We Ate Jam and Bread for Dinner

Castle Campbell

Upon returning from Belfast, Brendan and I had some time to spend in Edinburgh as our dear parents traversed the seas of Scotland in pursuit of the finest whiskey. So we switched into frugal mode, something I was already well versed in from living in a country whose currency was stronger than my own. I introduced my brother to the wonders of the local bakery, Peckham’s, which he quickly came to love. It’s a classy place, with all types of spirits, locally made ciders, and freshly baked loaves of bread. And tiny jars of jam, which we bought along with the bread and that was... most of our meals, actually.

We made a quick trip to the Royal Veterinary School for Brendan’s sake, but it wasn’t terribly impressive. In fact, it seemed that the best part of the trip was this addition to my album of humorous signs:

The best choice we made of the whole visit was to go to a little place called Castle Campbell. I found it in my Historic Scotland member handbook, which said that it was located outside Stirling and was only accessible through a forest glen. I saw the words ‘strong footwear required’ and I was determined to go. We had to take two buses to get there, and there was a bit too much time waiting in each station due to unlucky timing. At one point I even turned to my brother and told him ‘I really appreciate you riding buses and waiting in stations with me all day’. But no amount of unfortunate timing mattered once we stepped into the tiny town of Dollar, which had maybe one rotary. As we walked through the town towards the castle, we enjoyed many a friendly greeting from various elderly people who seemed to be the only residents of the town.

We passed through a narrow opening in a stone wall, followed a path through a lovely park along a babbling brook and, of course, a golf course, and then all at once it was there. A hidden, isolated paradise of green. The forest glen amazed me and my brother both, and I cannot really describe how incredible it was to be there without a care in the world, enjoying the country for its beauty after the rocky semester of rainy weather and depersonalized education. We spent the majority of our time in the glen, actually, and when the castle peeked over one of the cliffs it came as a surprise to us.
We finally did venture to the crumbling structure, and we were greeted by two kindred employees and a virtually empty place to explore. And explore we did. The castle amazed me, but the gardens were even better. Flowers of so many shapes and kinds, from rhododendrons to roses to tiny intricate ones I didn’t know the name of. I took many a picture of everything, and I was saddened to leave.
The next day, Brendan and I got up early and finished packing the rest of my room, and I happily left those freshman dorms forever. We headed over to the bus station, running a bit with all of my semester’s worth of luggage, and made our way to Glasgow on an intercity bus. This was my first visit to Glasgow, and it was a strange experience, because we had one goal: make it to the Botanic Gardens to meet our parents, since they were flying into Glasgow from Islay (the isle of Laphroaig). We boarded a bus, thinking that we would just know when we were in the gardens, as they are rather self-explanatory. Luckily, we had asked the driver, and he called out the stop on a seemingly random street, which the gardens were hidden behind. We camped out on a bench with all of our things, only to find that these gardens were the playground of the local boarding school, so my brother and I took turns walking through the greenhouses as the unlucky one stayed behind to watch the bags and get giggled at by much too young schoolgirls and being glared at by much too wealthy schoolboys.

Our parents came at last to the rescue, and we quickly boarded our rental car and headed north, to the lochs!

A Brotherly Visit

Whew. Almost didn't post for an entire month. Good thing I'm more on top of it than that... by a couple of days. Posting in quick succession now the rest of my adventures, which were numerous at the end. Enjoy, and thanks for continuing to come back!

Exams finished, and about a week of not a whole lot to do, my brother came to visit! He arrived into Edinburgh on a Friday, and our plans were already made for that weekend. We awoke on Saturday and headed straight back to the airport, but this time for a more local flight. We flew to Belfast, Northern Ireland on Saturday afternoon, a flight that ended up seeming shorter than the time we spent in the airports.

Upon arriving in the Belfast airport, we saw the best advertisement in the world. In a long stretch of tunnel to the street exit, both walls were covered in a continuous image of an apple orchard. Every few feet, there were little statements wishing you to enjoy this simple walk through the orchard, and relax just for now, and only at the end was there a small wooden table with a pint of Magners on it. Quite lovely really. And I drank Magners as much as possible just for that.

Didn't manage to get a picture of the wall, but this was at the end (and the only part of it online)

We took the bus into Belfast and found our youth hostel, tossing our things down and heading out into the city. We did a fair amount of walking, and I was the most impressed by the Queen’s University, but not too much else. That may have been influenced by the fact that it was drearily cloudy (but no real rain, as usual) as it had been in Edinburgh ALL week long, despite the fact that I finished exams right before that week. I know, right? This lack of being at the center of a world is irritating me. Anyway, I was pretty depressed by so much drear, but the sun did peek out a bit when we found the Botanic Gardens, which made me a bit cheerier. After a dinner at a restaurant a bit too nice for the clothes we were wearing, we went to bed for an interrupted night’s sleep due to our fellow hostel goers, and awoke early the next morn for our bus tour to Giant’s Causeway.

The weather for this day was still scattered and cloudy, but enough so to let the sun shine and dance among them, so I was contented. The bus took us to all manner of places on our way north, including a famous distillery where I bought a small book of Irish Songs, and a castle whose most important feature was its murderholes (according to our guide). We also passed very close by to County Antrim, where our great-great grandparents hailed from. I learned much more about this from my Grandma Peggy just recently, and I wish I had known all I do now when I was there, but I enjoyed the country all the same, which I hope showed them good respect. And I did wonder if they'd ever been to the Causeway...
A stranger natural phenomenon I am not sure I have seen. It looked like someone’s attempt at abstract art turned into solid geometrically shaped rocks. Brendan and I clambered over them excitedly, noticing the worn ones, the differently shaped ones, and then, in one area, the ones sheltering and harboring flowers. But then I discovered that one of the amazing parts of the Giant’s Causeway is the surrounding countryside, which was beautiful. It had that familiar rugged quality that Scotland did, and with the scattered clouds and teal sea lapping at the rocks, it was quite beautiful.

