok, the last one I just said in my head). Another 10 minutes he stood asking the same question. Take the hint mate, NO.

Then again at the beach today, 2 young guys set out their towels and CD player (Maroon 5!) quite near me before one of them comes over with a piece of paper with both their numbers on it for me to choose which one I wanted to go out with. I didn't even take the piece of paper and they still spent the next 10 minutes saying where each of them would take me for a date. I was looking for Cilla and our Graham with the round up.

I'm enjoying being here, I know just enough people to hang about with and still have my moments of anonymity but the pushy pests are getting on my nerves. I can't imagine this unrelenting technique of chatting someone up would ever actually work but it seems to be the main method here. Very strange.

A Breakthrough at Breakbone and Liz's Leaving Do

Breakbone classes are getting easier. I never thought I'd be able to say that but after a few weeks of throwing myself about I'm actually starting to get good at some things. I've mastered a freeze, balancing your whole body on your hand, arm and the side of your head, can do 40 press ups (not all at once, I'm not Fatima Whitbread!) and am pretty nifty with Belgian Rolls, despite sounding like a cake they're actually when you jump into the air with your body parallel to the ground, land on your arms and feet then roll. We also started doing them over other class members just for an added thrill. Terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

Then last night Liz, the girl I'm staying with, had her leaving party. She's moving back home to North Carolina at the end of the month and didn't want to pack a load of half empty bottles of booze so one of her friends offered to host a BBQ party for her. Great idea, but what actually happened was that Liz took all her booze over to Mary-Lee's then everyone brought wine or beer to drink and now Mary-Lee is left with all the half empty bottles of booze. Well, at least Liz doesn't have to pack them.

We had live music for most of the night courtesy of Mary-Lee and her Brazilian style band with guest trianglist, ME! I have no idea why people insist on handing me instruments at parties, I'm the girl who, in P7, was banned from actually blowing into the recorder as I was so bad at it. Mrs Morrison insisted that I balance the recorder on my chin and just practise the fingering. Scarred me for life.

Anyway, back to the triangle. It's much more difficult that you'd think. You have to hold it in one hand, releasing and holding in time with each strike so it either resonates or clinks in time with everyone else. Now my timing is fantastic, no problems there but my releasing and holding wasn't that great so when someone produced a dumbelek I claimed that instead. Much easier, no releasing or grabbing, just beat the drum in time with everyone else.

All in all a good night, Adam's BBQ technique was pretty good, Mercedes gave me a list of places to go in San Fran, her home town, Kelly offered to read my astrological chart and I got myself a part-time job as head trianglist with the band.

News Just In:
The Chicago Cultural Center have asked me to submit a proposal for their upcoming film festival based on the filming I did with the Chicago dancers, even though it won't be finished until after the deadline. With any luck I could be back here at the end of October.

Lights, Projector, Action

FireBox Dance Theatre's film, Dark Matter, was shown as part of yesterday's performance and to say I was nervous doesn't come close to covering it. I always get nervous when I'm showing something I've choreographed or produced. I'm generally fine if I'm dancing because I'm in control of my movements but when it's out of my control and it's something that I've created it's more personal. Add to that the fact that I knew my film was so enormously different from the other pieces being shown and I was cacking it!

The other pieces were very 'traditional' contemporary dance, if there is such a thing. Mindy Meyers was re-creating 2 pieces from historical contemporary dancers, Isadora Duncan and Loie Fuller, Christy Munch was presenting a piece about purging a relationship, dressed in white muslin trousers, part silence, part 'Hallelujiah' soundtrack and we were dancing in a piece by Nana with lots of imagery and a percussion soundtrack.

Then there's my film: 3 sexy-as-hell dancers gyrating in a night club to nasty, grimy techno music that repeats until you've gone beyond wanting it to change and you're getting into it again, shot in and out of focus with me in silver high heels dancing on a table.

