Sport, Shop, and Stank

Rugby Last week I had the opportunity to play a classic European game. Rugby. I jumped on that opportunity real fast. I was real pumped…I had no idea how to play though. I have never played before, much less watched a game. The only thing I knew was that they used, what looks like, a football. I arrived on the field hustling, taunting, and pumping. (I don’t know what pumping means, I just had to have another –ing word and it’s the only thing I could think of. Let’s say pumping means – pumping my fists. Good.) The rules were explained and we were off. Little did we know, running our little hearts out, chasing after the first kick, that we would run into what we did. Can you please guess what it was before you read on? Have you guessed?

It was a pile, puddle, (no,) LAKE of water, mud, cow, and sheep poop! Oh you had to have known. We took off after the ball and one by one: plop, plop, plop. People were ploppin’ in poo all over the place. We saw the others go down but it was too late. We tried to pull up and stop but we hadn’t a chance. We were already slipping and sliding, praying we would be able to stay on our feet. That was an unrealistic prayer because we all knew we were going down. And we did. It splashed up to our arms and some to their faces. Screams, laughs, and cries rang out all over the pasture. It was hilarious. There was nothing left to be done except bear down, play the game, and keep our mouths closed so nothing would splash in. Never did I know of this foul attraction between my body and poo. I cannot get away from it here.

The game was, of course, really fun. And once again, another great experience (with poo).

Lancaster One of the nearest towns to school is Carnforth. But if you want good shopping stores, cafes, and restaurants, we go to Lancaster. To get there, we take the Tuesday bus for £3.50. So last week I traveled to Lancaster during my break. I was listening to music and was a bit preoccupied with my iPod. When I finally looked up, we were traveling right along the Irish Sea...it was beautiful! God is the master creator! It was so pretty I can't see how anyone can't just be in awe over the beauty around them!

Duty You may not know, that each student here has a daily duty. We have a specified (daily) duty for three weeks. After the three weeks, we get switched to a new duty. So for the students that have the nasties, like cleaning toilets, they can have a go at something else too. For the first three weeks here, my duty was in the office. For those that don't know me, I came from an office job. So this was quite familiar territory for me! I answered phones, mailed letters, ran errands, helped students, and got to make announcements on the "bing-bong". We call it the "bing-bong" due to the little jingle that plays before we make our announcement. It's brilliant. This week is week four so we switched duties. Would you like to guess my new duty? I will just tell you...rubbish. Literally and metaphorically. I take out the kitchen rubbish every morning after breakfast. I knew it probably wasn't going to be the most pleasant duty I've ever had, due to my good fortune for the first three weeks. I quickly realized, sleepiness, rubbish, and coherent-ness, do not mix well for me. I instantly learned that all rings, bracelets, and watches need to be removed, and scarves tucked in or taken off before I begin. There are roughly seven to eight rubbish bins that need to be emptied and re-bagged every meal. The grossest ones tend to be the three that students toss their uneaten food in. It usually has soggy cereal and milk splatters all over the sides; covering the tea bags and half eaten toast and yogurt. Once all are emptied, I need to return and re-bag with two (cheap) rubbish bags. Never fails, while I'm gone grabbing the rubbish bags, a student (eating late) always dim-wittedly decides to throw something in the bin without a bag in it. Really? Pet Peeve #45: If there is no rubbish bag in the bin, rubbish does not belong in it. After all that, I get the privilege of dragging the cart full of bags to the dumpster. Today I had two bins full so it shook things up a bit...made it exciting, dragging two carts at a time across the parking lot! I got to the dumpster and tossed the bags in one by one until I got to the last one. I grabbed it, pulled up, and. it. ripped. Now, inside was not any "normal" rubbish. Slowly gooing out and plopping in the bottom of the cart was, what looked like, days-old custard. A thick yellow-white milky liquid with chunks. Oh, you bet I was gagging. A kind lad happend upon me during this nightmare and ran and grabbed me a new bag. We put the leaky one inside the new and tossed it into the dumpster. I'm sure this will not be my last (or worst) rubbish story within the next three weeks, so stay tuned.

U.K. Overview

It only took two and a half weeks.

There are already things that have become second nature. I don’t even think about it, they happen naturally…

The special tweak I give the shower faucet in order for water to spray at a consistent pressure

My favorite sidewalk stone that teeters and “clunks” when I hop on it

The multiple loose sidewalk stones that shift and wobble

Number of steps from my door to the stairs

Waking up on time to turn on the hot water faucet for an extra minute to be sure the shower will be hot

How long to hold down the toilet handle to make it flush completely

I just get the feeling that it's going to rain again soon so I bring along my raincoat, just in case...I'm usually right

There are also obvious differences between our countries, the U.S. and the U.K…

The accent…duh. But did you know, North and South Brits have a different accent? The South Brits speak, what they call, the Queen’s English. The North accent isn’t as “posh” or proper as the South. Interesting? I thought so.