We made one more stop on our way back down to Belfast, which was at a well-known rope bridge. Now, Brendan and I were excited for this, because we both had unrealistic and different expectations. I expected it to be terribly dangerous, with two ropes on each side to hold onto, but differently spaced wooden planks to step across, kind of like the one in Shrek or countless other movies with great chasms and rope bridges. Brendan, on the other hand, thought it would be a bridge with two ropes on each side and one thick rope along the bottom to walk across. Sadly, we were both very disappointed by the actual thing. Not only was it a double reinforced bridge with what looked like traces of steel on it, it had solid wood planks without any spaces in them, and webbed rope all along the sides. AND it cost £5. I guess the days of needlessly endangering one’s life are over (editor’s note: or are they? stay tuned for the Ben Nevis post). So we passed on that one, with its long lines which reminded me a bit of a Dr. Seuss book.

The star-bellied Sneetches had stars upon thars.

The Day to Day

I found a tree!

It has been pointed out to me that ever since my first couple of posts, I’ve just been posting about all of the adventures I’ve been enjoying, and I haven’t really told about everyday life in Edinburgh. I admit that I have quite a bit of down-time here, and I am not in fact spending all of my time gallivanting from Rome to Skye.

As I outlined way back in the beginning of the semester, the Folk Society meets every Tuesday. I’ve attended very regularly, only missing a few of them, and I’ve loved it. Sadly, the last meeting of the year, and for me forever, was last Tuesday. Luckily, I brought my camera, and took many pictures of the wonders that are FolkSoc. Here’s one:


But that still leaves a lot of time, so there’s more. I have taken up reading for pleasure again, which was a strange and alien concept to this Philosophy major. I think the reason for that lies in how many dense philosophical readings I’ve been through, or maybe it was the stress of the American collegiate system. Whatever it was, I decided back in February to start reading more, and I stumbled across the perfect thing: an independent book store that sold only fantasy & science-fiction books. It is called TransReal Fiction, and it is solely and entirely run by one soft-spoken, brilliant man. I fell in love with the store immediately, and I have already made my way through an absolutely incredible trilogy, and have since begun another. One of my favorite things to do, and what will likely be one of my favorite memories, is reading whilst lying in a bed of comfy moss in Holyrood. Sadly, I haven’t been able to do that as much now that I’m done with exams, due to the week of rain I’ve been greeted with. The whole constantly rainy and never above 60°F even in May thing is wearing on me, I must admit.

Oh! I haven’t even told you about exams yet. Well. They were... enlightening. The university system is drastically different in many ways from Connecticut College, and this system was one of the most different. For one, my classes actually stopped meeting back on March 30th. Then there was three weeks of spring break, which seemed a little longer than necessary, but as you know I managed to spend it in an enjoyable fashion. Then, and I’m not kidding here, the exam period stretched from April 20th-May 30th. Over a MONTH of exams. And with only three classes, that being the full course load, I had only three exams, all scheduled by the university. I was relatively lucky with the spacing of my exams, as they were each a week apart, ending on May 15th. Other friends had some in the same day, or none until late May, or all right away. The University is a bit too big to care about how the schedules work out for the individual.

I never thought I would say this, but I prefer the stress. I prefer the crazed and hectic finals week where one teeters very close to insanity and consumes unhealthy food like a bear hibernating for winter than a long drawn-out process. I prefer having a week of hell, followed by watching your immune system crash after it held itself up by confusion at what was happening to you than a drawn out month of exams where stress is like a vagabond uncle who never visits. I studied for each exam the whole week leading up to it, and it was difficult because I always had the exams looming over me, and so I never felt free. I studied well, and felt great about the exams, but I feel as though with five American finals weeks under my belt, I could have done just as well with all three in one week.

The exams themselves were also fascinating. Each took place in some intimidatingly large room filled with desks and proctors. My first one was in some sort of classroom, but the second was on the floor of the main lobby of an enormous building, and my third was in a gymnasium. A full-sized gym. Coming from a college of 2,000 with self-scheduled, un-proctored exams, I was a bit out of my element. But at last they are finished, and I can go back to my honor code college of stress - or rather, purpose.

So that’s my life here. I learn folk songs, read, go for walks, sing folk songs, read some more, and relax. Oh, and I take many trips to my local bakery, and always keep a stash of bread and olive oil, since my dorms don’t serve lunch. All in all, not too bad.

My brother arrives tomorrow! We’ll head out to Northern Ireland for a weekend to visit Giant’s Causeway, arriving back on Monday just in time for my parents to arrive. They then of course abandon us to go to a whisky festival, but we’ll keep busy with day trips until we meet them in Glasgow to drive into the wilds and into adventure. Keep checking back, this trip has a few more stories yet.

The Isle of Skye - The Beauties That Be

The third week of my official spring break was spent in a friend’s flat (the dormitories were being rented out, forcing me to move out for all three weeks) trying to catch up on sleep and feverishly writing my thesis proposal, which was due that Wednesday. I finally sent it off, and then prepared for the second and last IFSA-Butler weekend trip, which was going to the Isle of Skye. Now, I should mention that while it was nice and relaxing to be back in Edinburgh, I was a little depressed at how cold and rainy it was all week long, especially after my time in Rome. But Friday morning came, and it was with sleepy eyes that I walked to our meeting place to leave at 7:45am under dreary skies.

The bus ride up to Skye was broken up in several places for different sights, and it was with great joy that we stopped at a place called Queen’s View, because it seemed to stand in stark contrast with the rest of the country in how sunny and beautiful it was. We walked down a lovely hill to see Loch Tummel up close, but unfortunately there was hardly any time at all for the stop, and I nearly stayed there, staring out at the sun’s reflection on the Loch from a rock far past where anyone else had ventured.

