Falklands Playlist

I was working on my thesis this weekend and dusted off my Falklands playlist from last summer, so I thought I'd share it. For one reason or another, these songs remind me of the Falklands. Some of them I still hear on the radio fairly often and they always make me smile. I never hear the Wurzels played anywhere. A few of these were on heavy rotation pretty much everywhere last summer. Still - I'm amazed that I didn't hear Gangham Style until October.

Rolling in the Deep - Adele

Poison - Alice Cooper

Bruises - Chairlift

Titanium - David Guetta feat. Sia

Shake It Out - Florence + the Machine

 We Are Young - Fun. feat. Janelle Monae

Call Me Maybe - Carly Rae Jepsen

          Somebody That I Used to Know - Gotye feat. Kimbra

And I Remember Every Kiss - Jens Lekman

Part of Me - Katy Perry

Torn - Natalie Imbruglia

Back In Control - Sabaton

Girls With Boyfriends - the Extraordinaires

Falling Slowly - Glen Hansard & Marketa Irglova

Make Me Smile (Come Up and See Me) - Steve Harley

I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles) - The Proclaimers

Valerie - Amy Winehouse

Not Fair - Lily Allen

A Thousand Years - Christina Perri

The Magic Position - Patrick Wolf

She's So Lovely - Scouting for Girls

Or Something - Speechwriters LLC

Where Have You Been - Rihanna

Combine Harvester - The Wurzels

Spring Semester Round-up

Alright. We're now three weeks into the spring semester and I think it's time for a short post about what I'm up. This fall was rough - so rough I ended up taking two incompletes.

All the books I used during the Fall 2012 semester.

However, this semester I'm only taking  two classes. For my last traditional history course I'm spending one night a week in a basement learning about the Holocaust. I chose this class because the Holocaust remains a hot topic for public history across the country, interpreted by a wide variety of institutions, organizations, and individuals. The other course is already one of the best I have taken at NMSU -  Museum Conservation Techniques I. We have lecture on Tuesdays and then lab on Thursdays, where we get to practice what we've learned. The final product for the semester is an actual conservation report about the pot on which we have tested the interactions of a variety of resins, paints, and solvents.

My terracotta pot, currently with 3 different paints and 5 different resins.

I am also taking the first three credits for my thesis, which I plan to finish during the Fall 2013 semester, wherever I may be. Inspired by my work in the Falkland Islands, I am examining the effects of place on the formation of Kelper identity. Of course, this all depends on finding enough sources to produce something of sufficient length. Fortunately, I have a back-up thesis. I'm currently working on an article about Josephine Foster, but I think there is more than enough information for a longer work if necessary.

My time in the Falklands has now popped up around the NMSU website:

• The Center for Latin American & Border Studies mentioned me in the Summer 2012 edition of the Nason House News.

•  There's now a picture of me with the Super Puma helicopter on the main page for the History department's graduate program.

• And the Public History program's site also features a blurb about me. It's pretty neat that I get to represent the department this much.

As usual, I'm also engaged in a number of other projects. Next week I lecture to a class on Central America about piracy in the Caribbean. Can you believe I was actually assigned that topic? This will probably be my last lecture at NMSU, so I'm hoping it goes well. I'm also working on content about Las Cruces for Next Exit History, in anticipation of a workshop coming up later this month. I've also got some conferences coming up. We are hosting the local Phi Alpha Theta conference in March. I'm not sure I'm going to present this year, but I'm definitely planning to attend. April, however, is going to be insane. I'm giving a talk about the Falkland Islands that first Tuesday, and then there are two conference that third week. First, NMSU is hosting the 2013 Bridging Ages Conference, which deals with "Historic Environment Education and Living History." I'm participating on a panel concerned with costuming for living history, focusing on how people can assemble period-like clothing without spending a fortune. Second, the National Council on Public History is holding their conference in Ottawa that week. It's much too late for me to present anything, but I'd like to go just to see what the rest of my field is up to.

Oh, remember what I said about experiential history? Lauren over at American Duchess is currently doing some herself, experimenting with the effects of daily corset wear. She's made some fantastic observations during the first couple of weeks - well worth checking it out. 

Sad to Leave, Happy to Go Home: July 27 - 30

I spent Friday morning at the museum finishing up my work, before hitching a ride across town to the Narrows Bar. The guys were heading up to Elephant Beach for a hunting weekend so we got together for lunch before they left (Vanessa and Paula came, too). The fish and chips was awesome - really good batter and Joss let us have salad instead of mushy peas. We also played a few rounds of pool, including my first victory. I actually beat Steve! Steve and Joss also surprised me with...FACE CAKE!!!

Face Cake...so delicious!

I was sad to say goodbye, but I had to get back to the museum. The ladies were excited to share my face cake and gave me a book of beautiful Falklands photographs. I did a last bit of shopping too, stocking up on books and another batch of small gifts/souvenirs. There was just enough time for me to catch Sam at the radio station to pick up a copy of my interview and say goodbye to her. Debs had already claimed me for friday night, so a few hours later I called a cab to her current abode on the other side of town, bearing the last of the face cake and a couple bottles of wine. The Olympic Opening Ceremony was on in the background, but the main event was an Asian potluck dinner. I'd only met a few of the other guests before (most were from the Fisheries), but it was a good bunch and they brought some delicious food. I even got to try some raw toothfish (aka Chilean Sea Bass). Unplanned by Debs was the extremely difficult quiz conducted by a mad Russian scientist. Paul wisely fled to the pubs. I stuck it out, so I missed seeing some of the Chilean girls, but I got to spend more time with Debs. I got a cab home and called it an early night.