Driving on the opposite side of the road

Driver on the opposite side of the car

Garbage is called rubbish

French fries are called chips

Chips are called crisps

A friend is called mate

Also… “Fun, Fun, Fun, Fun, Fun, Fun, Fun, Fun, FUN FACTS!”

The toilet seats are not elongated…boy, that was a strange feeling the first time this was recognized…I will say no more.

There are Gypsies around the area…with no cars, but horse and buggy.

The peace symbol does not mean peace, quite the opposite actually; its the same as flipping someone off in America...too bad I was told a little late; after two weeks of flashing the peace sign as a friendly, “Hello!” to my fellow Brits.

“Cheers” is more common than “Thank You”

There’s no such thing as a straight road...I have learned, if it’s more than a 15 to 20 minute drive, I need to close my eyes.

All cars are compact and small. An SUV is nonexistent here.

The streets are wicked narrow! Not only narrow, but they also have eight-foot bushes or stonewall on either side of the road. From my observation, I’ve concluded…accidents can’t really be that big of a surprise to anyone here. This being due to the fact everyone here drives like maniacs. It’s madness! All our bus drivers know we are new to the country when screams and gasps ring through the whole bus every time we round a corner, slamming on the brakes!

They never say cool or pretty, but brilliant and lovely

I was at TKMaxx (Britain's TJMaxx) on Saturday…they had a big sign on the wall saying, "Two new floors of Loveliness!" How lovely is that comment?

There are Asbestos stickers in most of the showers and bathrooms.

This past weekend I watched Braveheart with a Scot. I saw the movie so differently, watching through his eyes.

We travel into any surrounding town or city, speak once, and they all assume we’re from the Carnforth Bible School.

Overall, everyone is quite laid back. They don’t get easily irritated and don’t seem to be in a rush to get anywhere.

Food Facts:

At school, chicken is just as common as water. We have had it, at least, 7 different ways. They think breading it or sticking it on a skewer stick will fool us into thinking it’s something other than chicken for the third time this week. They don’t fool me.

The food overall (at school) is bland. Almost as if they don’t believe in spices!

The pepper smells like rotten feet and dirty farm animals…it tastes just the same.

Nutella is more common than any form of Peanut Butter.

We drink whole milk here…I miss my skim.

We put milk and sugar in our coffee…they put it in their tea. I tried it…nast.

The Conclusion:

I do love it here, so far. No it’s not home, I don’t fit in with the culture naturally, but I love experiencing a different way of living.

A Walk in the Pasture

[Quick correction: Typo in my address (on last post), please correct...]

Amanda Maurer

Capernwray Bible School

Carnforth

Lancashire

LA6 1AG

England

One of the beautiful things about Capernwray, is they own 175 acres of land. So the castle is the center of it all. From the castle there is a dirt path that goes down to the creek, sheep pastures, and through two small towns.

Now each student has a specific duty that is either done daily, twice a week, once a week, or whatever. My duty is in the office; answering phone calls, making announcements on the “bing-bong” (louder speaker), running errands, etc. So earlier this week, Thursday, I had duty. While I was on duty, my friends decided to take the walk that I was itching to take that day. So I had decided I would walk the route by myself after I was done. One thing you need to understand, it has been Capri, shorts, and short sleeve weather here for the last three days. Sunshine, sunglasses, and sweat. It actually happens over here, but I keep being told, “Don’t get used to it.” So, I’m trying my best not to, even though it’s been brilliant.

Some important info you need to know: I was wearing khaki capris, ¾ length (stripped, cotton) shirt, sunglasses, and my TOMS. Also important: I had my 20D (old, I know) Canon camera hanging around my neck, and my (Mom’s) Panasonic Lumix camera in my pocket…in case any HD video was necessary.

So I took off for a relaxing stroll down the sunlit path, with Pride and Prejudice theme song playing in my head. There weren’t many people out on the path by this time, because all those crazies that think there’s something enjoyable about running to stay, what’s the word, fit? Most had already done their routine so the place was clear. I have a favorite tree on a hilltop that I was planning on spending some quality time with, but due to the fact that some lass had the gall to sit beneath and read her Bible, I decided, out of kindness I wouldn’t disturb. I pressed on and was quickly realizing that it was a much hotter day than I had originally anticipated. Due to the heat and my lack of water, I decided to take a short cut and shimmy my way through the sheep pasture.