After stopping for lunch further along the way, we made our next stop at the Culloden battlefield. This was a place where an incredible number of Scottish clans fought the English (or rather an army of mercenaries for the English) and suffered a catastrophic defeat. This part of Scotland was as overcast as the rest, and it made for a very sad and somber visit. Walking across the field, learning intriguing but bloody history from our tour guide, and seeing all of the headstones that represented so many people made for a very reflective experience.

So when we arrived into Skye, what an amazing contrast and surprise it was to see that it was incredibly sunny! There was hardly a cloud in the sky, which seems hardly possible in Scotland. After settling into my single room in the hotel (yay!) I had dinner with my friends and then walked off to enjoy the sunset. This was the best part of my trip, really. I walked up to the Skye bridge, which our village (Kyleakin or the Gaelic Chaol Acain - many in Skye are native Gaelic speakers) was right next to, and watched the sun set from its initial descent in the sky until its final slow fade of dull red glow. I walked up and down the bridge at the slowest pace I could, stopping several times and just staring at the eternal beauty of sun. I watched until it lowered itself below the mountains and then retired to a bench by the shore to enjoy the final moments of dusk. I was joined there by a stray cat, and we sat happily just watching the color of the sky slowly give way to night’s embrace.
I woke quite early the next day and found the quaint little village shop, and the lovely pier behind it, where I bid the sun good morning, and fully appreciated that there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, yet again. Soon enough, we all hopped on the buses and made our way to the Old Man of Storr. Though I have never been there, I am told that there is a similar structure of rock in New Hampshire with a similar name. Regardless, it was breathtaking, and the idea stuck firmly in my mind that Peter Jackson actually did film parts of Lord of the Rings here, and he was covering that up for whatever reason. Even if not, though, I can content myself to think that J.R.R. Tolkien was from England and probably got some inspiration from here. Here’s a picture to justify my ramblings:

Climbing up to the Old Man was no small feat, but I was a little proud to see that the group quickly segmented by level of speed people were climbing, and I was at the very front (thanks dad and Brendan for all those years in the Quetico and the Superior Hiking Trail). As I said before, it was breathtaking, and I appreciated it all the more when our tour guides recounted last year’s experience of not being able to see two feet because of the intense clouds and rain. It was really an amazing experience, and I enjoyed every second of it, especially how good it felt to hike again.

After that, we headed to Dunvegan Castle, which had pretty gardens, albeit with odd concepts:
The castle itself was more of an impressive mansion than anything else, and I for one was put off by the room with its viewing-hole to a basement dungeon in between the dining room and the study. But I really enjoyed the castle’s grounds, even though it was there that my camera’s battery took its last picture for the weekend (forgot to recharge after break). That night brought another lovely sunset, which I decided to watch from the ruins of a castle that was also by the village where I stayed (great village, really). Watching a sunset from the ruins of a castle is a really unique experience, and I duly and immensely appreciated it. I wrote a bit, but it got a bit too chilly, so I just wrapped myself in my coat and enjoyed the evening sky.

The next morning I awoke early once more and headed out to the pier for my last moments on the Isle that weekend. I happily wrote in my journal, feet dangling over the edge of the pier, occasionally stopping to stare out at the water and sigh. We boarded the buses and left very shortly after that, and I sadly bid the Isle (sunny for the third day in a row) farewell. On our way back down to Edinburgh, we stopped in several different places, which I enjoyed, but dare I say it, I was a little overwhelmed with all the beauty, so the stops became a bit much after a while. The stop I enjoyed the most was at Loch Ness, and though I did not see any sign of Nessie, I did see an enormous swan that might as well have been. I took the time to write and eat bread (favorite food basically) as I wrote overlooking the sunny expanse of water. I also read some of the informational signs, and it turns out that Loch Ness is enormously deep, and there actually is a possibility of a monster living there, in a Loch that contains more fresh water than all of the lakes in England and Wales combined.

After that quiet break, I reluctantly left and boarded the buses once more for Edinburgh. Finally arriving back and being allowed back into my dorm was great and refreshing, but I was a bit sad that the weekend ever ended. It was a perfect end to my three-week break, and I was blissfully happy at how lovely, quiet, and reflective it was.

A Spring Journey - Roma II

My last few days in Roma were the best by far, and served as an excellent conclusion to the two long weeks of travel. Friday brought an early wake-up time and a walk down to Piazza Navona, where I arrived quite early, so I proceeded to study and appreciate the fountains as the empty square began to see its vendors slowly arrive and set up shop. Emily came down from her flat and she, Maria, and I all headed to the Villa Borghese to find the Galleria Borghese for a field trip for their class. This was not terribly easy, but the stress was overcome by the beauty of the ever-expansive Borghese gardens, which I had briefly explored the Tuesday before, and where we were determined to have a picnic. We arrived at the Galleria only a little late, and were greeted by their professor, who proceeded to give us a tour of the museum. As I’ve said earlier, museums and monuments aren’t at the top of my interest in foreign cities, but this was quite the experience. We wandered slowly through, stopping to appreciate the spectacular works of art, many of which were depicting ancient mythological stories. My favorite was the sculptures, which were absolutely breathtaking. How the sculptors managed to put such intimate detail into stone to create these intricate masterpieces I am not sure I shall ever comprehend. The Galleria was incredible, and having a tour was excellent, and much needed for my terribly limited experience with those types of art.

