Zoo therapy

The last few days have been dragging. My project at work is practically finished, but it's difficult to get my mind around the PhD when I still have to be at the office for eight hours a day. So today instead of counting minutes and feeling frustrated I took my remaining half day off and, yes, went to the zoo. Full of apprehension mind you, because most of the zoo visits I can remember left me feeling a bit upset and a bit guilty. I lived next to the London zoo for a while, and it was a sad place of concrete and empty eyed creatures. It is different in Edinburgh though.

The view of Pentland Hills from just inside the zoo.

Sealion. Male. Asleep.

This is the first view you are faced with, a happy, massive sealion napping and being very, very relaxed. There is only a low wall, and, at one point, a pane of clear glass in one spot. No bars, no cage. The habitat looks well designed and well maintained, and the three sealions seem content. Well, that bode well.

The zoo was really well designed. Bird enclosures were large, with running water and vegetation growign wild, and they were not indiscriminately open - with some, you could only peek in at designated points.

Bird enclosure.

The safari section.

See the little wire bridge? That's for animals to cross from one enclosure to the other.
This zoo is like a little child's dream!

The zeebras and antelopes were kept at a big field with an overhead walkway, so that you could get close to the animals without disturbing them - and have a great view of the city too. Most of the enclosures had glass panes rather than mesh or bars, or even had no high wired protection at all - so refreshing and European in this Health and Safety crazed country! Good ideas, and good design in action. I felt less like a voyeur, and more like a visitor.

Whatever this was, it had the most terryfying call I've ever heard; this is what dinosaurs must have sounded like.

Not only did the enclosures not have high walls, but some of them were open to the air too. The one where these beautiful, graceful cranes lived had an ample pond where a very common pair of mallards decided to hang out. The cranes did not seem disturbed at all, perhaps they enjoyed the company - although seagulls would get the sharp end of the beak.

They were amazing, and somehow alien-looking things. They would come to the very edge of the fence to have a good look at me before walking off, seemingly satisfied with what they saw. I hope they approved.

Sharing their pond with mallards. If the mallards could come and go, I don't know what kept the cranes put - perhaps they were addicted to admiring stares.

The real reason I was curious to see Edinburgh zoo was a documentary I saw a few months before, about a PhD student working with chimpanzees. Betsy Herrelko is a behavioral scientist, and she was curious to see if Edinburgh chimps can understand the concept of an image. She gave the chimpanzees cameras, and her struggles with the project were made into a BBC documentary.

The chimps live in a newly built enclosure; they are free to go in and out as they please, and there are complex wood and rope structures everywhere for them to hang out on. Big windows provide good observation points for visitors, and I'm sure that there can be a lot to see. Today though napping seemed high on the agenda, and curled in my bay window, watching, I nearly fell asleep too.

Lazy afternoon.

The high point was meeting the hero of the documentary, Betsy herself; it felt like meeting a minor celebrity. She told me interesting things were on the horison for Edinburgh chimps, as a new group from Belgium was going to be introduced to the zoo, in the hopes of achieving breeding. Betsy explained there was a pan-European conservation project going on to maximise the genetic diversity of West African chimps in captivity, just in case. I hope it works out, and I'm quite jeleous of the work she gets to do... Perhaps I could do another degree? Once I have actually finished this one, I mean?

There was another place in the zoo I have heard of prior to visiting, from my manager at work. She told me of the penguin parade - every day at 2.15 pm at the penguin enclosure. She then did a little penguin dance, and how could I resist? I had to rush back from the chimpanzee house, and was worried for a moment I would not be able to find the penguins on time, but then I caughed a whiff of the air, and just followed my nose. I had no idea penguins stank like this. It's worse then fish, it's worse then chickens, it's something in between, intensified a number of times and then concentrated into a small concrete enclosure. Over a hundred penguins living in one place for years at a time produces a smell beyond description - you'd have to be there. And no, you did not get used to it; it came back more intense at every breath. But I did put up with it, for the sake of the parade - and because, in spite of the stench, the penguins were increadibly cute.

The parade.

