On Becoming Legal in Scotland

Like most of my fellow juniors who are abroad, this is the year when we turn 21, thus becoming legal adults (who still cannot rent a car from many major agencies). It's my birthday, and aside from doing fun things like wandering around Greyfriars' kirkyard and the city center with some friends, and then having cupcakes with a fellow birthday-child, and tea and cake with another friend, I went out to dinner.

Now, a lot of people get excited that it's their 21st and can drink legally; however, since we are in Scotland, people can legally drink when they're 18. Some of my peers have expressed the feeling that it is anticlimactic when they point out to the bartenders that they can legally drink in America. I am not really disappointed, because 21 is just like any other birthday because I don't imbibe alcohol because of religious prerogatives. Thus, I am left with a mild feeling of irony.

However, to celebrate, I did purchase a "Lemon and Lime Bitters," which is sweeter, less carbonated version of Sprite. It was a mixed drink, though! Something that I really appreciate here is the how okay it is to go to a pub and not order something alcoholic. Here in Scotland so far, I haven't felt weird or out of place not wanting to drink (although someone at the bar gave me a strange sidelong glance when I asked for something that was non-alcoholic, but that's his problem).

Irn Bru - Scotland in a Soft Drink

Today's mini-topic is the sugary, shock-orange soda called "Irn Bru."

So apparently, as I found out in St Andrews on Saturday, the drink "Irn Bru" is not in fact pronounced "Rrrn Bruuu" in a deep, guttural Scots accent like they lead you to believe on the can, but "Iron Brew." If they wanted people to say "Iron Brew," why didn't they just call it that?

"Rrrrn Brruu" is so much more fun to say. Imagine running around the Highlands in a kilt and facepaint with some of your friends, holding of these babies in your hands, shouting "Rrrrn Brru!" No one would know what you were saying - they would think it's some sort of way cry. Never would they guess that all these charging, be-skirted Scotsmen were really just ecstatic about their soft drink.

Long live Irn Bru!!! Which, although sugary, isn't all that great, which, as some Scots might tell you, is typical of their wonderful and beautiful country. (The prime example is football, or soccer for you really American-type readers.) Orange Fanta still beats it by the Royal Mile.

Images found on scotclans.com and gulfbusiness.tradeholding.com, of all places.

A Regular Day!

A regular day in Edinburgh is spent at the library. Two, actually. I started my morning off in the New College Library, which indeed looks like a "boy gingerbread version of Denison." Then I went to class, grabbed some lunch, went to the Main Library, read a ton, and was about to squeeze my eyes out of their sockets by the end of the day, and then went to class again. Another girl on the Butler programme is in my later class, and she lives in my block of flats, so we walked home together.

Highlights of the day, though, were running into acquaintances and friends in the street and on campus. Even if it was no more than a quick "hello," it was really nice.

Everything is always and forever nice.

St Andrews in a Day

I went to St Andrews on Saturday, and it was fun! I visited Beth Tracy, who received her Master's at CGU and is now working on her doctorate at the university. We saw the cathedral, the beach, the old castle, Beth's office, and her dorm-like apartment-thing.

Pictures!

You'll never guess where this was taken from.

Big cemetery...

Documented proof that Beth and I were there.

Unfortunately, my camera ran out of battery on this trip, so I only have so many pictures. Beth took these pictures, though. She wanted to show me the Saint Salvatore (pronounced "Sal-VAD-ar," like Darth Vadar), but there was a wedding going on. And there were kilts!

Aww, adorable little kilter...

"Stoic Piper"

He's wearing a family tartan, right there. The other tartans are a hired "Flower of Scotland." I know this because a Scottish woman came and sat on the bench next to us. He is actually dressed improperly - his socks should be dark.

A Day for Myself

Today I had a really nice day - and I'm going to leave it right there. I didn't take pictures because I forgot my camera, so there's nothing to see. Using my lack-o'-pictures as inspiration, I'm going to sign off and go write about my day in my journal instead.

Although I really like posting my adventures for you, Internet and assorted communities, to read, I want a few adventures all to myself.

And We're Off - First Day of School!

Modules have officially begun! It has been a long time coming, and it’s a relief to have some place to be and something to do with spare hours. After my first lecture in my Scottish Literature class yesterday (which introduced us to the overview of the course), I wandered around campus for an awkward hour between until my Greek Civilization lecture, trying to figure out what to do and where to go, and wondering how everyone seemed to have a bunch of friends that they automatically paired off with no matter what time of day it was or where they were going.