On our way back to Piazza Navona, we found a zoo!! We didn’t go in, but it was very grand and we just happened upon it, which made it all the better. After wandering a bit more around the area, we headed back to Emily’s flat to buy groceries to prepare a picnic! I invited Chris Muscatello, a friend and fellow ConnArtist who was also in the SATA program, and he, Emily, Sofia, Kayla, and I all headed happily out to Villa Borghese. We sat amongst some lovely green grass on Emily’s Turkish blankets, and had a wondrous picnic. Here’s a picture from that, featuring Chris and our refreshments, which turned out to be an excellent modeling job:

(buy these things)

That night, Chris and I had a bit to drink, and then decided to fulfill our earlier plan of singing together in a video for the ConnArtists. It was a pretty hilarious venture, needing over three takes due to technical and singing difficulties, but the result was a great one: Chris singing a Creed song as a tribute to the ConnArtists and me jumping in at the first chorus as a surprise. Went back to the hostel that night happily, as it would be my last night there, and the next morning I packed up and headed over to my Bed & Breakfast I had booked for the weekend, which was in an apartment tucked right next to the Vatican.

Saturday was probably my favorite day of my entire stay in Roma. After moving into my lovely B&B where I had my own room for the first time all break, I met up with Emily to go exploring all day long. We went to some of the more notable places I had not yet been, like the Coliseum, and then explored beyond them. The Coliseum was grand and amazing, but I really enjoyed all of the little secret places and alcoves we found around it, which the Forum provided especially well. Whilst walking in the more residential areas surrounding the Forum, we walked down a very local road with lovely restaurants lining it, and then we suddenly happened upon a secret garden!!! It wasn’t entirely secret, but it definitely felt like it, especially given our manner of discovering it. It was full of statues overgrown with foliage, beautiful flowers, and several meandering cats. It was then that I really appreciated the fact that I was in a Mediterranean country, surrounded by such unending beauty. Spring was in its full arrival the entire week I was there, and it provided amazing and stunningly beautiful weather all week long. Here’s a picture from that lovely, wonderful garden:

After that, we meandered through a set of archways and found a convent with orange trees! It was a pretty intimidating convent, though, so we did not investigate. We made our way out of that amazing area and found ourselves by the Circo Massimo, where Romans used to have chariot races and the like. All it was now was a large circular dirt path filled with people cycling, lounging, or being couples (Rome is a city of very affectionate people, often publicly so). We walked along, enjoying the beautiful weather, and gazing out at the enormous ring of parkland. We even saw a small child with blindingly blonde hair riding a bright red bicycle, which made me feel as though I was suddenly in America in the 1950s, and I felt strangely sad that I wasn’t holding an ice-cold Coca-Cola. We then made it back to the river, which we walked along happily, talking all the way, until we found Piazza Navona once more. Exhausted and bewildered at such a great amount of beauty, we ate dinner and retired early to get ready for the next day...

Which was Easter! One of Emily’s professors in her program is involved in some important way with the Vatican, and was able to get us all tickets for Easter Mass, which was amazing luck for me. I wore my Sunday best and met Emily and the other Conn students, and we walked to the Vatican for a very strange experience. It started out rather oddly, with people positively running to get good seats. I tried to capture the frenzy in a picture, but I did not succeed, sadly. We got in (admittedly at a fast-paced walk) and found some good seats in the front section, only to settle down for a two hour wait. We talked and enjoyed the people watching as the crowd filed in. People from all different countries were there, many groups bearing their flags of origin. People were also wearing all different types of outfits. I was wearing the best that I had with me, khakis and a blue button-down, and I had initially feared that I would be underdressed, which was an incorrect assumption. I saw all sorts of outfits, from tourist to all-khaki to model to gangsta (just look at the album, you’ll see). I was so confused. But then, at long last, the processions began. My memory is blurry on who exactly entered when, but there was a band, a group of fake-looking Vatican guards, another more important looking band, and I believe some Swiss guards were even there. It was quite a spectacle, made even more so by the mad cheering that ensued when the Pope himself processed to his golden throne. He passed less than twenty feet away from me, in fact, here he is:

So the ceremony began. It too was very odd. At times it was a religious ceremony, and the entire crowd was hushed as the Pope read prayers or the choir sang (not being able to see them gave a good religious effect), and then at other times it was a crazy political rally, with chants of the Pope’s name and flags waving like mad. This happened especially forcefully during the benediction when the Pope said ‘Christ Be With You’ in about 37 different languages, with the people from each country cheering wildly when their country was named and language spoken. And then it was over. A really spectacular event, and a very strange one, but I was so grateful to experience such a unique opportunity. Also, the ease with which everyone left also amazed me, and made me realize how much Rome was built for big crowds of people.

After going briefly back to my B&B and packing all of my things, I met with Emily again and we spent the afternoon exploring once more, except in a very different setting. We went to a place called Testaccio, which we decided upon because of the large grassy hill on my perspective map, and the pyramid that was in the area. As it turned out, it was a very bizarre, run-down part of town, and the hill we had seen was just a wildly overgrown hill with no access to it. Not only that, but there were bars that looked like they belonged in the American Wild West, including one named ‘Coyote’. And just like in old movies where a man walks past a diner in the middle of nowhere and everyone just stares at him - that happened to Emily and I. We were walking past a gelato place, and we looked in and everyone just stared at us, not talking to each other, as creepy music quietly played in the background. I felt as if I had traveled in space and time, but not entirely for the better. That made the pyramid, when we finally made our way to it, even more disorienting than it would normally have been. But we were grateful for the unique experience and different side to the city, however strange it was.

That night, Emily and I and a few others all watched Singin’ in the Rain while eating some home-made macaroni & cheese, and I was so happy to do so. It was a wonderful end to my time there, just sitting with my friends, watching such a wonderful movie (and finally understanding it as I didn’t entirely as a child). It was a wonderful trip, I learned quite a bit from my experiences, and I enjoyed every bit of it. Thanks for reading! More soon about my final experiences in Scotland - today marks one month until I head back!

