Some pictures of some birds

Winter lasted longer than usual in Miami this year, but the weather broke last week, and it's back to sunshine and shorts. So Saturday morning found me in the hammock, in the garden, doing some reading. An odd tapping noise was distracting me slightly. Sounded like a woodpecker. Turns out it was two woodpeckers.Our garden's not much of a bird haven. Too many cats. We get a few blue jays, which are unremarkable; they look sort of like fat blue tits. Flocks of macaws fly overhead now and again. Sometimes, they all settle in a tree and do some screeching. Same in my last house, where this one was taken.
The macaws and the jays are quite common here. The other two species that you see regularly are ibises and turkey vultures. The ibises strut around everywhere. The mascot of the University of Miami is an ibis.
The vultures are normally way up in the thermals. You sometimes see them on the ground squabbling over roadkill, and you realise that they're very big birds indeed. The first football league I played in here was held on some pitches in the middle of a golf course, so there was lots of open space, and the vultures flew lower, circling above the playing area. There's something disconcerting about running yourself into the ground in 30 degree heat, feeling like you might die quite soon, with scavengers floating about above you ready to descend when you drop.

In other wildlife news, manatees have been spotted on campus. I'm on the lookout for them, and also for a good alligator photo; I never have a camera when I see one. Watch this space.

Stuporbowl

I have a Facebook 'friend' who seems, in the eight years or so since I last saw him, to have developed a predilection for American football. I know this because it's one of the three themes of his semi-literate status updates. The other two are stories of his child (who may well be charming), and manifestations of his taste in music (which is apparently execrable).

I imagine he, like me, watched the Superbowl last night. But he probably didn't watch it with about 150 other people in his landlord's back garden. Our landlord lives just down the street from us, and has apparently being putting on an annual Superbowl extravaganza for 20 years or so. He'd hired a massive flatscreen telly, got a load of seating, laid on a quite ample amount of food and beer, and invited over about everyone he could think of, it seemed. At half time, there was some prize-giving ceremony that I could make neither head nor tail of, and a massive firework display in the middle of the street.

So, yeah, people make a real fuss over this (can you imagine a similar event in the UK for the FA cup final?). The actual game seems almost incidental, which is handy, because there's not much actual game to go on. This was the first time I'd watched a full match, and what's crazy is how long the thing lasts relative to the amount of time they actually play. A game lasts for four 15-minute quarters, but because of the amount of stoppages, length of halftime, and so on, that hour stretches to something like three. And all of the breaks in play are filled with advertisements. Not just a quick one, either, but usually a full break's worth of three or four. This means that it can be quite hard to follow the progress of the game, since by the time it restarts, you can hardly remember what was going on before. I can usually watch pretty much any sport on telly and get interested (though not to the extent of an ex-roommate who could get properly involved with absolutely anything; I balk at golf), but the lack of continuity makes it hard.

Luckily, despite barely watching any, I do somehow know at least roughly the rules of the game. I think this is some long-buried memory from the time in the 80s or early 90s when there was a brief attempt to make the game popular in the UK. I remember buying a book on American football at a Blue Peter bring-and-buy sale across the road, so perhaps that's where my familiarity stems from. Incidentally, at that time, the best team in the US were the Miami Dolphins, which I think explains why most people in the UK can still remember their name despite the fact that since then, they've apparently been consistently awful.

So I could follow the game without peppering whoever was standing next to me with annoying questions, and from what I could tell, it was a pretty good one. Back and forth, and a last-minute winner. I don't think I'm going to be making a habit of watching American football - though I really ought to go to a game some time - but it was quite a fun experience, all in all. If only I could find a 150-strong crowd of people with whom I could watch the forthcoming West Indies-England Test series. Unfortunately, I think I'll struggle to find one person who cares. Sigh.

A few connected thoughts.

Following comment and criticism from both my regular readers, I've resolved to be less concerned with writing long-ish, careful pieces here, and more directed towards actually updating the thing regularly, even if it seems a little slapdash See how long that lasts.