I thought I would have all three of my courses yesterday, but I ended up only having two. To give you an illustration of what administration at Edinburgh University is like, I will share this story: I found my classroom on the second floor of a real hole-in-the-wall building – literally. The entrance to the building was right next to two other doors, and it led immediately up a flight of steps because there wasn't enough space for an entire building. I opened the door to my classroom, and there was another student sitting at the corner of the gigantic seminar-like table.

“Fiction in Edinburgh?” I asked tentatively, and he said yes. It's surprising how quickly a wave of relief spread over me. I had found the right place, or if I was incorrect, then I wasn’t alone. The other students began to trickle in, and we exchanged awkward glances and smiles at our classmates. A redheaded Scottish student whipped out a copy of one of the books on our reading list, and the student sitting next to her followed suit with the same copy. Another student brought out a third copy, this time stamped with “Edinburgh University Library” on it and little pastel-coloured sticky flags jutting from the pages like a multi-colored stairway, telltale signs of having read the material. I began to be a little worried.

Another one of the visiting students – we stick out like sore thumbs – asked if were supposed to have read that. The other students, the Scottsish ones, said they had received an email from the instructor saying which parts they should read, and also some reading questions. I felt like an ostrich with no place to hide her head, awkwardly sticking out in a mass of black, white, and gray feathers.

The instructor came in, and was taken aback at the number of students patiently awaiting his erudite tutelage. He called this a typical “Edinburgh blunder,” saying that it was like the University to make the students come to the same class, when there’s really another section on Wednesday for the visiting students. I’m a bit bummed about that – I won’t get to have a seminar with Scottish students – but it means that instead of meeting twice a week for two hours, Fiction in Edinburgh will only meet once a week for two hours, which is much more reasonable, I feel, and more typical of the Scottish system. Needless to say that the confusion I felt when looking at my course schedule earlier today has been resolved.

I've spent most of today in the library, doing the required course reading and letting myself get distracted by perusing secondary sources. All of the instructors not only want us to read the material, but they want us to read commentary on them, which is something that is very interesting to me. As I understand it right now, we have a long list of suggested books and reading, but it's nice because I feel I have a lot more time and autonomy in figuring out what I want to read and when I want to read it. Also - I'll keep you updated on how that's going.

It has also been really nice to sit almost all day in the library, although I wish  I had a library buddy or two so that I could leave my stuff more easily in one place, go pick out a book, and then come back without having to load all of my stuff up. And I feel kinda bad blogging in the library - but I saw one girl on Facebook a few minutes ago, so I won't feel guilty.

Walking, walking, and more walking

I am walked out. Before coming to Edinburgh, I knew that I'd have to walk to a lot more places, and that the city was much more spread-out. However, there is a difference between knowing such a fact beforehand and actually having to experience it. Walking is all I seem to do here (gross exaggeration).

Last night, I missed the bus to Family Home Evening for the Young Single Adults, and I didn’t want to stick around waiting for the next one, so I walked. The terrain is completely flat, so it's not hard, it just takes a while, and when my shoes are not very comfortable, it makes me less inclined to want to make the journey.

Coming back after the activity, I managed to catch the bus. It was a mere ten-minute ride. It’s amazing how much more quickly one can get around with a car - and the difference conversation makes, because I met a fresher who goes to Church and lives only a few blocks from where I do (yay a bus buddy!). 

And not to say that I didn’t try to catch a ride home with someone; as far as I know, none of the Young Single Adults who attended tonight have cars. Some will soon have cars, but that is not helpful at this point in my life right now.

So, the take-home point is that the journey to Church is very long. Enjoyable, just lengthy.

Ceilidh Dancing

I think I might have found a new hobby: ceilidh dancing (pronounced kay-lee). It's a Scottish social event, and these particular ceilidhs are all about traditional dance. Forgive me if I have already talked about this, but it's so much fun, and it's worth mentioning again and again. You don't have to be good at this kind of dance, you just have to keep up.

I love twirling around and knowing exactly where to put my foot; I love feeling in tune with the music and the other people around me.

Do you see this?! I was there! I didn't make it into any of the photos, but I was doing this! 

I will be a dancer one day.

For more photographs, credits, and information, check out http://newscotland.org.uk/. Points if you can spot Cloud Strife wearing a kilt in at least two of the photographs on the site.