It actually went down really well, with people seeing things in it I had never intended, noticing points that no-one else has commented on and generally just being really enthusiastic about it. One audience member loved it so much she's trying to persuade her friend, a club owner, to use it in the club one night (for a fee of course!). That might be a long shot but it'd be fantastic if it came off.

I also have to say that without Atalee, my hero, we wouldn't have got the film running at all. She came in, hung the white screen, patched up the sound and the projector, focused it all, got it looking great then dis-mantled everything at the end. Given half the day I could have probably figured it out but we had an hour and she did the job.

The best part of the night was when people started asking who Shug was. Well, for a laugh, I decided to say he was an underground DJ/musician/producer from Glasgow who takes pieces of music and turns them into something really unexpected. Now, in Glasgow that would have been met with an "Aye, right, who is he really?". In Chicago, "Yeah, y'know I kinda know that name, I think I've heard some of his stuff before. He's so cool".

So there you are, Shug, get your flight now, there's a ready-made market out here for you.

You've Got to Feel it in your Root Chakra!

Yes, all week I have been getting told that I have to feel everything in my root chakra when I dance. For those of you uninitiated in Eastern philospohies and chakras, your root chakra is your perineum, for those of you still struggling it's the bit just in front of your bum hole.

So now we have that established, try thinking of it everytime you move, even if you move your arm think about your root chakra. Not easy is it? Well, when you can't find it for yourself there's a lady in Chicago who will be more than happy to grope around until she finds it with her middle finger. This lady is Nana Shineflug, the Artistic Director of Chicago Moving Company and part of the old guard of contemporary dancers. She has been dancing since the early 60s, has had 2 knee replacements and a hip replacement and still does shoulder stands with the best of them.

Nana choreographed the piece we performed on Friday night so, along with 4 other dancers, I've been in her rehearsals having my bum felt on a regular basis. Aside from the bum feeling, the work was really interesting, very different from what I usually do, less manic yet more intense and the final piece was beautiful.

Beautiful is really the only word to describe it. The piece involved lots of imagery, again not something I normally go for but it suited this, as well as flowing phrases and group shaping. I definitely won't be influenced by her style of choreography but I actually like the effect of feeling everything from your root chakra. It gives each movement a sense of power that's really exciting to watch and dance.

Go on, give it a try...

Lincoln Park After Dark

With a tripod in hand and the weather playing along nicely the filming could finally go ahead last night. After cycling from the flat to North Shore Beach House (8.69 miles no less!) my first hurdle was trying to identify the dancers, most of whom I'd only emailed. It seems describing myself as tall, blonde and carrying a tripod wasn't clear enough but through various phone calls and a few manic introductions to complete strangers I found my dancers.

The shoot on the beach went well. As ususal there were the ideas I'd had that just didn't come off at the time and there were a few unexpected little gems discovered by accident (probably shouldn't admit to that!). The dancers, Mindy, Kay, Brat, Sarah, Jori, Kate and Ada, managed to jump, turn, kick and roll around in the sand without too many problems - dancing in sand is much harder than it looks - and we were only disturbed by the local wildlife twice.

I haven't looked at the footage yet so I'm keeping my fingers crossed I'll have enough to make into a short film piece when I get home in September and you'll be shocked/intrigued/horrified/delighted to hear that I put myself in the film this time as well, and not just my usual leg cameo either.

The film will be edited in September with a public airing at some point during the winter. Time will tell whether I make the final cut.

It's just like riding a bike.

What's just like riding a bike? I hear you ask. Well, riding a bike is just like riding a bike.

No I haven't completely lost it, today I was given a loan of a bike for the next 3 weeks. One of the dancers, Mindy, found out how much walking I was doing and that it probably wasn't helping my foot get any better so she offered me the use of her spare bike. When I say offered what I really mean is ordered.

"I've got a bike, come and pick it up and use it. Stop walking everywhere and cycle instead."

Kindness and bossiness seem to go hand in hand with people from the Mid-West. I'm not complaining though, between today and yesterday I've had one person buy a tripod for me to use and another give me her spare bike to save my gammy foot.