Anyway, having spent the holiday in the UK, I'm now back in Miami, having added another couple of transatlantic flights to my list of climate crimes. Airports and aeroplanes have a strange effect on me. Everything seems to become disconnected in my head, more immediate and visceral. I'm not sure why. Something, perhaps, to do with the peculiar stasis of transit; hours (many of them) sat still, uncommunicative and unreachable, headphones jammed in to drown out the other people. So here, in no particular order, are some vaguely connected thoughts that occurred to me on my way back here last Tuesday.

Regarding the men's toilets at the departure gates at Heathrow: how deludedly optimistic would one have to be to buy condoms immediately before flying?

On the subject of the third runway: it's not the fact that they've decided to build the wretched thing that makes me angry. Well, it does, but what really makes me angry is that it's been obvious ever since the idea was first mooted that this was going to be the outcome. How long ago was that? Three years, four? Since when, we've had inquiries, consultations, coy statements from ministers about how no final decision had been reached, all this verbiage and money and time wasted in an attempt to... to what? To convince the population at large that this wasn't a foregone conclusion? It depresses me that they think anyone was convinced by it all. Why not just do it? Same with everything else: privatising the post office, building new nuclear plants, and so on. Give up on the sham 'listening' or whatever, save us all the bother, and just do what's going to be done in the end anyway.

In-flight entertainment: the last Woody Allen film ("Vicky Cristina Barcelona") might be a wonderful piece of cinema, considered as a whole, but the first half hour is so execrable that I had to stop watching it, so I couldn't tell you. Linked to the comments above about the experience of flying, it seems that my reactions to films are sharpened considerably. I'm either utterly engrossed, or totally turned off. Examples: "I'm Not There", on the way back here this time, had me wishing fiercely that I could be any of the pseudo-Dylans featured, in a way that I've not reacted to a film character since I was young and impressionable. "Juno", a couple of flights ago, I couldn't stomach, though I'd digested it quite happily the first time round in the cinema. And so on.

Terminal 5: is wonderful. Seriously, both arriving and departing are smooth, quick, and easy. Compared to the horrible Miami International, where the weary traveller is greeted by an hour-long queue for passport control and then spat out into a chaotic underground mess of moving vehicles, Heathrow is just lovely.

I think that's enough of that. New rambling tone established. As I said, I'll try to be more regular about all this... Until I get bored. Or you do.

Fat bottomed girls

As those of you unfortunate enough to be familiar with Queen's work will have realised from the title, this is a companion to the post I wrote a while ago that maybe should have been called "I want to ride my bicycle". I forwarded that to a couple of bike-trainer type people I know, both of whom chastised me gently for my pusillanimous habit of riding on the pavement. Well, hopefully they will be glad to know that these days, I play in the traffic.

I'm cycling more this year. The route in to uni is a lot more agreeable. I'm closer by two miles or so, but more importantly, it's easy to get onto a cycle path. Previously, I had to go half a mile along a six-lane road, then negotiate a maze round a shopping mall, then dodge round some back streets, before finally joining the metropath (a cycle path that follows roughly along the North-South route of the Metrorail). From my house now, though, I have a quick 100 yards or so along a similar road, before I can cross it and join the same metropath. From there, it's a straight 2.5 mile blast to university. The path, admittedly, is far from ideal. The surface is awful in places, it includes chicanes for no apparent reason, and the junctions with roads are all set up for the convenience of motor traffic, meaning frustrating detours. But compared to last year, it's a great ride, the main risk being that one forgets to take it easy, starts imagining oneself as being in the final stages of a Tour de France stage, and arrives at university looking far from elegant; it's impossible to cycle at any speed here without becoming drenched in sweat.

My main ride of the week, though, is to Fairchild. Like last year, I have no other way to get there, public transport to the garden being pretty much non-existent. Unlike last year, it's now almost 7 miles from where I live. The way I take is, in many ways, lovely. I go through Coconut Grove, a pleasant shopping-type area, join the oddly-named Main Highway (nothing Main about it, not much of a Highway), and from there, go along Ingram Highway and Old Cutler Road. All three roads are tunnel-like, arched over with massive tropical trees, and since they're slightly away from the main urban parts of the city, great for wildlife. I regularly see iguanas, snakes, crabs, sometimes turtles. There's two enormous orange iguanas that I see every week, and one day, I'll remember to take a camera and photograph them (in the meantime, there's a picture at the end of this of a dragonfly in my back garden).