A Spring Journey - Roma I

After the lovely train ride from Venice, I arrived in Rome for my first time. In efficient traveler mode, I quickly found the subway system, bought a week-long ticket and set out to find my hostel. It was across the river in the Vatican area from the central part of Rome, and I loved it. It was called Hotel Colors, and it stayed true to its theme with clever interior decorating and a great character in general. My favorite part about it was the wonderful terrace! I had not expected this at all, and I was quite happy. I was there to meet Emily, but as I was settling into my cozy hostel, she was either in a nowhere-town in Germany or en route to Italy from it, as her trip back from Amsterdam was unfortunately riddled with misfortunes. So, I settled in and headed out to explore the city in the afternoon. I ended up getting terribly lost (as usual) and ended up walking around for a good four hours. I found my way to a nice path by a bar on a cliff overlooking the city as the sun set, however, so I wasn’t too unhappy. That night I went back to my hostel and met my new roommates - two from the Midwest (no way!) of the states, and one from Southern Italy, coming up for a few days as he does every week to attend his grad program. His name was Sebastiano, and he was my favorite.

On Tuesday morning I sat out on the terrace, eating my bread, grapes, and juice, and writing a draft of my thesis proposal, which was due about a week from then. I loved that really, feeling the breeze and the sun on that terrace (I want one sometime) and being so at ease, even when writing a nerve-racking proposal. Eventually I left and headed over to the train station, where I met Emily as she got off her train from her nightmare of travel. So nice of you to visit me in Rome! We headed back to her flat together, which just so happens to be in Piazza Navona (wow!). After climbing up the numerous flights of winding stairs to get to their floor, I was given a tour of their place, and I must say, it was very strange. Emily and about eleven other students from Connecticut College are part of a Study Away Teach Away program through the college, and as such they were staying with about six other non-Conn students and all living on the same floor, with all of their classes only one floor down. This concept truly baffled me, and I had trouble understanding who came up with the idea and why. It was very convenient, yes, but it was drastically different from my University experience, and I was just confused at the concept of being in a big city and living and going to class in one building. Very strange. But, luckily, we were in a very big city, and being in Piazza Navona meant walking out the door brought the city to you.

Thesis Proposals have never been so beautiful.

Emily and I decided to go exploring that afternoon, which we did for most of the week, and it was by far my favorite activity. We walked down to Piazza del Popolo and found the outskirts of the Villa Borghese. I’m not going to try to pretend what that translates to, but what it meant to me was ‘enormous parkland and gardens weaved together by labyrinthine paths’, which seems like a pretty good translation. We explored it in the beautiful endless sun of Roma, and the wondrous lush, green life that burst forth everywhere made me love the city at once. That night, Emily, her friend Maria, and I all went to a place that I believe was called ‘Buffetto’, which I was told translates to ‘Mustache’. It was a pizza place right by Piazza Navona, and it was the BEST PIZZA EVER. We waited in a line out the door, as there reputedly always is at this place, and waited for a good while, which we were very quickly grateful for. It was, in all honesty, the best pizza I have ever had.

Wednesday was relatively slow and relaxing. It was my last morning at Hotel Colors (I booked late, so I ended up booking three different places), so I soaked up the rays on the terrace once more and added substantially to my thesis proposal as Emily attended class. The afternoon found me moving out of Hotel Colors and heading over to my second hostel, which had directions from the nearby Metro station as being ‘three bus stops, or a short walk’. Of course I opted for walking and 30 minutes later I found the damnable place, which I had originally thought was in the Vatican area. To be fair, most of the walking was in the Vatican area, but that area ended after I had to cross four lanes of traffic on a very busy road, pass a Mitsubishi dealership, and walk down a dead-end street to reach the hostel. It was no Hotel Colors, I am afraid. The place was a bit of a mess, and the receptionist declared me lucky when she was able to find a key for me to have, after giving me €5 in petty change when I paid my deposit for it. Tired, sweaty, and unamused, I left at once to meet up with Emily again, which took close to an hour. Deciding at once that I needed a good drink, Emily, her friend Kayla, and I all went to the bar where I had gotten lost on Monday (I had since bought a beautiful map to guide me back there). We enjoyed a lovely aperitivo whilst looking out over the city as the moon rose and the sun slowly set behind us. It was an amazing way to relax, and I wanted then to have aperitivo every day for the rest of my life (a dream that has sadly gone unrealized... I don’t think they even know what a cocktail is in Scotland). We retired to Emily’s flat and enjoyed some lovely ravioli before I had to face running a marathon back to the new hostel. Which reminds me, the public transportation system in Rome is most certainly not the best. I finally figured out some buses to use towards the end of my time there, but walking was usually the method of choice and necessity.

Lovely Aperitivo

On Thursday, Emily went off to chill with the Pope (oh, did I mention the week I was there was Holy Week?) at some Mass or another, so I set out to explore some gardens I had seen on my map. The only advantage to the inconveniently located hostel showed itself that day, as I found a bakery with enormous loaves of bread for incredibly cheap prices. I didn’t even try to speak English either, as it was obviously a local place, and I wanted to respect that as much as possible. After seeing gardens from afar but never managing to reach them (too many walls here! Paranoid Roman Empire...), I gave up and spent the morning reading whilst looking out over them, which seemed just as good. In the early afternoon, I met Emily and enjoyed more pizza at a little café by their flat. The afternoon passed without much avail, and I went to dinner in Trastevere that night at a ridiculously cheap restaurant, which was good, but not the best of my time there (and my papa makes much better bruschetta anyway). Emily, Kayla, their friend Sofia, and I then went off to Piazza Navona where we enjoyed some cocktails and joyous conversation at one of the numerous bars. I had my first Long Island Iced Tea there, which I found ironic noting that I go to school on Long Island Sound...