As an experienced traveler I put off packing until Saturday morning. I still finished very quickly, leaving nothing to do but sit, wait, and discuss the Falklands with my hosts. Alex was headed to Chile for a week on the same flight so I got a ride to MPA with him and Vanessa. The road was in pretty rough shape and Alex's truck was completely covered in mud by the time we got there. And so was my suitcase that had been in the back. The first flight was uneventful. I said goodbye to Alex in Pumta Arenas and got a cab to my hotel in the center of town. Thus began my adventures in Spanglish. The guy working the front desk did not speak English, but we muddled through and he got me checked into my room. It was awesome, had a balcony, and made me feel like a princess! Back at the front desk I asked "donde cena?" and got directions to a restaurant. Out on the street, I found it, but it wasn't open yet so I moved onto a coffee shop for a chicken sandwich with tomato and avacado. Yummy!

My Punta Arenas hotel. My room is the one with the
balcony and the lights on.

My hotel room!

View of the Plaza from my balcony.

More view from my balcony.

Me, on my balcony in Punta Arenas.

My flight to Santiago the next day allowed me to sleep in and the hotel's breakfast made a good start to the day. Sunday went without incident until I reached the American Airlines counter in Santiago. I had to clear the domestic area, collect my luggage, and then check in again on the international side of the airport. The very helpful lady at the AA counter informed me that my flight to Dallas had been delayed for six hours and offered me several options. I decided to wait it out, but she rebooked my connecting flight and gave me $20 voucher to get some dinner. The international terminal was much better equipped than the domestic terminal and I had a decent sit-down dinner. The beat part? I got their wifi password so as long as I stayed in  range I had internet. I wandered, snacked, surfed, and napped the hours away. Apparently I didn't nap too much as I managed to sleep all the way to Dallas. Finally back in the States I was a bit overwhelmed by the heat, sun, and the large number of people surrounding me. However, customs was kind enough to clean my shoes. Since the Falklands is basically one giant farm and NMSU is an agriculture school I figured better safe than sorry. My final flight I the journey came with a nice surprise - the only  seat the AA agent in Santiago had been able to book me was in first class. I was so exhausted that I didn't really get to enjoy it, but the extra space was appreciated. Eric met me at the airport with roses and he didn't even have to go back to work. I was so out of it that I wasn't entirely sure what day it was. Oh, and my first meal at home? A veggie burrito from Chipotle.

Loose Ends: July 20 - 26

My last weekend in the Falklands was seriously epic. Friday night presented the dilemma of poker night vs. pub quiz. Debs was putting together a pub quiz team, but there was an unfortunate bit of confusion. When I texted her on Friday morning to confirm I learned that Mike had taken the last spot on the team 30 minutes earlier. This confused me a bit as Mike was supposed to be playing poker. As it turns out, poker night was cancelled before I decided to do the pub quiz instead. In any case I walked all the way to the Narrows Bar to cheer on my friends. As it turned out, Debs played with her surrogate Falklands parents opening up a spot on the team with Mike, Paul, Andy P, Roddy, and Paula. The quiz felt like it would never end, but it was pretty fun. Besides the standard trivia rounds, we also had to make a potato into a recognizable famous person. We were not alone in our decision to create Mr. Potato Hitler. After the quiz finally concluded we were rather surprised to learn that we had won. Huh. That was unexpected and we owe it to Paul's origami frog which defeated all the other teams' frogs. Our tangible prizes were a couple of bottles of wine and a box of chocolates, but I think the bragging rights were the best part. We went off to celebrate our victory at Deano's.

Our Hitler is the one with the Argentine flag.

I walked into town on Saturday to do some souvenir shopping and loaded up with Falklands swag, including a giant flag for my office, small gifts for professors/family/friends, and a "Keep Calm and Keep the Falklands British" t-shirt. I am currently hatching a plot to wear the last item to a Morrissey concert in November. I haven't decided whether or not I'm going as I am torn between my love for the Smiths and my love for the Falklands.* In any case, if I go to the concert I will proudly don said shirt. As usual, the evening's festivities started at the Vic, where I found myself faced with multiple options. First, a birthday party for someone I kind of knew at Andy P's house (I was invited by Andy P, but not the birthday girl). Or another night at the Trough. I delayed making my decision by dancing at Deano's, but ended up at Andy P's, where there was a great spread of food, good music courtesy of two Pauls, and more dancing. I distinctly remember getting to samba to Lily Allen's "Not Fair." All in all, it was a great night.

The weekend's fun continued on Sunday with an asado at Alex and Vanessa's house. Basically a Chilean barbecue with a giant slab of meat. Everyone brought something to share and we spent the afternoon cooking, eating, and drinking. As I don't exactly cook particularly well I was tasked with squeezing lemons and limes for Pisco Sours. I must have done my job well as the resulting drinks were delicious. I still need to check to see if I can get Pisco in this area. I also learned how to make the ridiculously obvious snack called "choripan" (chorizo + bread). I felt almost as stupid as that time I asked when Cinco de Mayo was when I asked what went into a choripan. Eventually the slab of meat was deemed ready to eat and we were allowed to go inside. It was definitely worth the wait. Oh, and we were joined that afternoon by an American PhD candidate in anthropology considering writing his dissertation on the economics of the Falkland Islands. It seems I'm not the only one who noticed a serious gap in scholarship. 

The delicious slab of meat on the grill.

Everyone bundled up to brave the cold and watch the meat cook.