However, both Main and Ingram highways have no cycle lanes, no pavements, nothing. Old Cutler Road does have a cycle path of sorts, but it's far worse than the metropath, a humpbacked, bumpy ride over tree roots and through patches of sand and gravel, more like an offroad track than anything else. But the only alternative routes would add a mile or more to my journey, so I brave it. And it did feel brave, the first couple of times. All the roads are narrow - one lane each way - and the traffic is, of course, made up of impatient drivers, mainly of SUVs, 4x4s, hummers, pickups, and the like.

After a while, though, it turns out that the cycle-trainers were right. You get confident, quickly. These days, I'm a badass aggressive biker. If someone in a hurry is behind me, itching to overtake, frustrated by traffic coming the other way, I don't care. I don't huddle myself as close to the edge of the road as possible; I move further towards the centre and make it clear that he is not getting past me until the other lane is clear. I ride with earphones in, at low enough volume that I can hear traffic noise, but I was loath to do that initially. I've even adopted the unspoken rules of Florida driving, along with the codified ones. Amber lights, here, do not mean "slow down and stop".

All this road cycling is seen as somewhat silly by some of my peers. Several cycle, but all are terrified of the roads, and admittedly with some reason. Cyclists do die here, not too infrequently. But most of these accidents happen at night, or on very busy roads, and I feel perfectly safe on the ones I use. The only thing is, the increase in the miles I'm covering on my bike is leading to expensive thoughts. The problems with what I'm riding now are twofold. Firstly, it's too small for me. I didn't really care when I got it, given that it only cost $35, but now that I'm riding it more, it's beginning to grate. Secondly, it's inappropriate for the cycling I'm doing. It has a heavy mountain bike frame and 15 gears; I ride almost entirely on concrete or tarmac, and occasionally, if I'm feeling lazy, I change down from the highest gear to get up the landscaped hump on the uni campus, the only incline I ever encounter. And so, thoughts turn to a nice, lightweight, road bike frame, properly sized to own my gangly, lightweight frame... another item on the ever-growing list of stuff to buy. Sigh.

Anyway, as promised, here is a dragonfly in my back garden.

And here is a plug: There is a great show on, of all things, Aberdeen student radio that you should listen to. It's on Tuesday, 9-10pm. But more excitingly, you can download MPfrees of the thing here, and grab a tracklisting, and listen when you want. What are you waiting for? Show the man some love...

God was in the building

Last Friday, Barack Obama held a "women's rally for the change we need" at the University of Miami. Despite being neither a woman nor an American voter, I managed to secure a ticket, by virtue of responding to am email quickly. Can you imagine 8000 tickets, even free ones, to go and hear any British politician speak being snapped up in a few hours by the student body at any UK institution? That's what happens here, and several people I know who were far more clearly within the target audience than me missed out.

So with their imprecations in mind, I refused to be daunted when I arrived at the venue, 15 minutes before the doors opened, to find a queue snaking along several roads. I had completely failed to meet the two friends I was supposed to meeting, but luckily, ran into another couple in the queue. Luckily, because once we'd got past the airport-style security, we found we had a while to wait until the main event. Without someone else to trade cynical comments with, I'd have been forced to listen to the warm up acts attentively.

We were seated by about 10:15am. The man himself was due on at 11:45 (though in true rock star style, he was late on stage). In the meantime, we were treated to a selection of local dignitaries, legislators, and the like - all women - indulging in an array of McCain-mashing, Barack-bigging, and rabble-rousing. It looked like all my preconceptions about American politics were going to be confirmed. The speeches were punctuated by rapturous applause, chants, and cheers. The name 'McCain' was greeted in the style of a pantomime villain. We were asked, amongst other things, to join in prayer for something or other, stand and recite the Pledge of Allegiance, and shout slogans in unison. In between speakers, we were treated to a soundtrack of U2 and Stevie Wonder. It was loud, manic, rhetorical, and almost entirely vacuous.

