The National WWII Museum

Last weekend I took a much needed break from Grad School to visit New Orleans with Eric and the rest of the Russian House Exiles. One of trip's highlights was definitely our time spent at the National WWII Museum. As I understand it, this museum was originally founded as the National D-Day Museum, the brainchild of Stephen Ambrose and the History Channel, but was rebranded and expanded as the National WWII museum after Hurricane Katrina threatened to shut it down permanently. The museum's complex currently occupies two city blocks and is still growing. We had some trouble finding the actual museum entrance and had to ask for help in one of the three museum stores. We felt slightly better about this when we helped out several other visitors who had the same problem.

Once inside, is it sad that I was a little underwhelmed by their presentation of a C-47? Besides that, they had one Sherman tank and a Spitfire in the pavilion that holds the vehicle collection. That's a pretty sad assortment if you ask me. Even the Fort Bliss and Old Ironsides Museums has a T-34. Expansion suggestion #1: This place needs a tank park.

Admission to the museum was a little steep. Our group lucked out since most of us had student and/or military IDs, warranting a decent discount. We paid $12 to get into the museum rather than the steep $21 for adults. However, the museum does offer free admission for uniformed military personnel and WWII veterans. Tickets in hand, we skipped the introductory videos and marched straight up to the exhibit beginning. The first display set the tone for the rest of our visit, demonstrating an aspect of museum work that this place really excels at: the visual display of information. You turn the corner into the Home Front gallery, where the story begins, and BOOM you instantly see the disadvantage of American forces at the beginning of the war.

Lined up in front of the corresponding national flags, little army men represent the sizes of the various armies. Pretty neat stuff and very easy to grasp the meaning without reading every little piece of text.This first section of the museum depicts the mobilization of the home front to support the war effort, including the development of industry and enlargement of the US army. It was a little strange to encounter the home front before the war had even started exhibit-wise, but I guess it allowed the narrative to leave the United States behind to focus on the fighting.

From the Home Front, visitors walk upstairs to the European Theater. Since this was previously the D-Day Museum, anyone familiar with World War II will be surprised to find that the exhibits start late in the war with preparations for the invasion of Normandy. The museum's mission statement reads that "the National WWII Museum tells the story of the American Experience in the war that changed the world- why it was fought, how it was won, and what it means today - so that all generations will understand the price of freedom and be inspired by what they learn." Very clearly, the museum strives to tell the American story of World War II, therefore all that stuff that happened before the US entered the war isn't all that relevant. They do follow the European Theater through the end of the conflict and they've added a section on the Pacific Theater, but US operations in North Africa receive almost no mention. Naturally, the museum omits the Eastern Front and all that stuff that happened before the US got involved. However much I might want them to tell the whole story of WWII, not doing so is completely in keeping with their mission statement.

So...maybe they should revise their mission statement.

Regardless of huge gaps in the narrative, they really have done some fantastic museum work. Here are some of my favorite parts:

This recreation allowed Tim and Eric to reenact The Longest Day complete with sound effects. I really enjoy it when museums are able to create environments within their exhibits that really transport the visitor to a different time or place.

 This was probably one of the best displays in the entire museum. The lines on the map connect an individual soldier to his location during the invasion. The inclusion of his picture with his story helps the visitor connect with him as an individual, and then there's an artifact that connects to each soldier. This is just so good on so many levels. I might have squeed a bit.

 Eric and I agreed that someday we want to decorate a nursery like this. Do you remember what I said about the visual representation of information? Well, there's the force attacking at Normandy. The visitor doesn't need to read anything to see the size and variety of the force deployed against the Nazis.

 Once you've landed in Normandy, this environment sneaks up on you. The ancient hedgerows in this area of France allowed German forces to easily conceal shooters, which is exactly what the museum has done here. One of the guns is fairly obvious to alert you to their presence, but then it takes a few minutes to find all the barrels aimed at you.

 These booths are integrated throughout the museum. Each one offers four two-minute oral history clips that connect topically to the gallery around them. It's a great way to add a personal dimension to the narrative without trapping the visitor for 15+ minutes or obstructing traffic.

 During my visit, our group got split up as some of us moved faster through the galleries. As explanation, I present the following exchange:

Evin - How did you guys get so far ahead of us?