On Monday morning I returned to transcription at the museum and found that Leona was also back after she had been out the previous week with a punctured eardrum. Ouch. My transcription was interrupted by a visit from Jay, the American anthropologist, who had mentioned that he might stop by the museum. As he hasn't yet made the final decision whether or not to write about the Falklands, I introduced him to Leona and Tansy over at the Archives. With introductions made and research discussed, I took Jay into town for some lunch and to check out the Falklands 30 exhibit. Tuesday and Wednesday meant even more transcription as I worked to complete my deliverable by the end of the week. I finished early on Wednesday in order to do a short interview for the Falkland Islands Radio Service.

My FIRS interview with the lovely Samantha Addison. Just in case you're wondering, 

not all Falkland Islanders sound like her. Sam is from Yorkshire.

Wednesday was also my last steak night and as such became my first pseudo-going-away party. When I showed up to the Vic pretty much everyone I cared about was already there - it was pretty awesome. However, I noticed that no one had ordered any steaks. Apparently the steak portion of the evening had been cancelled due to a migraine. Steve and Mike solved this problem by fetching everyone fish and chips from down the street. With or without steak, it was a great night and we closed the pub. I got up early Thursday morning as the museum had arranged for me to go on a FIGAS round robin. The Falkland Islands Government Air Service offers flights within the Islands on the very small Britten Norman Islander aircraft. 

A FIGAS plane (from the Falkland Islands Tourist Board).

The round robin option allowed me to ride shotgun for the morning itinerary of one of the five planes. We flew from Stanley to Port Howard, Pebble Island, Carcass Island, and then back to Stanley. The first landing was rough as snow was falling in Port Howard, but the flight was pretty smooth after that. I got an incredible view of several islands and was only airsick twice. Unfortunately, I didn't get very many pictures as I was concentrating on the scenery around me and trying not to be sick again.

Carcass Island. The last stop on my round-robin flight around the Islands.

*Read this story to find out why my love of the Smiths conflicts with my love of the Falklands.

Get to the Chopper: July 13 - 19

This next week continued the transcription holding pattern I'd established during the previous week. I worked from home on Friday to do laundry and then headed to the Vic after dinner. The after party that night ended up at Paul's, where dancing ensued. Apparently, I wore myself out as I slept for most of Saturday. That was a Trough night, so I'm glad I was well-rested as I had plenty of energy for more dancing, though no one had much energy after the Trough closed. A few of us went to Paul's, but we just sat around for a little while. The rest of the week really was just endless transcription - at the museum during the day and at home in the evenings. I did finally get back to the Falklands 30 exhibit to take pictures, though. I also checked in with the library and discovered that they don't actually collect fines - they just want the books back. That was a stroke of good luck as I had been late returning several items.

The first part of the exhibition. It continued to follow the invasion chronologically.

This area contained one of my favorite parts. That old radio concealed an iPod dock which played snippets of Patrick Watts' broadcast of the Invasion, when he stayed on air all night.

The British soldier caused all kinds of trouble as we simply could not get him fat enough. Also, his boots were too small.

I realize now that I got confused in my last post. I confused and combined two different Steak Nights. The after-party at Steve's was definitely on July 11, but it followed a perfectly normal and timely Steak Night with him, Mike, and Miguel. July 18 was the Steak Night when everyone showed up late. How do I know this? Because I went for a helicopter ride the next day. I had asked Gary a couple of weeks before about the possibility of tagging along on a CHC flight. He said it didn't look good and there wasn't anything scheduled before I left, but at this Steak Night he said there was a flight the next day that I could go on if the weather held. The next morning the skies were clear and the flight was a go. My hosts drove me to the Stanley Airport and I hung out on the tarmac before it was time to go. This was just a short test flight over Stanley and back, but it was pretty awesome. I'd never been in a helicopter before and as soon as we landed I wanted to go again.

The Super Puma and I.

East Stanley - I actually did an interview at one of those houses.

The Lady Liz

 

Historian on the Move: July 6 - 12

After a long week of transcription I headed to the Vic on Friday with no definite plans, but it turned out to be one of my best nights in the Falklands. My friends were at the pub planning to go to the dance at the Town Hall marking the end of Farmers' Week. It was so much more fun than the Liberation Ball! There was no dress code to speak of and the bar was set up in the same room as the music and dancing. Under 18s were not allowed, so the adults got to take over the dancing. Between Andy P, Paul, and Alex I got to do a lot of dancing! Paul had taught me the "Falklands Two-Step" on Liberation Day so I could handle that one, but there were so many other dances that I didn't know. Some of them reminded me of contra dancing at William & Mary and Anna's wedding in 2010, but there was no one calling the steps - the dancers either already knew them or just picked it up as they went. My inner academic popped up during the evening to observe that someone could write an entire dissertation on vernacular dance in the Falkland Islands. I'm not a dance historian, but it's completely uncharted territory. One of my interview subjects was the man who teaches the weekly dance lessons on Wednesday nights in the Town Hall and he told me that a woman had come down to study Falklands folk music, but no one had taken a similar interest in dancing. According to Andy P there are even distinctions between the ways people dance on East and West Falkland. We all cooled off after the dance with a bit of a sing-song and some delicious leftovers from a dinner Alex had prepared for a large group of farmers at the Waterfront.

On Saturday my hosts actually returned from their months of travel, accompanied by a truckload of luggage. First introductions were only a little awkward, but fortunately I had plans and somewhere to be - the Vic for Pride Night. I hadn't realized the GLBT community in the Falklands was large enough to host a Pride Night, but they surprised me. Still, the majority of those who turned out were allies and supporters. It was still a pretty normal night for Stanley; we assembled at the Vic, danced at the Globe and Deano's, then finished the evening at Paula's. However, a bunch of Paras up from Mount Pleasant for exercises at Hillside was also out on the town and making a ruckus on the dance floor. I later found out that the only trouble they caused was among themselves, but it wasn't for lack of trying. Now that I was no longer alone in my house, I  wanted to get out of the way on Sunday to allow my hosts to settle back in. I walked around town for a while and had a late lunch at the West Store, where I managed to run into a couple of CHC crewmen and one of the Commandos from Hillside. They satisfied my need for human interaction before they headed off to watch The Pacific (they also love Band of Brothers and bemoaned the lack of a British equivalent at the previous Steak Night).