I Remember Why I Love Life so Much

Not to suggest that I didn't love life before, but this song reminds of the past-perfect utopia that we conjure in memories. The first time I heard this song, it was a very happy time, and a person I love shared it with me, and I just want to quietly, contentedly celebrate life whenever I hear it.

Iron and Wine - Love and Some Verses

If only songs didn't have to have endings...

I Bow to the Power of Folk Music

Last night, a Butler friend of mine, Emily, and I met up to go to FreshFest, which was supposed to be a huge array of performers and musicians showcasing their stuff, trying to get people excited to join their club at the club fair tomorrow. It worked well for about an hour, and it actually ended with the improve group I had wanted to see last night, but the tickets had been sold out – but it ended a t 9 p.m. when it was supposed to end at around midnight. Emily and I left and stood outside Pleasance, trying to decide what to do next. We consulted her handy Fresher’s Week orientation schedule, and there was folk music starting at 9 p.m. on 48a Pleasance. We found the correct door, marked “48a” in chalk on the side of the door. It was essentially what you would expect a university music festival to be: located somewhere really hard to find, but very amusing in its hard-to-findness.

For two hours, I sat on a wooden floor and listened as fiddlers, flutists, and guitarists strummed and made music. A lot of us were cramped together in a warm room with yellow-gold light. People struck up tunes, and other players would join in and try and follow along. If they didn’t know the tune, they would play notes to complement and harmonize.

There was something in that music. Any music, live, that you hear, you can feel pulsing within you. The beat seems to match the rhythm of your heart, and so something greater has come into being. There is a saying that when words fail, music speaks, and to me, last night, it spoke to something deeper and more ancient and more sophisticated than words. It invoked ancestral memories which I didn’t even know I had. I have only a few threads of ancestry coming from Scotland, but I was like I was remembering something, like the very blood in my veins was remembering what it was like to listen to this music, to be part of a folk music tradition that was enriched by people adding to songs and changing them and making them their own. To think of people sitting around a fire in their pittance-poor homes but clinging to and loving their traditions. It was like a glimpse into my own history, my past, my forebears.

I am now and forever will be a fan of folk music.

Goin' on an Adventure: The Royal Yacht "Britannia"

Today was as perfect a day as can be, however, I’m tired and will only post the first part of my day. I woke up, read some of my current book Three Cups of Tea, got ready, and then went with a buddy from IFSA-Butler (the program that I’m here in Scotland with). We went to the Free Trade Fair, which wasn’t terribly exciting because it was basically a bunch of companies giving us free coupons, entering hapless victims into raffles, and getting us to sign up for things we didn’t need. I got a free bag, a handful of vitamins, and lots of coupons.

Later, I went on a tour of the Royal Yacht Britannia. I met with several other Butler people who were going to go on the tour of the yacht. We waited a few minutes for our tour guides to show up, but then we were on our way (with free tickets and free bus passes, whoo!). A very warm bus ride and 40 minutes later, we stepped off the bus to a shopping center near the ocean. I didn’t really take note of what it was, other than it was a large building, until we got inside.

It was a mall, complete with a Boots pharmacy, Vodafone outlets, and a Gap. The floors were shiny and of some imitation marble, and the center of it was open and airy, just like newer malls back home in America (and coincidentally similar to Spain). What were we doing here? We went up two escalators to the third level of the mall, and the entrance to the Britannia was there, inside a mall. Yes, inside a mall. Once the group got past the postmodern consumerism, we were able to enjoy the fruits of monarchy and capitalism unhindered. Social commentary aside, the yacht was very pretty. I was a little disappointed because I thought it would be bigger and grander, but after realizing that it was the Royal Family’s real home away from home and a place where she could escape from the pressure and publicity of monarchical life, I understood why it was so sparsely decorated. I use “sparsely” as a loose term, here. The state rooms, such as the dining room and the living room, were quite lovely and impressive, even to an American bumpkin like myself.

Bridge of the Britannia

The weather here is also impulsive. It was cold and a little windy, but clear as any day in the Southwest of American, with bright blue skies. Then all of a sudden, just as Za Gaga and I were about to go out on one of the desk, a whipping rain came out of nowhere and pelted us. We scurried back to the safety of shelter and waited for the storm to end. We took a set of stairs to another part of the tour, and in the minute and a half it took us to climb the stairs, the rain had stopped. It was still pretty chilly, but at least it wasn’t raining.