2.15 sharp I was there, toeing the yellow line, and waiting for the penguins to come around. The parade is volountary - the gates are opened, and as many penguins as want to can join in a circular walk. They are not hearded, only assisted - they stop, investigate shoelaces and buggies, and move on eventually at their own wobbly pace.

King penguins.

I later found out from one of the keepers this is not the only parade that takes place. One of the king pengiuns is Nils Olaf the Third, grandson of Nils Olaf the First who was presented to the zoo by the Norwegan army. Nils Olaf the First was a private, but the military titles kept ammasing and finally Nils Olaf the Third was kighted in 2008. Every year the new cadets of the Norwegan army come to be inspected by this penguin who has proven to be 'a penguin in every way qualified'. This is so mad it hs to be true, for we are the strangest animal of all.

On the eggs.

Being hand-fed dead fish; unfortunately it's illegal to feed zoo animals live meals.

Some animals don't have it that good. The big cat enclosures, even though interesting and spatious, are clearly not big enough to contain a full grown tiger, or leopard.

They were pacing up and down, like prisoners, nearly rubbing their heads against the glass panes. They're eyes were crazed. I felt really sorry for them, but I think they are kept for conservation reasons.. A pretty pathetic argument, tading one sort of suffering for another really.

The lions were just sleepy. When they got into a marital grumble, their growling sounded exactly like someone igniting a Harley.

An unhappy looking monkey, lonely in its cage - it did not move from its perch all the time I was at the zoo.

The smaller mammals do much better. A pair of otters seemed to be having a time of their lives; but they do look insanely happy by default. Their enclosure, where there was no fence at all, only a low wall you could lean over to watch the two joyful things prance.

The prancing otters.

There were some rather big Australian mammals as well getting some proper attention, being hand-fed grapes by a gentle carer; it was heart-warming to watch, both the animals and the carer being extremely poilte and gentle, the rodens waiting for their turn, the carer distributing the grapes farily between the group.

Gentle relationship.

The rodents occupy an angle in an open aviery, sharwith an assortment of exotic pigeons, chickens, and, most notably, lorikeets. They are amazingly beautiful, but also head-splittingly noisy. The high-pitched schrieks they emanate left my ears literally ringing. The carers wear optional earplugs especially designed for dealing with their 'song'; in the end, as with many creatures, we forgive them for being annoying because they are so beautiful to look at, and will even come over and preen your hair for you, as I found out myself.

A pigeon, apparently. And a female too!

The cock adds to general confusion.
Lorikeets up close.

Closer..

And very close indeed. It was intrigued, and cooed at my camera, after which it took issue with my hairstyle (completely justified).

After all this I started making my way back to the exit, but kept being distracted by new discoveries. Such as the baboon enclosure, which was basically a big wide field with a number of trees and a rock. Around fifteen baboons of all shapes, sizes and ages were playing their social games, one group preening, the youngsters torturing one another with glee, and 'teenagers' hanging out at 'the cool tree'.

The cool crowd.

My last detour was a big enclosure for a pair of sea eagles. They were enormous, and nearly too good to be true, with cartoonish beaks and ruffled feathers. One of the keepers told me the enclosure they were in was originally a bear pit. The famous black bear Wojtek, who served in the Polish army, lived out his retirement there. The bear had been adopted by the soliders, and trained to carry heavy ammunition in the Seconf World War; there used to be a statue to him in the zoo, but it was donated in the end to the Polish community in Edinburgh.

Sea eagle.

The last view before I go - the places have changed, and the female is on top now. Marilyn Monroe of the sea lions.

The tiny place and the great sea, or St Andrews.

St Andrews, or rather, its sea.

When my dad visited me in Scotland, he was amazed how detailed the weather forecast was, how every little cloud was religiously delineated through its various transformations and tracked until it dissipated. Thanks to this British obsession with cloud spotting I was confident that while Edinburgh will be soaking with rain, 50km further North will be just fine. So me and Chattytoes went to St Andrews.

The horison disappears. On the lovers' rock, pairs of seagulls coo and peck one another.