Over the past two months I did most of my transcription spread out at the dining room table in my house, but I now needed to find a new work space. Alex offered a solution on Monday by kindly allowing me to work from the Waterfront. I set up my computer and pile of references on a table in the dining room and sat down to a full day of transcription. It was a little chilly for the first few hours as the heating wasn't working in that area of the hotel, but Alex got that fixed before long. Several benefits came from working at the Waterfront: an unlimited supply of tea and biscuits just steps from my table, an easy walk to Jac's for lunch, and the added bonus of getting to see friends on a Monday. I even got a lot of transcription done!

Fortunately, on Tuesday, last week's bad luck did not continue and the weather cleared up enough for my excursion to Goose Green. This would turn out to be my only trip to the Camp and it was an experience I won't soon forget. My guide for the day was Eric Goss, who managed Goose Green during the 1982 Invasion and kindly let me tag along as he took a group of veterans out to the battlefield. We picked them up at Liberty Lodge, an accommodation established exclusively for the use of 1982 veterans and their family. Our group included a member of 2 Para (and his son) as well as a sailor from the HMS Exeter (whose father joined him on this trip to the Falklands, but didn't feel well enough to join us that day). The drive out to Goose Green took about an hour, allowing me plenty of time to stare out the window at the barren yet beautiful scenery. 

You can see the route from Stanley to Goose Green (2) on this map from the Falkland Islands Tourist Board.

Upon arrival, we stopped our 4x4s near a shack that had definitely seen batter days to survey the area where British forces started the battle. Eric Goss relied on his own memory, heavily annotated maps, and the account in Razor's Edge to take our group through the entire length of the battle, ending at the Goose Green settlement. We saw the remains of Argentine gun emplacements, positioned with an almost complete control of the landscape; markers and monuments for both fallen Brits and Argentines; ground still scarred from a crashed Harrier. I've visited many battlefields over the years with my dad, but nothing really compares to walking ground drenched with blood only 30 years ago accompanied by people who saw it with their own eyes. Sorry, Dad, but I don't think I'm going to be able to write a Staff Ride. The consistently warm reception from the Islanders and the ability to revisit these places has helped many 1982 veterans deal with the lingering effects of the conflict. I can't even imagine how so many Islanders cope on a daily basis, constantly surrounded by reminders of the war and unable to lay memories to rest.

The shack and the British approach towards Darwin and Goose Green.

An Argentine gun emplacement, with a blanket still stuck in the ground.

The Argentine view of the British approach. The dark speck on the right is the shack from the first photo.

Eric Goss standing with the cross that marks where he
buried the Argentine dead in 1982. Their bodies were
later moved to the nearby Argentine Cemetery.

What the British would have seen while climbing Darwin Hill. The gorse
on the ridge concealed Argentine snipers.

The town hall in Goose Green, where Argentine forces imprisoned the
settlement's residents.

Wednesday meant business as usual, though my excursion to Goose Green remained at the front of my mind. Miserable weather killed any intention to walk the mile to the Waterfront, but I found another work space at the museum, only a block away from home. With the 1982 exhibition now open in St. Mary's Hall, the collections usual home lies mostly empty and roped off from visitors. I managed to create a fairly comfortable nest surrounded by the remaining artifacts and the museum offered equally unlimited access to tea as well as the biscuit tin. 

My makeshift office in the 1982 room, complete with
Sidewinder missile.

I received word of two interviews scheduled for that afternoon, but long before it was time to go both interviewees had cancelled due to illness - the same bug that knocked me down the previous month. In any case, I got a lot of transcription done before braving the weather as I walked to the Vic for Steak Night. The pub was surprisingly empty, but I was not deterred. The nice thing about being a regular at the Local is that you always know someone to talk to. I texted the regular crowd to see where they'd gotten to and ordered my steak. I was wondering why I hadn't gotten any responses and decided to check the balance on my phone - I had no money left! I was almost done eating my steak at the bar and planning to head home soon when Steve, Mike, Gary, Miguel, and Paula strolled in. They sweet-talked their way into a few late steaks and explained that they'd been at the Stanley Arms. The pub across the street from my house all the way on the other side of town that no one but the regulars ever go to. In any case, I stuck around while they ate and even until closing, by which time Joss, Kathy, and Vanessa had shown up. We all headed to Steve's for a bit more merriment before the end of the night. On my way out the door Joss invited me to her birthday dinner the next night at the Malvina - I guess I had plans for Thursday now!

I continued working from the museum on Thursday, but that afternoon's interview appointment actually held. I got to talk to a man who used to work in the whaling industry on South Georgia. He had some great stories, but I'm afraid that days without an interview had left my skills a little rusty and didn't produce the best recording. Not a great way to go out as this would be my final interview in the Falklands. My packed evening made up for my lackluster performance during the day. I visited my friend Sam before heading to dinner, but I had an unfortunate encounter with a mud puddle on the way from her house to the Malvina. I didn't wipe out completely, but mud splattered the bottom foot of my jeans and completely covered my black Chucks. Obeying signage and not wanting to make a mess, I left my shoes at the door and walked to the dining room in stocking feet. My bright red wool socks raised a few questions about where my shoes had gotten to, but at least one person figured it out on their own. Upon his arrival, Alex asked if those were my mud-covered Converse by the back door. Dinner was delicious - I had the squid rings again followed by a delicious piece of lamb. I'm glad I got to try the Malvina for both lunch and dinner. As this was a celebration, there was birthday cake, and we closed the place down. Festivities continued back at Alex and Vanessa's house, where an uninvited neighbor called the police with a noise complaint. We turned the music down and closed the windows, but the policewoman answering the call didn't know quite what to do when two of her fellow officers answered the door and invited her in for a drink. I love the Falklands.