Then, at last, Obama took to the platform, pausing on the way to shake hands, hugging his support acts, grinning broadly, looking energetic. He had to appeal several times for enough quiet to begin speaking, and throughout his speech, was interrupted by (and occasionally responded to) shouts of 'Barack, I love you!' and the like. It really is about personalities here, and people attach themselves strongly to their politicians. Again, can you see Cameron, Brown, or Clegg having to deal with such interjections?

Since it's about personalities, it was no surprise that the first portion of Obama's speech was based around personal anecdotes. The theme was women's issues, and each one he discussed was set up by a story about his mother, or someone he knew, or his wife, or his children. At this point, I was smugly ticking off my list of expectations. Anecdotes, vague promises, rhetoric, issues addressed in general terms... but no policy, content, or the like.

The second half, though, changed this. Obama went on to talk about actual policy, about what he might do to address the issues he was discussing. Or at least, that was the impression one got. But, thinking back, there was a curious disconnect between the two halves. Although he mentioned a fair pay act, and pledged to support Roe vs Wade (and thus abortion rights), most of the policy stuff was about the economy, the tax system, a bit about renewable energy... all quite laudable, but nothing really to do with the issues he had previously brought up. The neat trick was that it was hard to notice this, the speech flowed so smoothly.

On the other hand, I was surprised at how often he stumbled, hesitated, lost his place, and so on. This wasn't the practised orator I was expecting. He seemed far less polished, far less certain, then I imagined American politicians had to be. He was, it seemed, genuinely put off by a brief interruption from some crackpot protestors who were escorted from the building by some fearsome looking security types. You'd have thought he'd have learnt to take such things in his stride.

I don't know that I can I say my prejudices about politics here were dispelled by seeing all this. The whole thing was so much more managed, so much less about conversation and more about conversion, than any encounter I've had with British politicians (and I think they're generally awful too). But as Obama left the stage to the strains of "Signed, Sealed, Delivered, I'm Yours" (?!), I was somewhat reassured. The guy seems credible, intelligent, a person genuinely concerned with the right problems and somewhere in the ballpark of the right solutions. And, given how so many people here react to his campaign, it's impossible not to get caught up in it all slightly, and hope that his election may bring some significant changes for the better in both America and in the wider world.

He's going to lose, isn't he?

Start, stop, back, forth

I've been back here a month now, nearly, and it doesn't quite feel like I've begun the new school year properly yet. The past four weeks have been somewhat disjointed. The semester itself has had an odd stop-start quality; the first day was a Wednesday, then there was a bank holiday, an extra day or two off owing to (unnecessary, luckily) hurricane precautions... and more than all that, I spent a week recently in Poland at a conference. Completely ridiculous: I spent three weeks back in Miami before getting on yet another transatlantic flight, and was in Europe just long enough to conquer jet lag before returning. I did, jokingly, ask if I could extend my summer break by three weeks and cut out the big travel times, but since I'm teaching this semester, that wasn't at all possible (that's going fine, I'll write about it later in the semester).

The Poland trip was good. I wasn't particularly looking forward to the flying, but that was OK, I had a row of seats to myself on the way back which is a godsend on a 10 hour flight. Though if Air Berlin/LTU continue to run Dusseldorf-Miami flights half-empty, I suspect they may go the way of Zoom soon. I stayed a night in Berlin on the way there, and on the way back, which was lovely, just because I was staying with a friend who I had meant to visit during the summer but hadn't due to lack of time, money, and organisation. Better brief than nothing at all.

The conference took place in a tiny town called Kazimierz Dolny, on the banks of the Vistula, near Lublin, about a two hour drive south-east of Warsaw. I got there by first, a train from Berlin to Warsaw (six hours, unremarkable) and then a bus laid on by the conference organisers to save us a struggle with Polish public transport. It would have been a struggle, too, because Kazimierz is not on the beaten track. It's a popular weekend destination for Poles, but not at all on the international tourist radar.