She's also invited me out on Saturday night to see the Neo-Futurists show again, I'm expecting at least half of the plays to have changed, and then for a drink at the Green Mill, Al Capone's old hang out which is now popular with arty types and rock musos. So it looks like I have a bike and a buddy all in one go. Fantastic.


Only one thing, between my gammy foot and the Green Mill, Breakbone is going to be even more fun than usual on Sunday!
x

Tripod Tribulations, A Sore Foot and The Hoochie-Mama Store

Having planned to film on the beach last night I then had to cancel everything because none of the tripods I had been planning on borrowing had the camera-tripod connectors with them. This was so frustrating because despite the fact that I had the choice of 4 tripods, two of which were belters, without the connector they're useless. We exhausted all the possible solutions, hiding places, who might have had them last, whether anyone had spares which would fit, and it was all fruitless.

Then, Atalee came in and saved the day. She offered to buy a brand new tripod which I could use before anyone else had a chance to lose any of the parts. She even turned up to class at 10.30am this morning to drop it off for me. How nice is that? She is amazing and my new favourite person in Chicago.

The filming has been rescheduled for next Tuesday so I'll let you know how it goes next week.

Yesterday in Cindy's class I managed to hurt my foot doing a cartwheel into a plank. I landed on the side rather than on the ball of my foot and it's been a bit niggly ever since. It's mostly painful when I'm walking on uneven surfaces, landing or twisting it which is a real pain in the proverbial when I've been walking everywhere (Chicago's pavements are worse than ours) and dancing every day. Luckily there isn't that much jumping in the class but there is a lot of handstands and cartwheel moves which are a bit tricky at the moment. It's all strapped up though and I'm expecting it to be fine by tomorrow (yes, I said that yesterday too!).

It was another grey afernoon so I decided to go dance clothes shopping. All the dancers I've met here have really nice long vests in lovely colours and soft, cotton, cropped trousers to wear to class and they all go to either Target or Discovery aka The Hoochie-Mama Store. The nearest HMS is on Pulaski at Lawrence, about 3 miles west of my flat here, so I hopped on a bus and headed out. Walking into it at first I thought I'd been had. The place makes Quiz and Logo look like they should be in Princes Sq, full of tacky, tight-fitting, nylon clothes, hence the shop's nickname, but when you head further into the shop past all the man-made fibres and lace inserts you discover a whole section of vests and jogging bottoms all really well made, nice and long, in gorgeous colours and cheap as chips. I got all this, 2 pairs of jogging bottoms and 3 tops, for 15 quid which is about the same as I'd spend on one pair of jogging bottoms at home.

More Moves than you can Shake a Tambourine at!

Since the last post I have signed up to Chicago Moving Company's Intensive, daily class every morning for 2 weeks then a performance project throughout the 2nd week; I have taken my second Breakbone class with slighter better results than the first and still no bruising; I have had the torturous pleasure of a pilates class using equipment and I have walked for miles and miles.

Today alone I walked from Hamlin Park on N Hoyne Ave to Body Endeavours on N Halsted St covering just under 3 miles, then from Body Endeavours all the way back to the flat on N Ainslie St covering a foot-throbbing 5 miles! Ok, I'm not running or swimming these distances but, apart from wandering up and down Buchanan St I never walk this far. Somehow it's easier here because the streets are full of small shops, bars and restaurants to keep me occupied. I don't have to walk past the equivalent of Parkhead stadium or an industrial estate or Bridgeton to get home, plus it's nice weather here which always makes walking more bearable.

On the dance side of things, Cindy Brandle is teaching daily at CMC. I really enjoy her classes and they seem to fly in, there's lots of long, luxurious exercises before she mixes it up with some crazy inverted, upside down, landing in a plank, tucking in, pushing up, cartwheel out of it madness. Plus we have a real live musician, Winston, to make nice noises for us.