Emergency History: June 29 - July 5

I think I really found my interviewing groove. I woke up on Friday to find I had two interviews that afternoon at my house. There was a slight mix-up regarding who I was supposed to speak with at which time, but (big surprise) my subjects knew each other and it worked out. Both of them came from really old Falklands families and had a wealth of stories about managing sheep farms on the Islands and about horse culture. In the old days, horses were the only form of transport on the farms and so most Islanders had to be excellent horsemen. This translated into leisure activities twice a year during sports weeks, which centered around horse races (in between dancing, drinking, and mutton). Today, 4x4s provide transport between the farms while motorbikes have replaced horses for managing the sheep. Most farms have only a handful lot horses, if any, and there are many more horses kept for sport or as pets than there are working horses anymore. In order to get a taste of the way things used to be I really wanted to go for a ride outside Stanley, but unfortunately everyone had sent their horses out of town for the winter. However, doing all these interviews on short notice made me feel a bit like an emergency historian, on-call to record people's memories.

On Saturday, I expected to start sharing my house as this was the date my hosts had given me for their return, which would signal my transition from house sitter to houseguest. The LAN Chile flight arrives at Mount Pleasant, about 45 minutes outside of Stanley, every Saturday afternoon, so I expected them home around supper time. However, time came to go to the pub and I was still on my own. Oh, well - I had more important things to do as it was a Trough night. Vanessa was awesome, as usual, but we all called it a relatively early night and caught a cab after the band finished up. Sunday brought a rather unfortunate  revelation as I tried to cook my dinner and found there was no gas to be had. Oops. I emailed my hosts to ask them what to do (and where they were), then settled in to watch the EuroCup final. That was an awesome match and I really enjoyed watching Spain play. A reply came from my hosts explaining that they decided to spend a week in Chile before coming back the next Saturday and that I should have more gas delivered.

Getting more gas proved incredibly easy on Monday. I called Stanley Services, they delivered more that afternoon, and charged my hosts' account. Simple, hassle-free, and I could cook again! I also managed to set up a trip to Goose Green on Thursday, tagging along with a couple of veterans and the former farm manager. I had another great interview at my house. The more good interviews I had, the more confident I got as an interviewer, but I do have to be careful not to get cocky. Tuesday's did not go quite as well. There was confusion over where the interview was taking place and I think that seriously affected how relaxed/comfortable my interviewee felt. I walked to his house clear on the other side of town, while he drove to my house and knocked on all the doors. His wife invited me in, but unfortunately he doesn't carry a cellphone, so there was no way of getting in touch. I had a chat and a cup of tea while we waited for him to give up on me and come home. Eventually, he did make it back, but we were both clearly discomfited by the confusion and behind schedule. Rough as the interview may have been, I took advantage of my presence on the far east end of Stanley to take some pictures and visit the Memorial Wood.

Some of the trees in the Memorial Wood. Originally a tree was planted for every British soldier killed in the 1982 war, but it has since been expanded to include all those killed while serving in the Falklands.

A view of the Memorial Wood and the Narrows.

I had a couple of hours to kill in town as I was planning on attending the FIODA (Falkland Islands Operatic and Dramatic Association) Variety Show at the Town Hall. A sandwich at the West Store Cafe and a cider at the Vic easily passed the time before I could take my seat for the show. With my long history in the theatre, I'm always fascinated to see local amateur dramatics and this show provided the expected variety. I think the highlights included an original song composed by students from the Falkland Islands Community School and a comedy bit of Queen Elizabeth II giving a "State of the Union" speech to the Falklands. My real reason for going was the final act as Christine was in the group performing "The Cell Block Tango" from Chicago. They did a pretty good job, but as the only American in the audience (as far as I know) the accents did sound a bit odd. Mike and I had an ongoing argument about whether or not Shakespeare could or should be performed with American accents. Having done it several times myself, I naturally said that it could be, but hearing Chicago in a variety of British accents may have helped me see where he was coming from.

The Fourth of July dawned with snow. Incredibly breathtakingly beautiful snow. I spent most of the day at home working on transcription, but I headed to the Vic for Steak Night to celebrate a little bit. Is it ironic to celebrate Independence Day in one of Great Britain's last remaining colonies? 

The beautiful view from my house on July 4th.

My usual Steak Night crowd were nowhere to be seen, but I didn't have to eat alone. Christine and Ruth were there with a couple of CHC crewmen and some squadies from Hillside. I ended up staying until closing enjoying some excellent conversation - I even managed to get into an argument about military history! The guys were rather impressed when I demonstrated that I did actually know what I was talking about and could name various tanks and weapons. Snow was falling as I headed home to Skype with my mom, promising poor conditions for the planned excursion to Goose Green.

Unsurprisingly, when Thursday morning came my guide called to say the outing was postponed until next Tuesday since the roads were so dangerous. I also had no interviews scheduled as Farmers' Week had kept most potential interviewees very busy. Another day of transcription.