Perhaps it should be, because it's rather charming. It's about the size of Ambleside, but considerably prettier architecturally, and with a rich local history encompassing plagues, ghost stories, tales of the old Polish kings, and of course the horrific recent past, from the Holocaust to the Communist era. The town dates from the 15th century, and became rich during the 16th owing to its position as the most convenient place for grain from the fertile soils in and near the Ukraine to be loaded onto barges and sent to Warsaw or Krakow. It's renowned as a destination for artists, and surrounded by ten km of canyons packed into a single square km.

Unfortunately, I didn't get much chance to explore them, because (despite what some have suggested) this was not a holiday. The conference was intensive; most of the above was gleaned during the single free session programmed, during which we were treated to a guided tour by a woman with the most fearsome painted eyebrows I've ever seen. The rest was solid philosophy, 8:30am to 6pm, and since it was a small event, a workshop rather than a conference, the option of sneaking off for an hour or two wasn't really available. Still, all the work was rewarding, and we did get a chance to eat plenty of Polish food. Hearty, I think, is the best word.

Anyway, I've been back here since Thursday, and after a dull weekend catching up on my reading and going to bed at 10pm (jet lag again), I'm now ready to engage with the new year properly. Main aims: expand my social circle and range of activities, and find something insightful to say about the elections. I'll let you know how I get on.

Our house, and all the other obvious ones

So, back in Miami for the new year, and a lot of things are just as startling as the first time. The palm trees, the lizards, the early, sudden nightfalls; I'm being surprised by it all over again. The night I got here, I was greeted by heavy rain. Two days later, an enormous thunderstorm. I'd forgotten just how damn enormous they are.

One thing that isn't striking me so much is the temperature. Though it's undeniably hot, and humid, it feels more like a duvet than a blast furnace. I noticed whilst in the UK that I was feeling the heat less. Perhaps I'm setting myself up for a lifetime wrapped in blankets as soon as autumn rolls round.

I've moved into a new house with three others (two yet to return from summer holidays). No longer a lodger. If you want the address, email me. It's a one storey place, built in 1939, so ancient by Miami standards (the oldest building here was built in 1877). The garden is huge, with a fairly parched lawn, plenty of trees - oak, palms, mango, avocado - and a jacuzzi. Yes, really. The interior is sizable, in generally good nick, but at the moment it all still feels a little provisional. The place came unfurnished, like most houses here, and though the landlord has donated a miscellany of old furniture, there's some way to go till it feels like a home. Interesting how priorities can vary so much; one of my housemates has been here for two or three weeks now, and has sorted out all the things he needs to work from home, but has managed quite happily without a saucepan.

So I've been spending some time trying to acquire a fair range of household goods. This is harder than it sounds. I'm much better located than I was last year, closer to one of the main shopping areas of the city, but that's 'shopping' in the leisure sense. Coconut Grove is not the place to buy kitchenware or coffee tables. Annoyingly, the place I lived in last year was; it was the day-to-day stuff that was maddeningly hard to get hold of there.

Choosing what to buy involves a bit of a delicate decision making. I'm normally of the mindset that it's worth spending a bit more on things you're going to use often, like pans, to get something that's going to last. But I'm well aware that (hopefully) I'm not going to be here longer than four more years, and there's no way I'm going to be shipping stuff like that back to the UK. So I'm trying to pick out the items that will last the distance, but not much more, and save some money by doing so. Mind, there's still things that I'm sorely tempted to pay top dollar for. Kitchen knives, for example. I mean, they're portable, right? I could bring them back...

All in all, I think that once I'm settled, nested, this is going to be a great place to live. I went for a walk around the area earlier today to remind myself what was here, looking with a resident's eyes - I've only ever been here to go for a drink or to the cinema. Everything's much handier than last year; closer to the metro, to a supermarket, to bars, to interesting and useful places to shop. And of course, I'm much better set up to accommodate guests. I've spent a fair bit of the summer sleeping in various spare rooms or on sofas, and someday, I hope that I can reciprocate some of that hospitality (though you're not disqualified from visiting if I haven't graced your home with my comatose presence).

Anyway, I must go; I need to check how high the bidding's gone on a secondhand set of Globals...