Tim - We didn't have to read anything, we had Eric.

My husband Eric, the walking encyclopedia of military history.

The museum also had a special exhibit on entitled "Deadly Medicine: Creating the Master Race," sponsored in part by the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. It's so nice to see the various private museums working together.

We had lunch after our visit at the museum's restaurant The American Sector, which had a very tasty menu offering a mix of local dishes and items reminiscent of wartime rationing. They also had a pretty nice drink list. For a snack or a quick meal, the museum also houses a Soda Shop. The Stage Door Canteen offers live entertainment at Brunch and Dinner shows. Seriously, this place offers the complete 1940s experience.

On Sunday, while part of the group went to mass, Eric and I came back to the museum to see Beyond All Boundaries, "the 4-D Experience Featuring Tom Hanks." Eric just can't say no to Tom Hanks and I was curious. It was awesome and honestly worth the extra admission cost. Eric described it as "World War II: The Ride." According to the museum's website, they're currently hiring theatre and A/V technicians. Very tempting. Our return trip also meant that we got to check out the third museum shop. The three shops overlap in their stock, but they all carry a good variety of books, DVDs, swag, toys, and clothes. It was pretty cool that they actually had dresses from Stop Staring! on sale. Even cooler? GREMLINS!!! How had nobody ever shown me Gremlins before?!?!?! To prevent you from a similar catastrophe, I offer the following: [EDIT: "Gremlins from the Kremlin" is no longer available, but here's another Bugs Bunny cartoon with a Gremlin.]

One thing that was also clear from the museum was that they have a very strong volunteer program. Members of the Youth Victory Corps (middle and high school students) were stationed throughout the galleries with artifacts that you could touch and play with. Also, the museum is taking advantage of one very important asset that won't be around forever: World War II veterans. 

Right near the front entrance, this set up enables veterans to come in and volunteer to share their experience of the war. We didn't get the chance to talk to any of the volunteers while we were there, but the program offers a great opportunity for both visitors and veterans.

Overall, this museum has some great things going for it that make it well worth the visit, even though the narrative skips over some important aspects of the war. Like Africa. Or the Eastern Front. If you don't have an Eric with you, allow 2-3 hours for the exhibit galleries. If you have time, definitely check out the movie and grab a bite to eat!

The Real World

It's now been a month since I left the Falkland Islands and my time there still feels like a dream. It was shockingly easy to fall back into my normal life - so different from my daily experiences in the South Atlantic. Here it feels like the sun never stops bearing down on you, the heat is oppressive, and there are people everywhere. The final account for my work at the museum came to 14.8 hours of new interviews collected, 22.4 hours of interviews transcribed, and a manual for continuing work on the collection. Once things here have settled down a bit I'll do some more of that work myself, but I hope the museum can find enough interested parties to continue the project.

Things I miss about the Falklands: my friends, the museum, dancing all night, walking everywhere, penguins, the beauty of the land, the lifestyle.

Things I don't miss about the Falklands: living alone, being cold all the time, wearing a ridiculous amount of clothes, constantly slipping and falling on ice, the limited variety of food.

A couple of people have mentioned to me the rather large amount of drinking I've mentioned on this blog. I'm generally the sort of person who will tell you something straight up and I did drink a lot in the Falklands. Back in my normal life, I don't have more than one or two drinks a week. However, in Stanley, most socializing took part in the pubs and drinking was part of the culture. It even came up a few times in the oral histories I collected and transcribed. I heard it said several times from those of us on short contracts, that being in the Falklands is kind of like being in university again. So true. 

My main occupation since returning to the USA has been moving to New Mexico, where I have one more year left in my program. Fortunately, I won't be living alone as I'm taking the spare room at my friend Jeanna's apartment. Oh, and we'll be joined by her cat, Mao, and her dog, Buffy.

This is Mao. He's beautiful and he knows it.

And apparently silly if he thinks I can't see him under there.

...and this is Buffy. She's a bit skittish, but very sweet and quiet.

I've finally got most of my stuff into the new place after several trips, but I still have another week until I move in full time.

New room in New Mexico.

If you've ever sent me a postcard, it is probably on that wall.