Falklands Plague: June 22 - 28

After two days in bed I was damned if I was going to miss a single weekend in Stanley even if I had missed a few interviews. My fever had broken and I decided to spent Friday in bed again to recharge. It was a good thing, too, as Debs decided to have a dinner party. I sounded like a frog and I was still coughing, but I actually felt pretty good. On the advice of several locals I attempted to medicate myself with vitamin C and alcohol in the form of Vodka Fresh (i.e. screwdrivers).  That didn't really work very well, but I persevered. I do admit that it was rather annoying at Deano's to have to interrupt my dancing every few minutes to cough. But it didn't stop me from going to Vanessa's after the pubs closed. Sebastian was leaving the next day and I didn't want to miss the chance to say goodbye. No jägermeister this time, though (thank goodness). Another consequence of the plague's bad timing came on Saturday. I had planned for weeks to participate in the Midwinter Swim, but decided that jumping in the South Atlantic with a virus would be rather suicidal and stupid of me. Knowing my inclination to do crazy shit, this meant I couldn't even go to the beach to cheer on my friends who were well enough to participate. The last time I went somewhere determined not to swim, I ended up in the Gulf of Finland in my underwear.

Since I didn't get in the South Atlantic, here's a picture from our 2008
picnic that ended up with all of us in the Gulf of Finland. One major
difference? It was summer then.

However, even if I couldn't go the swim there was still a party to attend. Mike's birthday (oh, and it was Miguel's birthday, too) started with a football match, delicious lunch, and finally mulled wine prepared by Andy P. Unfortunately my condition went from bad to worse. Somehow, over the course of the afternoon sitting on Mike's couch I managed to get conjunctivitis. WTF? So, I felt fine, but my eye was red and swollen, I was still coughing, and my voice was very croaky. I still made it out to the Vic and Deano's, but people kept asking me how I felt. I also met my first American in the Falklands - an American staying at the Waterfront and pursuing a PhD in Spanish. That is one of the advantages of staying at the Waterfront; Alex might take you to a birthday party on your first night in town. The party ended up back at Mike's, where Andy P progressed from mulled wine to hot rum. However, as people kept streaming in the door I realized that I simply did not have the energy for that much party. As it turned out, I missed some good music and the last party at Mike's as the festivities prompted a letter from his landlord. Still, my decision was probably for the best as my eye was completely swollen shut and crusted over when I woke up on Sunday morning. I stayed in and watched Italy eliminate England from the EuroCup in a penalty shootout. That was pretty intense.

I checked in with the museum on Monday, but Leona was out so I was on my own with transcription again. I did, however, get to test the National Health Service with a trip to the King Edward VII Memorial Hospital. My first surprise was finding Vanessa working the front desk. The swelling had gone down in my eye, but I knew from experience that the infection had spread to my other eye and I would need eye drops if it turned out to be bacterial in origin. I got to see the casualty nurse within about 15 minutes. She took a look at my eyes and entered me into the system, but unfortunately she couldn't prescribe the eye drops for me. She could, however, get me in to see a doctor in about an hour, but I would have to pay out of pocket for the appointment. Apparently overseas insurance companies have spent the past decade trying not to pay their bills in the Falklands, leading to the hospital's current policy of not accepting foreign medical insurance. During my 5 minute consultation with the doctor, he confirmed my diagnosis, prescribed the eye drops, revealed that he was a member of the Legislative Assembly, learned that I was an unpaid intern who had begged to come to the museum, and then he ripped up my paperwork. I'm not making this up. Apparently he decided that I shouldn't have to pay 90 pounds for a 5 minute appointment in which he told me something I already knew. How was I supposed to argue with that? I picked up my eye drops at the pharmacy, but I knew I couldn't leave without saying goodbye to Vanessa. Since she was supposed to process my payment information, she was just as confused by the doctor's actions.

While I did not spend all week in bed, I was still quite under the weather, what with the cold/flu bug and the conjunctivitis. I did get some transcription done, but I didn't have any interviews until Wednesday. Not my best work. The first one suffered from almost everything that can go wrong with oral history. I had almost no information on my subject and I was supposed to interview him while he was at work in the security hut at FIPASS.

FIPASS - the Floating Interim Port and Storage System built in 1982.

So, I was coughing and struggling to come up with questions while this guy concentrated on checking the permits on all the cars that came on and off the dock. Not really the best circumstances in which to have a candid conversation with someone. Oh, and I didn't hit record until 15 minutes into the interview. Whoops. It was bound to happen sooner or later, so I guess I was just happy that it happened during what I think was my worst interview overall. My second interviewee came to my house and that went somewhat better, but still wasn't my best work. This woman had amazing stories about growing up in Camp, but she needed a fair amount of prompting and questions to jog her memory and I just didn't know enough about her to keep her going. She would go off on a memory for a few minutes, then ask if I had anymore questions for her. I managed to keep her going for an hour, but I really think she would give an amazing interview to someone with better preparation. Unfortunately, I got a call from Vanessa on my way to the second interview. The hospital was onto me and I needed to come back to pay my bill.

I felt pretty sheepish slinking back into the hospital on Thursday morning, when I found that the woman who takes care of billing had recovered my torn-up paperwork and pieced it back together. She was very nice about the whole situation, explained that she had scolded the doctor, and even thanked me for coming back in. I now have a bill and a letter I get to file with the insurance company when I get back. Oh, joy. Lunch on Thursday was a treat. Every time someone has a birthday at the museum, everyone gets together and goes to the Malvina for lunch. The Malvina is the only place in town that could really be called a restaurant and I knew I had to try it at least once before I left. I had also been told that I needed to eat the squid rings as the local squid was the best in the world. Wow. I'm not really a seafood person, but the squid rings with sweet chili sauce were delicious. And then I had the pumpkin, spinach, and mozzarella cannelloni. Now that was a good lunch. Fortunately someone had thought ahead and scheduled my interview for the day a bit later than usual. I think this one made up for Wednesday's mistakes. We talked for two hours, covering topics of education, history, the Falkland Islands Government, and even dance. I think this was one of my most successful interviews of the whole trip.