I found the gate and climbed over with ease and grace. Now, if you’ve ever been in a sheep pasture you need to know, watch out for sheep poo. Lucky me, this pasture also had cows. So I had to watch for the little marbles AND massive patties (sorry if that description was too graphic for some). Moving on…I carefully watched my step and was sweetly talking to the sheep as I passed by. I had to talk to them to calm them because of the fact that they are pregnant. We can’t have them running all about when they have babes in their bellies. During my time with the sheep, I did recognize that they are much less cute up close than they are from far away. But that has nothing to do with this story.

I could see the castle in the distance and couldn’t wait to get there to sit under the shade. As I came over the last hill, I saw a straight shot to the castle was not an option like I’d planned. Standing between my home and me was a small barbed wire fence that left no access of escape. The only way out was a gate on the other side of the pasture. Since it was my only option, I started the trek over. On my way, there was one sheep that kept following within 25 feet behind me and she was baa-ing really loud, constantly. When she would baa all the other sheep in front of me would look at her and then at me. It was the creepiest thing…I kept telling the thing to sush up, but it seemed every time I would talk to her she would baa louder. I felt myself slowly pick up my pace just in case this sheep had any strange ideas of taking me on and charging! Just a reminder, I am by myself. I had no one to freak out with so, I will be honest, I was speed walking, watching for poo, and under my breath saying, “Oh my goodness, oh my goodness…get away, get away from me…Lord get me out of this pasture…please don’t let them charge…I can’t breath, I can’t breath.”

Now…I was about 100 steps from freedom, still speed walking (in my TOMS), Canon around my neck, carrying it in my right hand, small camera in right pocket, and all of a sudden…SPLOOSH. Not splash…sploosh because it was so thick. My left foot sank to the bottom of an unnoticeable, unnatural, hidden, pond! The water came half way up my shin, JUST below the rim of my capris. There was no warning, no sign, and it was honestly completely out of nowhere! It didn’t belong there obviously, but you couldn’t see there was any water at all. So naturally, this caused me to end up unbalanced and my momentum took my right foot straight in front of me sinking it to the bottom as well. The bottom was pure sludge mud so I kept getting stuck. I was all by myself screaming, laughing, and crying all at the same time. I couldn’t believe it was happening to me! That was the last thing I needed due to the fact, these are the only shoes I have to wear besides tennis shoes! I can’t wear tennis shoes with classy outfits! There was no way out of this mess (or pasture) without just going through it. I was using as many leg muscles as I had pulling my feet out of the mud sloshing along. I took two steps when I realized…this is not just water. Floating all around me, on my bare skin were sheep turds and massive cow PATTIES OF POOP! So I was screaming and not breathing at the same time trying to run, but I couldn’t because I didn’t want any poop to splash on my pants! After what felt like an eternity, I got to the gate, climbed over and made it to solid gravel road. Now I had the pleasure of walking another half mile up to the castle in poop filled shoes. Every step I took was squishy and I could only imagine what was squeezing between my toes with every step. I passed a good portion of walkers and runners on my way back up, giving each a friendly nod, smile, and, “Hello!” pretending like nothing was wrong at all.

I got back to my home, kicked off my shoes, wiped my feet on the pavement while trying not to look or breath, and picked them up trying to balance them on only two fingernails. I ran into my room (on my tip toes), jumped onto the counter and started washing the poop particles off my feet and legs with soap, five times. Then I had the lovely pleasure of trying to salvage my poor TOMS. I ran boiling water over them for a good ten minutes I suppose. I set them outside because they couldn’t fester in my room overnight. The next day I got laundry detergent and washed them, and only them, immediately in boiling hot water. Dried them for 20 minutes, shrunk them a bit, and set them out in the sun to dry the rest of the way. They no longer smell like poop, only shrunk a bit, are a little bleached from the sun, but basically brand new. They were saved. So I am now in the market for a new pair of shoes that are going to last me the winter. These poor things won’t make it for too much longer. Especially following this tragic event, I feel like I need to apologize to them everyday I slip them on. They had no idea what they were going to go through that day I decided to just take a walk.

Another one of those experiences where the only good thing about it, is the story I got from it. My TOMS are now no longer called, TOMS. They are now called, Amanda’s Poo Shoes. And everyone who knows the story also refers to them in this way.

Poo particles stuck on shoes