Eric and I also spent a lot of time this month watching the Olympics. Inspired by this, Eric decided he wanted to take up archery again. As a kid back in Arkansas, he used to have a target set up in his backyard and for a few years he spent hours and hours shooting. I did archery for a few years at summer camp in elementary school, too, but Eric's experience is much more recent than mine. In any case, for his birthday I tracked down a couple of archery shops where we were able to try out some bows. We both got competition-style recurves (mine is left-handed and lighter) and spent a couple days at the range. While fun, the experience left me a bit marked up as it seems every place in town is sold out of arm guards.

This is what happens when you shoot archery with a hyper-rotated elbow and without an arm guard.

This is wrong. See how much my arm is sticking out to
the left? That's why the bowstring hit it so much.

This is right. My arm is safely out of the bowstring's way. However,  I have 
to consciously think about holding my arm in this position.

Classes started last Thursday and I've now had at least one meeting of all mine. I'm going to be doing a lot of writing this semester. It'll be good for me. To finish my program, I have four classes left (research seminar, reading seminar, two traditional history) and my master's thesis. I'm knocking out three of the classes this semester, so I'll be focusing on this thesis this spring. The Research Seminar this semester focuses on biography and I hope to continue my work on Josephine Foster, possibly even producing a publishable paper. I'm taking World War I as my traditional history course, which seemed timely to me as the centenary is coming up soon. Also, this class is spending a lot of time on the social and cultural aspects of the war as well as its legacy. Fun stuff. My third class is the reading seminar, on the theme of Myth, Memory, and History. This class is actually one of the things that attracted me to this program in the first place. Back at William & Mary, ProfCor definitely converted me to memory studies. I find the interaction of these three concepts absolutely fascinating - it doesn't hurt that it fits in well with my background in Russian/Soviet history. My only disappointment is that I've already read two of the books on the syllabus and we're not using ProfCor's book (it's been used in the past for this class). I'm also a Teaching Assistant again this semester - this time for two professors, one of which has an intro US History survey class. I'm doing a lot of work for that one, but I'm finally getting some good US History! My first lecture is less than a month away. It also looks like I'll be giving a talk sometime this fall on my time in the Falklands.

My office in the History Department. I share it with 3 other Teaching Assistants, but I think the flag has appropriately marked my territory. Oh, and the Department of Languages and Linguistics is on the
same hallway. I wonder how long it will take the Spanish professors to identify the flag of the Falkland Islands.

Oh, and I dyed my hair blue yesterday.

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.

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.

There's Nothing Casual About Penguins

I took a couple of days to settle in and get acquainted with the area before I went into the museum. On Monday Steve, the museum's taxidermist/handyman, took me to see some of the sites outside Stanley. He drove the the museum's 4x4 across some rather treacherous terrain out to Cape Pembroke, the most eastern point int the Falkland Islands. There were tracks through the rolling grass/peat/rocks, but many had filled with water and it was a challenge to figure out the best path without getting stuck. For five pounds, the museum lends out the key to the Cape Pembroke lighthouse, which no longer works as its mechanism was damaged in 1982. However, you can climb all the way to the top and out on the walkway of this prefab cast-iron Victorian structure.

You can just make out the lighthouse beyond the dunes.

I'm pretty sure neither the National Trust nor the National Park Service would let anyone up there as the last two ladders are a bit tricky and it's easy to loose your footing on the walkway in the smallest wind.  If I'd let it, the wind would have blown me around the top a few times. Back on the ground, we walked past the memorial for the Atlantic Conveyor, a ship sunk in 1982, to a small spot covered in the native Tussac grass. This grass appeals so much to the wildlife that it has disappeared from much of the Islands. However, mine clearing operations are helping to bring it back as clean areas are being replanted with Tussac. Farther to the west, we spied some Gentoo penguins enjoying white sand beaches made private by the presence of more mines. Don't worry, the penguins aren't big enough to set the mines off (if they're even there).

Barbed wire and the risk of death separate me from the penguins.