That’s all for this entry. I didn’t want to make it too long, so I’ll post my stories of Friday-Sunday soon. Oh, and just click here if you want to see all of my pictures from the trip. Thanks for reading!

A Spring Journey - Venice

On Friday, April 3rd I boarded the train to Venice at about 8:30pm, and it was scheduled to arrive at about 8:30am. I’ve been on long train rides before, like my most recent lovely Amtrak ride from Connecticut College back to Minnesota. But I’d had a sleeper car on the longest stretch of that ride, which I did not for this one. I was sitting in a six person compartment, much like the trains in Harry Potter, and I was accompanied by five strangers. We all had to put aside our comfort zones for the duration of the trip, a fact which we came to learn and realize rather slowly and awkwardly, but surely. So, the train ride passed without much incident or sleep except for a blessed few hours when two of our number left, and the person next to me and I were able to stretch out on the folding chairs. We were soon interrupted by newcomers, however, and needed to sit back in our chairs and try the best we could to sleep upright. It was not particularly enjoyable, but at least I wasn’t sitting or standing in the hall, which I didn’t even know was possible. There’s always a bright side, and as the sun rose, I watched it do so over the Italian countryside as I sat there, bleary-eyed, and was grateful.

The train arrived into Venice, and I went to the tourist information booth to wait in a very long line to buy a map and learn about events going on during the weekend, which is how I got a tip about one of the best things I would do in Venice: a free organ concert on Saturday night. Blinking back sleepiness, I stepped outside and took in the slightly overcast skies and the canal that stretched out in front of me. I made my way to my hostel, only to be informed that the place I was staying was a few bridges down the road (that’s the closest thing to blocks they have in Venice, I’ve decided - it’s quite a maze of a city). The room was not ready, so I left my things there and ventured out to take care of a traveler’s business: buy a local SIM card and find food to eat. I was gross, tired, and hungry after that train ride, causing these simple tasks to actually be stressful to me. I quickly found a Vodafone store, and got a card with €5 on it, which amazingly lasted me my entire time in Italy. I then found a pizza place and ordered a calzone. “Are you sure? It comes in this size box.” the man had warned me. Oh yes, that’s great, said I, ravenous. An hour later I was still trying to finish it at a tiny park I found. Afterwards, to recover from the sleep and stress, I enjoyed a spritz, the ‘drink of Venice’ which Kate (who had studied there a little over a year ago) had suggested to me, from a canal-side bar. It was really amazing, and a good precursor for my love of having drinks in Italy.
Much more refreshed, I began to wander Venice and get thoroughly and completely lost. I actually really enjoyed doing so, because Venice is a beautiful city. It does have some downsides, like the number of tourists (and street vendors), and the lack of expansive parkland (almost necessary given its size though). But I can also see why it would be an inspiring place for musicians, and I saw the result of that first-hand when I attended the free organ concert that night.

After a dinner of bread and strawberries from the local market (saving money for Rome), I put on my nicest clothes and made my way to a rather impressive church on the north side of Venice. The concert was incredible, and I especially liked it for several different reasons. First, I was by myself, and it was the first organ concert in my life that I just sat and really appreciated, without any distractions. In front of the pews where everyone sat was an empty altar and massive paintings scaling the walls, while the organ sat neatly above the entrance to the church. This meant that I just gazed at the paintings and the incredible arches of the place as the music poured out from behind me, majestically resonating through every corner of the church. This was one of my first experiences with churches in Italy, and it was a good indicator of how seriously they take their religious spaces. The organist performed wonderfully, and I wrote at length about the concert in my journal, and I hope to write a poem about it soon.

I went to bed immediately after the concert, briefly meeting my five hostel mates as I did so, all quite kindly but I did not have many more interactions with them. The next morning I awoke early and went to explore more of Venice, this time going down to San Marco, the giant square with its impressive monuments and soaring cathedral. I just made it into the center of the square when I heard amplified singing coming towards me, and I turned to see a procession of people bearing palm fronds, intermittently broken by groups of guitarists, a few singing into microphones, all of them led by a group of important-looking priests. I had not realized that it was Palm Sunday. Before I knew it, the procession had surrounded me on both sides as they wound their way around the square and into the enormous church. The singing reverberated through the square for a short time after they entered, giving the place a very eerie and very religious atmosphere. A voice then came over the loudspeaker welcoming the English-speaking visitors and briefly explaining the procession before cutting out and leaving me bewildered and incredulous after witnessing such an affair so unexpectedly.

The rest of my day was passed in the main park in Venice, which wasn’t too expansive, but it was much more residential, peaceful, and quiet. Not only that, but I had to walk along the southern edge of Venice from San Marco square to get there, and it was a beautiful walk. By this time I had bought sunscreen (aren’t you proud mom?) and I was very grateful for it. I found the park, and found a bench to settle down in, updating my journal with all that I had seen and done since my last entry, and then taking out my letter pad and writing for a number of hours. It was incredibly relaxing and lovely, just sitting there in the weather that was at a perfect temperature to sit there all day long. Contentment washed over me as I wrote and watched people talking, walking, and playing in the park. It was really an excellent way to spend my afternoon. That night I got another long sleep and boarded the train the next morning to head down to Roma.

The train down was much better than my previous one, and I sat in a set of four chairs in a car without any compartments, and I was able to enjoy the incredible view the whole way, as well as enjoy conversation with fellow passengers. As it would turn out, two of the people I was sitting with were also studying at the University of Edinburgh for the semester! I talked to them for a good while about their travels, studies, and homes back in the states before the older Australian couple across the aisle joined in our conversation. I was quite glad that they did, for they were fascinating people. They were just wrapping up four months of straight travel, which they had spent with a small group of other couples, starting and spending most of their time throughout South America. They had then taken an enormous cruise ship from Brazil to Venice (how long it took I cannot remember, but many days). They had spent some time in Venice and were now heading to Rome to endure over 25 hours of travel to get back to Sydney. They gave some good life advice, and took a parental role as we neared Rome to warn us of the dangers of pickpockets. I took it very much to heart and wasn’t stolen from once. It was a very enjoyable and entertaining train ride.