It really had much less to show for itself then I expected; in fact, we had to go back to the High Street twice because I refused to acknowledge the town was actually that tiny. Later in the day we looked back at it from a distance, stretched along the coast, surrounded by hills, and it really is tiny. I expected something more alike to Cambridge, perhaps because of the University's reputation. So it was cute, but tiny, and had a wind-beated, desolate feel to it, possibly because the 7000 students who normally occupy it were all locked in the libraries writing their dissertations (one can hope).

St Andrews in the distance: an perspective from the East and from the North.

The most interesting part was the beach. It stretches for miles between the sea and the river, and the receding tide uncovers a perfect playing ground. Creatures large and small come to enjoy themselves, and the beach becomes many things.

Seagull spa.

Heron hunting ground.

Racing field.

We were content just walking, and taking note. I was jealous of the people with the great big kites though - I was not convinced about the tricycles and skateboards, but I too would love to be lifted off my feet and dragged along the beach by the sheer force of the wind.

Pleasures of the sea: the air, the sun, and the fried fish.

What I forgot about doing a PhD

I had some things to do Saturday, and I also really wanted the time to pass quicker, so I pretended it was another working day. My body seemed to buy into it, and woke up at seven thirty without prompting. I was at the office by nine; well, rather, I was in front of the building at nine. I took a moment for the security guard to stop disbelieving and actually open the door for me. According to the register I had to sign, there were five other people in the building at the time. Ah, sweet alienation.

I had considerable success in convincing myself it was a normal office day; I even had a tasteless ready-made plastic-packed pasta for lunch to complete the illusion. And when I got bored, or tired, I could always lie on the floor and stare outside the window for a while, or sit on my desk... and eventually put trainers on and leave, when I wanted.

The little pleasures.

It was a Saturday after all... so the rest of the working day was spent in Cafe Zanzero in Stockbridge, just me, a pot of tea, a laptop and, briefly, a blueberry cupcake... And so that day reminded me of the liberty and choice and paranoia which comes with PhDing - not exactly a trade off, but there are definite pluses.

Aah, my sweet cupcake...

Very Slow Polish Food

There is apparently a strong Polish community in Edinburgh, and its presence is especially felt on Gorgie Road. It immediately struck me, as it was my usual route to work, how many Polish stores there were, and how varied and specialised they were too.

A typical corner store, only, with the strictly Polish assortment of products, it could just as well be on a corner ofone of the streets in my home town.

A Polish Delicatessen, specialising in cold cuts (mmm).

And finally, even a Polish hair salon! Considering the importance of small talk therapy in dealing with emigration stress, totally understandable.

I have never taken advantage of those Polish-ness opportunities, apart from a single dash when I was hard pressed for pickled herring and beer. However, the finishing of my internship has given other people an idea of tapping into the Polishness resource.

The leaving celebrations started early, and already six days before I am due to move back home from Edinburgh my colleagues organised a leaving lunch. Maximise the enjoyment potential I say! One of my collegues is of Polish descent, so it was his idea for us all to convene in a tiny Polish restaurant down Gorgie Road, Cafe Kleofas, which I have passed a thousand times, but never tried. Normally open onlyin the evenings, the kind cook and owner opened it for lunch especially for our eight-strong group. Everything was freshly done - apparently that morning. We barely fitted in the tiny space, but we were made to feel very special, and the food was gorgeous.

Chicken soup with thinly sliced pancakes, perfect and just so, peppery and warm, such a home dish I was instantly homesick.

Kubus, a carrot and fruit juice loved or at least well known by all Poles, but I had to explain the complex history of Bobofruty to my foreign friends.


My neighbours' dish - kopytka (a sort of gniocchi) with pork in a wild mushroom sauce. Again, a traditional favourite.

The wise ones had pierogi, which were beutifuly soft, I truly believe they were made on the same day.

No Polish dinner is complete without a massive slab of cake, and the cheescake did not dissapoint. At the end we could barely move, let alone squeeze out of the tiny interior; a civil service working lunch, it took as two hours on the dot.

And a very, very reasonable bill too!