Continuing west, we stopped again at two of the most popular wildlife spots in the summer. Yorke Bay and Gypsy Cove spend months crawling with Magellanic penguins and other creatures, but they have vacated for the winter. Instead of making nests, the Magellanic penguins dig burrows where they lay their eggs. Visiting the Falkland Islands, you're much more likely to trip over one of these than tread on a mine. However, the resulting infestation of penguin fleas may make you wish for the mine. Our adventures left plenty of time for Steve to drop me at the library before it closed. The Community Library occupies part of the Community School/Leisure Center complex and lends books to visitors and residents alike. I was pleasantly surprised by both their excellent selection and the availability of DVDs to rent. It looks like I'll be catching up on my new releases when I'm not devouring their local interest section

A typical Stanley day - snow one minute, sunshine the next.

 The museum's manager, Leona, was out on Tuesday, but I still got to look around the museum. For a small operation, their collection is fairly impressive. Unfortunately, they just don't have the space to display everything properly and most of the exhibitions have been assembled rather haphazardly over the years. The artifacts are grouped somewhat thematically/chronologically, but there's no overarching interpretation or story and text is restricted to small object labels. Within the next year and a half, the museum is planning to move from its current location to a historic building closer to the center of town. This should increase both their space and visitation. Currently, most visitors have to walk a mile from the jetty where their cruise ships drop them off and not all tourists are up for the walk. I'll try to take some pictures at the museum next week. On Wednesday, Leona was in and she handed over what oral history materials she could find.

The museum is in chaos preparing for an exhibition on 1982 they're opening in town next Wednesday, so I took my box of CDs and assorted paperwork back to the house. After isolating the clocks behind the closed office door (they were ticking and I hate ticking clocks), I've set up shop on the dining room table. Most of the recordings were done in 2009, but there are plenty of others and there's no central location for documentation or recordings. The archives has a fairly complete spreadsheet, but the head archivist used to be in broadcasting so she doesn't distinguish between Oral Histories and other recorded primary sources. I've now finished rough transcriptions of two interviews from the 2009 collection. In class at NMSU, I also advocated for the inclusion of all "um"s, "uhs"s, "you know"s, and pauses in oral history transcripts. I TAKE IT BACK. I'm so glad the museum is letting me leave those out. However, I am rapidly forming a rather negative opinion of the gentleman who did these interviews. He doesn't begin the recordings by introducing himself/the interviewee/date/location, he's constantly interrupting, and asks a lot of leading questions. In general, he just talks far too much. On one of the recordings it was quite entertaining to listen to his interviewee getting more and more irritated.

Of course I have already acquainted myself with several of the local pubs. My favorite, known locally as "the Vic," even has a cat! I went in there on Wednesday for Steak Night and didn't get home until about 4 in the morning. It was so crowded that I didn't have anywhere to eat my steak until a group of relatively young guys made room for me at their table. Since then, I've hung out with them (and others of the 20/30-something expat community) a couple of times and I'm even going to a birthday party this weekend. It seems strange to use the word "expat" since many of them are Brits, but there are also Canadians, Chileans, and people from all over. It's a little terrifying how many people I've met here who came on a short contract and years later still haven't left.

The mysterious pub cat, waiting to be served. I've heard several strange stories 
about his identity. One person told me he had a twin, another that his name was 
"Bacardi." I think the most likely story was that his name is "Smoky." How original...

My house does have a car I can use, but I'm staying far away from that adventure as I can't drive a manual transmission, I've never driven on the left, and I'm much more comfortable in my Fiesta than a hulking 4x4. This means that I walk pretty much everywhere. As the center of town is about a mile away, I'm walking 2-4 miles everyday. On Friday I'm pretty sure I walked 6 as I went into town twice and wandered around quite a bit. Today, I tested grocery shopping for the first time. I took a reusable shopping bag from the house and walked to the supermarket at the center of town (after making stops at the museum, the archives, and the library). I discovered that the very sturdy and affordable bag safely holds a basket's worth of groceries. Perfect! It got a bit heavy on the way home, but the cold kept anything from spoiling and I made it.

The ever so convenient and sturdy shopping bag. Why
don't they make them this well in the US?

MK will appreciate this: On Friday night, after the pubs closed, the party continued at the apartment of one of the Brits. He explained to me that I was freaking out rather unnecessarily when Patrick Wolf's "The Magic Position" came on somewhere between the Top 40 and the Chilean dance music as it was perfectly logical for a Brit to have a song by a British artist. However, I do believe this was the first time I have ever heard this song played by someone who was not MK or myself. For the rest of you: Enjoy!