That’s all for this one. I have uploaded all of my pictures from Vienna and Rome, which are viewable at my Google Public Gallery. I do not have my Venice pictures besides the few posted here, because I had to leave them on my friend’s computer due to camera memory space, so it may be a while before I can post those. Thanks for reading!

A Spring Journey - Vienna

Hello hello everyone! First of all, I must apologize for how terribly long it has been since I last posted. Well over a month, but I do have good reason (kind of). First, after my last post, I was finishing my classes at the University of Edinburgh, and writing several essays and enjoying my fair share of stress. Then I left to travel for two weeks straight, visiting three cities in two countries. My first stop was Vienna, where I arrived on Tuesday, March 31st, and stayed until Friday, April 3rd. After that was a third week staying at a friend’s flat (dorms were being rented out all break long) and ended by a weekend in the Highlands of Scotland. I’ll tell you about each one individually, so as to do them the best justice I can.

Upon arriving in Vienna, I noticed that my four years of German in high school, which I had thought something of a waste due to my lack of intention to ever visit Germany (the thought of other German-speaking countries had never occurred to me), came rushing back to me. I was able to read billboards whilst on the bus to the main train station, which was really only possible due to their appeal to our very basic desires, and use of simple words to do so. I arrived in the station and was greeted by my friend Michael Haviland (henceforth Havi), who is studying there this semester, and goes to Connecticut College as well. He led me through the Viennese U-Bahn, and I gladly followed to my first Viennese grocery store and then chocolate shop, to the district where he lived. I must note here that I’ve found the public transportation system in Vienna to be one of the best in the world, and as that is usually one of my standards to judge a place, I took an immediate liking. We got back to Havi’s rather nice flat, and he quickly cooked up a number with pasta, onions, and bread, which I devoured it happily.

That night, we went out to a kind of dive bar, and after infuriating Havi by ordering a feminine cocktail, I ordered an ale to make him happy once more. I didn’t stay long though, due to my travel exhaustion, and so I grabbed Havi’s keys and headed back to his flat. Public transit brought me safely back, and I quickly found Havi’s building, only to enter it in pitch darkness. Not having much experience with apartment buildings and being rather tired, I thought ‘Oh no. It’s dark.’ That was actually the extent of my thoughts. In an old Austrian building, needing to travel to the top floor in the pitch black, I was terrified. Cell phone? Check. However, a little bout of white light can sometimes just add to the fright. I scampered quickly up the three flights of stairs, tripping a few times, and arriving at the top to fumble with the keys, and reach to the walls in desperation... only to find the switch for the temporary light for the entire stairwell. Which was also at the bottom of the stairs. A good start.

My first full day in Vienna was also the first day of April, and so after saying ‘rabbit, rabbit’ (possibly the only superstition I hold), I went out into the world, just wandering where my feet took me as Havi attended his classes. I saw flutists in one of the numerous parks, and I started to like the city more. I saw a plaque in the sidewalk for Bach... Brahms... many others, and I liked it even more. I met up with Havi at the NaschtMarkt and very much enjoyed the sights, smells, and sounds of a well-established street market. Huge loafs of bread for €1, and cheese-filled cherry tomatoes soon filled our hands as we quickly found another of Vienna’s many beautiful parks, and sat to eat happily. Havi then gave me a tour of the First District, and I could do nothing more than marvel at the spectacular nature of Viennese architecture. After wandering around wide-eyed for quite some time, we visited the Rathaus - the Viennese Parliament. We took a €2 tour on the advice of a very friendly Austrian man, but it was led by an Austrian woman who translated the tour into English as much as she pleased, which wasn’t much - Havi and I could tell from the amount of German we knew. But it was fascinating to see the country’s place of political deliberation.

Wednesday I decided to devote to finding the Botanic Gardens of Vienna. While I enjoy monuments, soaring arches, and statues of a country, my love shall always lie in the green life of gardens and forests, and that quickly became what I looked for in the places I visited. You can learn much about a place from how it interacts with nature, and with 50% of Vienna’s cityscape being devoted to parkland, it proved so much to love. So I ventured to that ‘Botanische’ green part of the map, and I discovered much more. As it turns out, the Botanic Gardens belong to the University of Vienna, and they are located in the grounds of a palace (which Austria loves to have, along with cathedrals), which had its own large expanse of carefully manicured grounds sweeping out from it. I shed my jacket and sweatshirt in the beautiful spring day, and soon noticed two things: one, this is my first time in continental Europe, and two, I am burning slightly. Wow. Not to be disconcerted, I found my way to the gardens, and traversed them happily and quietly, reflecting on what it was like to be in a foreign country, and how comforting universal things can be. People enjoying parks. Pedestrian crosswalks. The joy that a new Spring brings to people. Benches. And, of course, the desire for comfort.