Crazy Scottish weather.

Note: the deck is slick with water.

On the yacht, they make a specialty fudge. They had a free taster on the counter, and I tried the “triple-decker” flavor. As soon as I popped the candy in my mouth, I realized that one of the fudge layers was the same color as the whiskey-flavored fudge. Whether it was me or my imagination, I tasted something sweet and biting – and it was rather tasty. Lord, please forgive me if I have sinned by tasting something vaguely alcoholic – it was out of ignorance, and if I remember correctly the J. Golden Kimball stories my Dad tells me, it can be okay if "the Lord heard me say water." Not that that is at all a rationale for drinking alcohol if you are a Mormon. Please disregard this paragraph.

State dining room

State living room

Officer's quarters

Petty officers(?) quarters

Ominous skies? Or skies clearing after a freak storm? You decide.

Lots o' knots.

If you guessed that the second-to-last picture was of ominous skies, you guessed wrong.

Quotidian Life in Scotland

Although I haven't established much of a routine yet since classes have yet to start, I can still show you where I'm living! My living conditions are rather Spartan, but it's rather refreshing. I feel released from an oppressive amount of stuff.

And here are some gratuitous photos of the hike up Arthur's Seat I did a few days ago with another Butler buddy of mine.

On top of the world! Overlooking the Firth of Forth (say that five times fast).

My Butler buddy, Danielle, is in the blue jacket and the cap.

Only Pictures

Stuff I have been doing:

Cawdor Castle - it exists!

Stained glass in St. Margaret's Chapel at Edinburgh Castle.

Greyfriar's Bobby

Tall buildings from left to right: Appleton, David Hume (where I'll have at least one class), and then McEwan Hall is the big round dome.

Arthur's Seat

Edinburgh Castle at evening.

Me hiking up to Calton Hill (sp)

Hats!

Parad!

Nor Loch, beneath Edinburgh Castle.

This is the Place

Oh wow

Wow, there is almost too much to post about (even though I haven't been filling every minute of my time with activities from Fresher's Week). Last night I joined my residence flat in pub crawling, and there were quite a few long and awkward conversations, but I got to know some of the people in my hall, or at least recognize them more easily. I still haven't quite gotten the nerve to hang out with a lot of Scottish people yet, and I seem to make a lot of friends with the other Americans, which isn't one of the main goals of being here. Anyway, in one night I amped up the number of pubs I have been to in my life, and I did there exactly what I did in Madrid - I ordered a Coke.

Today, most of my morning was spent planning for how I was going to get to Church. I had an academic meeting at 12 pm, which is right in the middle of my meetings (and it takes a while to walk to Church, let me tell you, and riding the bus isn't any quicker). I skipped the first part of Church, went to the academic meeting and ordered a taxi to take me to Church, and I had a pleasant ride with the taxi man. He was telling me a bit about the Fringe festival here and the people he gets to meet, who are mostly Japanese or Americans, and about famous people he has driven around. The most famous person he taxied, he said, was Sean Connery, and he had sat right in the seat I was sitting in! Just imagine: my rump rested where Sean Connery's rump once rested.

I had a nice time at Church, and afterwards I walked back towards my flat with two American graduates who live relatively near me. They sent me on my merry way down the street, but I took a wrong turn and got a little lost. However, with the help of one of the other Americans from my program who lives in my block of flats, I was able to get home without too much trouble.

The next major event with the ceilidh, which is like a Scottish folk-dance night. Think of square dancing. Now think of Scotland. If you can imagine, combine the two, throw in a flute, an accordion, and some kilts, and you've got a ceilidh. Okay, the steps are a lot different and involve jumping, twirling, and heel-toe, heel-toe kicks, but the principle is the same. Oh, right, and you make a lot of circles and lines. Anyway. I had some good times.

That's all I've really done, but it's been so nice being here in Scotland and hearing the accents and being with these people, if only somewhat by proximity.

P.S. I've also figured out simple things like how to open my door and which keys to use, how to get to the grocery store, how to turn off the heater in the bathroom, and how to use the shower here. Who knew that you had to press a button for water pressure and then turn the nob? Don't know how to successfully change the water temperature, though, so this is still a work in progress. It's all this day-to-day stuff that's hard to adjust to at first.