Both Cindy and Atalee (Breakbone) have the use of the space at Hamlin Park to develop their choreographic work, teach classes and raid the resources all in exchange for teaching a few freebies a week. I think I could handle that. The space is fantastic, a large studio with proper dance flooring that can be turned into a theatre space whenever it's needed. The office has the usual dance company office clutter, books, dvds, mats, stereos, camcorders, tripods (although annoyingly, none of the camera-tripod connectors) and the building has a free outdoor swimming pool.

Thankfully they both appreciate how fortunate they are to be in this position but it's really making me determined to find a permanent space for FireBox. Something to think about.

I have managed to get a small gang of people who all want to jump around on a beach tomorrow night which is fantastic. The downside is that without a camera-tripod connector I'm a bit stuck. I have a few more options and hopefully something will come through as my hands probably aren't steady enough for 4 hours filming. I'll let you know how it goes later this week.

Pros, Cons and Pics

This pic sums up my non-dance daytimes in Chicago, lazing about on an almost deserted beach (most people have jobs, believe it or not!) working on building up my freckle collection.

To see the rest of my pics, go to www.flickr.com/photos/susanelena/

This section is completely nicked from Isla, but it's such a good idea so...

Likes

Turning right on a red - as a driver this is great, keeps traffic flowing and stops me getting frustrated waiting for lights to change when there's nobody around.
The friendliness of the people - Chicagoans have a Mid-West attitude so they might look you up and down and check out your outfit but then they'll smile and compliment you.
The exchange rate - everything is half price.
The dance community - so much going on even though it's summer and things have slowed down.
Having the beach and the city on my doorstep - it's why I loved Brighton so much and it's even better here.
Having a base for the month - feel more relaxed and more involved in life here.
The range of police vehicles - everything from roller blades - bikes - quadbikes - weird robo-cop 2 wheel stand up motorised things.
The weather - a bad day is 28C! Even I can stand the odd thunderstorm (as long as I'm indoors and it's over quickly).
Free Refills - buy one coffee, get 3 mugs full. Brilliant idea!
Getting ID'd - I know they do it to everyone but it still makes me smile when they ask for it.
Cheap, effective public transport - yeah, I know, I don't do public transport but if it was a pound a journey and I could go everywhere I wanted to 24 hours a day I might use ours more.

Dislikes

Turning right on a red - as a pedestrian this is a nightmare, the light says walk but you've got a car coming round the corner towards you. Quite nerve-wracking when it's boy-racers heading in my direction.
Perverts - enough said.
The media - the news is read out in 3 second bursts in the most dramatic way they can think of.
Roadside 'honk for X' protests - completely useless for anything other than making a lot of noise.
Policemen smoking in uniform - the majority of bars and restaurants are smoke-free yet policemen can stand around puffing away.
Tax not included - if something is a dollar it should be a dollar not a dollar on the shelf then a dollar plus tax at the cash desk. It's so irritating especially when I have no change.
Finding out about things that my Glasgow mates would love to go to but not having anyone here with the same interests - Derrick Carter.

x

Faaabulous Honey!

Having noticed those ominent back clouds approaching I decided it was probably a good idea to leave the pool and do something indoors for the rest of the afternoon. So I went to Borders to buy a California book and do some research for when I leave here. Just as I was paying, the heavens opened so instead of braving the elements I headed for the coffee shop instead.

Sitting down with my latte and slice of carrot cake, which was so huge I managed a third of it and took the rest home, I opened my book and got reading only to be interrupted by a girl looking for a seat. This was a bit strange as the cafe had several empty tables but I just reckoned that she was looking for some company or felt uncomfortable sitting by herself. It wasn't until she started dishing out the compliments and asking where I went at night and whether we could go out at the weekend that I twigged.

Sorry, I'm straight and I have a boyfriend.

Oh, ok.

Quick exit.

The place was beginning to fill up now, as it's the only place on Broadway (quite a dodgy area, was hoping the rain wasn't going to be on all night) where normal folk can sit without feeling like someone is mentally checking your mugging value, so when a policeman (in uniform) sat down with a cup of coffee I didn't think anything of it. Until he also started dishing out compliments and asking where I went at night and whether we could go out at the weekend.