The Work Begins: June 15 - 21

Like most of my Friday nights this one was spent at the Vic, followed by an after-party at someone's apartment. As usual, there was drinking, dancing, and good conversation. Funnily enough everyone crowded into the kitchen rather than expanding into the living room. However, I spent most of the night trying to protect one of my guy friends from unwanted advances. That was awkward. Saturday night I was supposed to meet Alex and Sebastian at the Vic to then got to the Trough to hear Vanessa sing, but they had to work so we didn't manage to link up. Instead I had a couple of drinks with the CHC guys and resigned myself to a quiet night at home. Therefore, I was in a bit of a mood on my way home and as I walked past Deano's something happened which almost resulted in me starting a girl-fight. I was just minding my own business when a girl started yelling at a guy walking near me to come back to the pub. She changed her tactic, asking "if he was shagging young girls then, or old girls if that's her." I was the only female in sight to whom she could have been referring and I was not pleased to be called old. Fortunately, the night took a turn for the better after I got home. Via text message, Debs persuaded me to catch a cab to the Trough. The cab took about 30 minutes to come, but I manged to catch Vanessa's second set and had a great time dancing. After the Trough closed, we kept dancing at Paula's, where Sebastian may have called me the first North American he's met who could dance. I think this means I am no longer the whitest girl you will ever meet. The night went so long that I ended up crashing on the couch at Alex/Sebastian/Vanessa's house around 5am. However, this meant I got a delicious breakfast the next day of toast with avocado, scrambled eggs, and ham, accompanied by strawberry milk and tea. We had a lazy afternoon watching The Romantics, which Vanessa called a "rubbish movie," but I enjoyed it. The Russian House Exiles are just incestuous enough that I could imagine really going to a wedding as messed up as the one depicted in the film.

With the new exhibition opened and Liberation Day over with, I expected to walk into Leona's office Monday morning, find that she had scheduled some interviews for me later in the week, then walk over to Customs & Immigration to renew my visitor's permit. Yeah...not so much. At first, it was especially terrifying as Joleen handed me two post-it notes with interviews scheduled for this afternoon. Thank goodness Leona returned to her office a few minutes later to fill me in. She managed to schedule two interviews for me this afternoon with residents of Stanley who live just down the street from the museum. We agreed to focus on Stanley this week, then see if we can get me out into the Camp. With less than two hours notice, I rushed back to my house to grab my recorder and make sure it was ready to go. The batteries were fully charged, but the 1 GB SD card only had enough room left for one interview. I reformatted it and switched it out for my own 4 GB card, allowing much more time to talk. I've borrowed a Zoom H2 Handy Recorder (complete with accessories) from NMSU for the summer and while I have played with it a bit, today was my first time using it in earnest. It behaved very well during both 80 minute interviews, though I may want to increase the mic volume a little bit. I think the interviews themselves went very well. I got some great stories, didn't interrupt, kept my audible responses to a minimum, and got both release forms signed. However, I do need to squirm a bit less. You can hear the couch squeaking in the first recording and I think I kicked the table with the recorder a couple of times. The second interview may include the clink of my tea mug on its coaster and I had to interrupt it near the end to take a bathroom break. In general, I'm satisfied with the results (especially since I had no idea I'd be doing interviews when I woke up this morning) and I can't wait to do more! However, it was a bit hard to keep myself out of the conversation as I had several moments where I wanted to relate my own experiences to those I was recording.

I did two more interviews on Tuesday afternoon, though I had only expected to do one. Afterwards I stopped by the pubs since I knew England was playing a match in the EuroCup that afternoon. I found a bunch of my friends at Deano's watching England beat Ukraine. Hurray! It may have been a Tuesday, but this was still cause for celebration. We decamped to Andy P's house, where the boys cooked us delicious food since most of us had chosen football over dinner. This was the first time I got to meet Andy P as he had been in the US as part of the Falklands delegation visiting the UN in June.

I had noticed a tickle at the back of my throat during my interviews on Tuesday and unfortunately by Wednesday it had turned into a full-blown cold. I spent the next two days in bed coughing up a lung and had to cancel the rest of the week's interviews. Very bad timing. Throughout my time in the Falklands this cold/flu bug ravaged Stanley, hitting pretty much everyone. I was reminded of the stories last December about the Falklands turning away a cruise ship because of norovirus. International health professionals claimed that the outbreak on the ship was not large enough to be a danger, leading to comments that refusing the cruise ship had  been a political action. People, take this from someone who has experienced: any bug that gets into Stanley spreads like wildfire and the hospital simply cannot cope with an epidemic, nor could the Islands afford to have so many people out sick during the tourist season.

Liberation: June 8 - 14

And now for the second installment of Annie-tries-to-remember-everything-she's-done- in-the -Falklands-for-the-past-two-months. Being stuck at the airport in Santiago provides an excellent opportunity for this recap.

Friday, June 8 - Thursday, June 14

I'm not entirely sure what happened this weekend, but I think it involved Jägerbombs. Lots of Jägerbombs. Also probably dancing. But that's most weekends in the Falklands. The Jägerbombs, however, were unusual. I do remember that my back was killing me when I woke up on Sunday. It was so bad that I emailed my absent hosts to see if they would mind my moving bedrooms. The house has two spare rooms, one upstairs and one downstairs. I spent the first few weeks in the upstairs bedroom, which is much larger and has a closet, but also has a rather uncomfortable mattress. With approval via email, I moved my stuff down the stairs to the tiny bedroom, which has a much better bed and a couple of other benefits. First, I don't have to run up and down the stairs to use the bathroom or visit the kitchen in the middle of the night. Second, the room is tiny enough that it contains heat very well. I just shut the door during the day and it's toasty warm even when I've turned the thermostat down at night.