P.P.S. Although I love Scotland, I think I'm missing Spain. A lot.

Adventures in Scotland: Edinburgh

After two weeks of journeying throughout the United Kingdom with my parents, and after arriving in Edinburgh four days ago, I have finally begun my program! As everyone else arrived, jet-lagged and disgruntled, I was pretty chipper and wanted to go out and take a few walks around the city, all of which I got a little lost on and had to "wing it" (though I got lost on purpose the third walk I took with my orientation roomie and a friend we met during dinner - whoo making friends).

Although I love my parents very dearly, and I am very grateful they took the time to fly out to the UK and to have the patience to deal with me, it was like a breath of fresh air to be on my own again. The evening I first met my parents in Frankfurt, I couldn't stop talking to them, and I was so happy to see them. The following two weeks were filled with sightseeing and traveling by car with them, after which everyone gets a little cranky. We were with each other all day, and although we had some very good conversations, I readily accepted my regained freedom.

Along with settling down into life in Edinburgh, it has a few striking differences to Madrid and America. For the first time in more than three months, my clothes don't stick to me with sweat. No more cold showers at 12:30 a.m. or leaving most of the water on my body to evaporate. No more waiting until the "hot part" of the day has passed before I can start doing errands on a Saturday.

The "downtown" of the city is actually pretty small. There are very few tall buildings, and there are tons of winding streets which are easy to lose yourself in. However, most of these streets go through, so it's not a problem. All in all, I think I'm going to like Edinburgh, a city which is big enough without being overwhelmingly huge.

I'm tired, so there will have to be more tomorrow.

Also: too much SEO makes me fizzle and fall apart and have haunting memories of Germans with keyboards.

This One Has Pictures II

I'm too lazy to describe what I've been doing. Instead, I'll put up a series of pictures, maybe with explanations, and let you interpret my artistic takings whilst in Scotland. Knock yourselves out.

Big Ben's clock tower.

Coronation carriage in the Royal Mews

Add caption

In Stratford-on-Avon

Guess whose house this was!!!

In the Scottish Highlands

Castle Urquhart on Loch Ness.

Oban, where I want to retire. You can retire even if you've never had a job, right? :P

I wish I had a stuffed monkey or other friendly curddly animal to pose and take pictures with.

This Isn't Wonderland: Mirror Driving

Okay, still trying to catch up...

Two days ago, my parents rented a British car, and we started the six-ish hour drive to Glasgow. Now might be a good time to remember that the British drive on the left side of the road, and the steering wheel is on the right side of the car. For all intents and purposes, it's like driving in a mirror.

Pulling out of the rental station was an exercise using the other half of my brain. It took a lot of effort to remember that for a left-hand turn, you don't have to wait very long, you just go. Right-hand turns were the hardest for me to wrap my head around - you have to go around and then make sure to land in the lane on the far side. Earlier, my darling father made a right turn into the far lane, but he started driving to the left, which meant that he was heading into oncoming traffic. I am disgusting myself, but in the words of Katy Perry, "It felt so wrong, it felt so right." I was momentarily confused because it seemed right automatically, but my developing British-senses knew that something was terribly, terribly wrong. A quick U-turn fixed the problem, but still rattling us.

One last word: British roads are all really narrow. Not fun when your driver tries to follow the line on the left side of the road instead of the right, and you end up hitting the curb ("verge" here)/trees/other cars. Okay, we didn't hit other cars, but there were a few close calls.

My Legs Are Ready to Kill Me

This post was written two days ago, althoug I'm only publishing it now. I'm sorry for the mixed-up timeline. When not hopping hotels every night and with a steady, private internet connection, things will settle down.

I actually did what I said I would do today: I went to Westminster Abbey, St. Paul's Cathedral, and the Tate Modern today. Add on top of that, we saw Parliament and Oliver, took three taxis rides, and walked over 15,000 steps today. I feel accomplished. I conquered the Earth today! Or part of it, anyway.

My favorite part of the day was Westminster Abbey - I loved the Lady's Chapel and standing in the presence of the remains of so many important people in Britain's history: Henry II, Henry IV, Elizabeth I, Mary I, Mary Queen of Scots, Milton, Spenser, Chaucer Gerard Manely Hopkins, Benjamin Disraeli, Newton, Darwin... Although some of those people aren't necessarily buried there, they have anything ranging fro ma small plaque to a gargantuan monument in their name.