Sorry, I have a boyfriend.

Oh, ok, but you know, things aren't set in stone and he may not be the right guy for you.

This time it was my turn to make a quick exit.

I knew about a gay bar across the road where I'd had a salad after a day at the beach last week and, as it was a predominantly male gay bar, I was pretty sure I wouldn't get hassled. Within about 5 minutes of ordering a drink and opening my book (ironically at the San Francisco section) a young guy wandered over...

Excuse me, I just have to say you look faaabulous honey!

I gave him the rest of my carrot cake.

x

I think I've found my new favourite dress.

(It's the green one from Forever 21)

Bugley Eyes!

My dad managed to capture this frog on top of Rainforest cafe in Chicago a week ago on an open top bus tour. It's opposite what they refer to as 'The Rock'n'Roll McDonalds' but Bryan and I call it the 'Back to the Future 2 McDonalds'. We didn't take any photos of that because it's still nasty McDonalds but the frog makes me laugh every time.

Breaking Sweat at Breakbone

On the hottest day of the year, so far, I started my classes with Breakbone. 94F or 34C is hot by anyone's standards, add to that a room with windows on 2 sides, black curtains at one end and black flooring, air conditioning units that only seem to circulate warm air and you've got one sweaty betty. In fact, there were 16 sweaty bettys all rolling round the floor leaving little pools of sweat everywhere for other people to mop up or slide on.

Now you've got the picture, the class itself was fantastic.

We started with an hour of boot camp pilates. No stopping between exercises, no explanations, straight into the leg swings and the 100s (for those of you not in the know the 100s are where you lift your head and both legs as close to the ground as possible then beat your arms downwards not quite touching the floor 100 times) followed by a sequence of stomach exercises, press ups, side bends, side dips (you balance yourself on one arm and have both feet out straight to your side - like a sideward press up position - then let your whole body dip and your shoulder lifts you back up), more press ups, lunges (I've never enjoyed lunges so much) and a few more press ups to finish us off.

By this point I've lost about 2 litres of body fluid and my head's beginning to throb.

Quick water break then onto the technique part of the class. They're not kidding when they call it Bodyslam! After a few sequential falls and rolls where you slowly figure out which parts to land on and which parts to avoid you go for it. A little hop up from squat position then land on your back or your side or your forearms. I was actually quite pleased with myself that at no point did I fall onto anything bony. A few of the falls I didn't get at all, one where you start in a bridge position (balancing on your shoulders and feet with your hips pushed up towards the ceiling), lift one leg the push your whole body onto your shoulders before landing in a foetal position. It just didn't happen at all, I understood what I was trying to do but I couldn't get my body to flip up and over like that. I am, however, a dab hand at backward falls. You start in a squat position, tiny hop up then imagine your legs being pulled away from underneath you so you land on the side of your back (either side but never your spine - ouch!).

All of this builds up until you're pushing off one hand and landing in the same positions, I think I would have done better at this if I was sure that my arms were still connected to my body and my eyes weren't swirling from dehydration.

The mark of a good class is that no matter how hard you work, if the exercises are organised and performed properly, you shouldn't have any bad aches and pains. There are good aches and pains, ie. you feel all the muscles you've been using and they need a wee bit of a stretch out but you're still able to function normally and bad aches and pains, ie. you have an angry, swollen joint that you can't get out of bed because of.

This was definitely a good class.

At the end of it, I spoke to some of the Breakbone dancers and they're interested in getting involved in a little film project while I'm out here, after all I'm going to need some material to get started on my MSc Screendance course in September.

Pervin' USA

Before I even begin this rant I'd like to point out that I have met several gentlemen while I've been here who have been friendly, welcoming and sincere (John, Phil, Kevin plus some random waiters, taxi drivers, etc) and this is in no way a reflection on them BUT why can't I walk down the street for at least a block (check the lingo!) without some pratt shouting out his window, whistling, making kiss kiss noises or just slowing down like some sleazy kerb crawler?