After lollygagging for the past few weeks I tried to establish a routine this week. You know, getting up at a reasonable hour, working a full day, transcribing interviews, and reading library books. It didn't work that well. After a day of this, I was feeling restless so I went over to Christine's for a glass of wine. She convinced me that coming to play water polo on Tuesday night was a good idea. It was fun, but another reminder of just how out of shape I am. It's been a while since I've been swimming so the constant treading water really wore me out. What better way to recover than with a drink at the Vic and a few games of pool with friends?

I went into the museum on Wednesday since with the new exhibition opened, Leona now had time to address my project. I briefed her on my impressions of the existing set of interviews and she promised to start contacting people to set something up for the next week. After out meeting I got my hair fixed by a professional. I walked into the one salon in Stanley in Monday, hoping that seeing my hair in person would inspire them to pity me. It worked and they squeezed me into the schedule for Wednesday afternoon. My hair went from short to REALLY short over the course of 30 minutes. I also got some good news via text message that morning. Christine managed to get me a ticket to the Liberation Ball happening that night in Town Hall. Unfortunately, I had not anticipated attending a ball when I packed my single suitcase to come here. Something to remember for future travels - always come prepared for a ball. I did have a simple cotton dress which served once I did some emergency accessorizing. Not great, but better than nothing. However, with my new haircut and wearing Chucks with my dress, I totally looked like a hipster. Dinner with friends beforehand was delicious, but the ball itself was a bit disappointing. Since Under 18s were in attendance, the bar had to be set up separately from the dance floor and drinks could not leave that room. Therefore, most of the adults crammed into the bar while the teenagers had the run of the dance floor. I danced a bit, but otherwise called it an early night as Thursday promised to be a long day.

Thursday was Liberation Day, celebrating the 30th anniversary of the Argentine surrender in 1982. The day began with services at Christ Church Cathedral, but I joined in time for the parade and ceremony at the Liberation Memorial located in front of the Secretariat. The weather was absolutely miserable; windy and cold with very wet snow falling. Even as bundled up as I was, I spent most of morning shivering. However, it was truly impressive how many people braved the weather to honor the occasion. One of the things I have noticed about the Falklands is just how much these people treasure their liberty and respect the armed forces, especially veterans of the Falklands War.

The FIDF looking sharp.

Part of the freezing crowd around the Liberation Memorial.

It was a long day, but I fueled up after the parade with a delicious brunch with Ruth, Christine, and a couple of the CHC crewmen. Normally I hate things like eggs, but this was seriously delicious. Also, we watched football. Somehow I keep ending up abroad during the EuroCup and that seems to be the only time I actually care about football. It is, however, rather convenient that my St. George tattoo can represent England as well as Russia. Well fed and well rested we headed over to the FIDF hall around 3pm. Somehow we made it through the packed space to the bar for a couple of drinks. The section of the hall that didn’t contain the bar did have an interesting display about current development projects and industry in the Falklands. It really reminded me of FIBAB in the Mesilla Valley around the turn of the twentieth century as that organization was also dedicated to promoting the economic opportunities of a remote community. At the FIDF hall I met up with Debs, Paula, Paul, Mike, Vanessa, Alex, and Sebastian, with whom I headed to Shorty's for a late lunch/early dinner.

This is the only time I made it to Shorty's so I'm glad I went with them as it is a bit of an institution in Stanley. It's pretty much your basic diner, but I think the entire staff is from the Philippines. In any case, I had my first burger in a month and it was tasty. From Shorty's we embarked on a pretty epic pub crawl. We started at the Rose as Paul had been requested there for a sing-song (he plays guitar and does sing quite well). Wow - and I thought the Vic was a local pub. The Rose is so local it doesn't even have a sign and it was completely packed. 

The Rose: hiding from tourists in plain sight.

We had quite a struggle to get our drink orders in, but pleasantly surprised to find that drinks were on the house…until it was mine turn to buy a round. Bad timing, that. In any case, we felt a bit out of place and ended up sitting at a table in the corner away from the crowd. It was time to move on. Deano's Bar is east of the Rose on John Street and is a weekend destination for dancing. Though normally the music is more discoteque than hoedown. Apparently on Liberation Day even the clubs are expected to Benny Bop. We spent several hours at Deano's playing dice, which I somehow managed to lose four times. Using five poker dice, we went around the table counting the cumulative number of aces rolled. Whoever rolled the 7th ace had to name a drink, the 14th ace would buy the drink, and the 21st had to drink said drink. Because people think it's hilarious to make you drink awful things I had straight gin, port, bailey's and lime, as well as Kahlua and OJ. Big surprise: Kahlua and orange juice tastes exactly like a Jaffa Cake. That one was pretty yummy. Oh, and between rounds Paul taught me how to do what I refer to as the Falklands Two-step, which is generally done to country music(?). After Deano's we had to stop at the Vic for a game or two of pool, but we ended the night dancing at the Globe Tavern as they had a special license to stay open late that night. Since the day started so early there was no real need to go to anyone's place after that.

I felt the first bit of panic set in as I realized that I only had six weeks left in the Falklands, had yet to do an interview, and had no definite plan for the rest of my time here. Further worry-making was the fact that almost as soon as I get back to the US I'll be moving to New Mexico.