There are plenty of girls walking around who are prettier than me. There are plenty of girls walking around with skimpier clothes on than me. I always make sure I look like I know where I'm going even if sometimes I need to double check. I'm not the only pale girl walking around either. So why am I getting so much hassle? I haven't had so much unwanted attention since I was about 15 on holiday in Turkey and even then I didn't get some weirdo calling his mate while 'pleasuring' himself next to me on the beach.

Yes, that's right. Not only did some fat old perv come and sit next to me to 'enjoy the view' he also called his mate and described me! When I approached the life guards (at which point pervo left) they told me if he comes back they'll call the cops but they didn't even glance in my general direction after that. If it wasn't for the kindness of another family enjoying the sun I would have been left completely on my own with some sex offender lurking in the bushes.

Which I suppose takes me back to where I started, there are some very kind, decent men here such as the father who threatened to kick his butt if he ever saw him again and made me feel comfortable sunbathing next to them but there are also an awful lot of perverts.

No wonder so many people here have guns...

4th of July and I'm bored!

It's 10pm and all I can hear are fireworks. I'm tired from a fortnight of travelling around different places and I'd like to just have a glass of wine, read my book and fall asleep. Impossible. I can't even figure out where they're coming from, they seem to be all around me and I'm in a residential area so it's a bit disorientating.

My parents and my brother left today to go home while I moved all my stuff into Liz's apartment. It's really strange being in someone's house, looking through cupboards for plates and glasses, trying to figure out where the toilet rolls kept, using their computer which is in their bedroom (I do have permission to be here!) when I've never met her. She offered me her spare room to sublet for the month after I got in touch with the dance company she works for and the deal was when I arrived in Chicago I was to go and collect keys from her as she would be on holiday for a few days. When I got to the studio she teaches at she was in the middle of a class and sent an assistant down with the keys and a letter explaining the air con, computer, etc. So basically she'll get home at some point tomorrow and there will be a complete stranger sleeping in her spare room.

It's extremely trusting of her and I'm not sure I could do it for someone else - although I shoud probably concentrate on moving out of my parents' house before I start subletting rooms!

Favourite so far

Chicago is definitely my favourite place so far on this holiday. It has a great mix of city and seaside, although it's more ike a collection of small towns and it's a lake not a sea. It's probably been better here because my brother has friend's here through his band stuff and straghtaway we met up with them and were told what to do and what to avoid.

Saturday night we met up with John and Mindy, had some really nice Mexican food then went to see John's show which was fantastic. The idea is that each member of the group writes so many plays (really, really short plays - 5 minutes max) and the audience call out which play they'd like to see. Every week a member of the audience rolls a dice and they bin that number of old plays and write some new ones. The ticket price is also determined by a roll of a dice. Each person rolls the dice and they pay that amount plus $7, so it could be $8 or anything up to $13. Some of the plays were funny, some were rude (although I think a British or European company would have taken far more risks) and some were quite thought-provoking. It was a really good night and hopefully I'll see some other things they're doing during the summer.

Outside the downtown area where all the big hotels are heading towards the north of Chicago there are lots of little neighbourhoods which are quite similar to the West End or Merchant City but a lot bigger. This makes the place seem very friendly and more personal than New York. The people here are also fitness obsessed with gyms and yoga/pilates classes everywhere - even on the beach! I've found some aerial classes to go to as well as the dance stuff I already had organised. Can't wait to get started and now I've moved into my rented room I'll be able to cook normal food as well not the Giant Haystacks portions we've been getting so far.

Still in the tourist trap

The city of Toronto is lovely, very cosmpolitan, the people were really friendly and the place felt very clean and safe. We went on yet another tour, this time out on Lake Ontario. The views of the city were gorgeous but the tour guide wasn't up to much and there were lots of bored kids making a lot of noise... I think one might have gone overboard by mistake - oops!