Had lunch at an Easter Market outside of Schönbrunn Palace (that’s the main one, I think), and then a happy discovery and exploration of the VAST grounds that stretched out behind it, which eventually blend into forest, which have a Tiergarten (a zoo) tucked into it. Oh Vienna. After exploring for quite some time, I received a summons from Havi to the StatOpern to get in line for standing room tickets for the opera taking place that night. I quickly went, and marveled at the concept of it. A line had formed for the StehPlatz hours before the show, with the veterans and their collapsable chairs at the front, followed by a variety of people, from students to elderly couples. Havi and I got our €4 tickets, reserved our place in the standing room area with our belts (‘No coats!’ the condescending man had said), and hurried home to change into nicer clothes (‘I refuse to go to the Viennese opera in commoner’s clothes’ - those may have been my words) and get some food. It was a classic collegiate moment, really. Havi got a nice shirt from my things as I grabbed food at a grocery store, and we both hurriedly changed and ate a bag of grapes, a loaf of bread, and a litre of juice in the span of time it took for the U-Bahn to take us to the opera. We arrived luckily just in time, and we settled (stood) in our spots, eager for the opera. It was Arabella, an opera full of melodrama, identity confusion, and secrets. Usual elements of an opera? Check. I was really enjoying it, as was Havi, but he had a German exam the next day, so he ducked out during intermission, along with about half of the standing room crowd. I stuck around to wait for the second half and a woman came unexpectedly up to me and started speaking in German. This happened quite a bit, and I always felt bad asking people to speak in English (my German is quite limited), but she did so happily, and I quickly learned that she was offering me her seat. Surprised and grateful, I asked where it was, looking down towards the audience seating as she pointed it out, ‘...by those old women talking’ (not too helpful in an opera house). ‘Where? To the right there?’ Realizing where I was searching, she says ‘No, in the balcony there, I’ll show you’. What?! Astonished, I followed, and was directed up some stairs into a hall. I thanked her profusely, and as she left, I made my way into Box 7. There was a door to enter, and a small room with a place to hang coats and make sure you are prepared in the small mirror (you know, so you don’t have to get ready with the commoners - glad I insisted on changing), and two elderly Austrian women chatting with each other. Oh. ‘Hello. Your seat is there’ one said, encouragingly pointing to the high chair in the back of the balcony. My height made it a great place to sit and admire the view and the other balconies (...is that one of the purposes? High-class interaction? I like it) and settled in as the second half began, and the other members of the balcony hurried in. It was much longer, and I was very happy to be sitting there, especially since I was in a Viennese Opera, and sitting in a balcony. One of my favorite parts was saying goodbye to those hospitable Austrians, in the mixed language that comes about when one party knows very little English and the other knows very little German. The result? A mix of me speaking in German and them speaking in English. Hearing an American-accented ‘Sehr gut. Danke. Gute nacht!’ and a Austrian-accented ‘You liked it? Good. Good night!’ exchanged made me smile for a long while.

The view from the standing room.

The next day I spent exploring more of the Schönbrunn Palace grounds, then quickly packing, then heading to a big dinner with Havi’s friends, and then heading over to the train station for my first overnight European train, from Vienna to Venice. Stay tuned for more - and sorry for the length on this one. Congratulations on getting this far! My best to you all.

Rain, Lochs, and Yon Bonnie Banks

This past weekend, IFSA-Butler took all of its Scottish programs (Edinburgh, St. Andrews, Glasgow, and Stirling) to a weekend-long excursion in Loch Lomond. Or rather, at Loch Lomond - being in it would have been quite wet. As it turned out, however, it rained for the whole weekend, so it was quite wet all the same. While I only got one glimpse of the sun, I really didn’t mind the rain too much. Scotland is a good country for the rain, and it proves to be very lovely during such. It’s the element of the country, in a sense.

We left on Friday afternoon from Edinburgh on our coach buses, and arrived at a castle overlooking Loch Lomond, which was where we would be staying. Naturally. The place is actually a youth hostel, and it has a fascinating history. Way back when it was first built, it was used by Robert the Bruce (a famous Scottish king in the 12th and 13th centuries) as a lodge for his hunting grounds, which consisted of the modest thirteen acres surrounding it. It changed hands a few times after him, being owned by very wealthy people who put on additions and used it as a castle-mansion, up until around the 18th century. After a while of lack of use (I believe, not sure who owned it until this time), it was used in WWII by a unit of the United States Anti-Aircraft Division as their headquarters in the region. They even converted some of the upper floors into barracks. It was this same unit that pioneered the idea to turn it into a youth hostel, and the surrounding thirteen acres were sold off to help with this conversion. It now stands today as a lovely abode, and this past weekend it stood full of IFSA-Butler students, who had taken complete control of the place, so it was occupied by Americans once more. How fateful.

After a delicious dinner at a local restaurant, we called it an early night for the next morning’s early wake-up call. When was it? 7AM. Which is early. We are college students, after all. Bleary-eyed, we ate a quick breakfast and headed out to Benmore Activity Center, for some adventures in the countryside. I signed up for the group which was doing high ropes and kayaking, and we ventured out in the rain to do just that. You can’t cancel activities just because of something silly like the rain, even if one of those activities is walking on logs 40 feet in the air. And high ropes was first, which I was very excited about. High ropes courses have always been an incredibly enjoyable part of my life, and I try to take every opportunity to strap myself into cables and do dangerous things at high heights. Not sure why, really - but that’s besides the point. In my group was a good friend of mine, Yannick, who is about my height, so we continuously teamed up to do several activities in the high and low ropes course, which was a great deal of fun. However, our similar (and superior) characteristic translated into every activity we did being made as hard as possible by our guides. For instance, when we climbed up a tall, swaying pole with a board on the top hardly big enough for both of us, the trapeze pole that was hanging in the air for us to jump and grab on to was moved as far away as possible. We failed, actually, on that one, but succeeded on every other thing we did. One of these was climbing up another pole with a board on top hardly bigger than the other one but with four of us, Yannick and I and two girls half our height. We then did this, which worked out well and looked quite cool:

The afternoon brought about kayaking, which we did on Loch Eck, which means ‘Lake Whitehorse’. The shared height factor of Yannick and I actually continued to prove treacherous to our well-being, as nearly all of the kayaks were just barely too short for us. But we managed just fine as we ventured out into the Loch and the rain. Luckily, we were provided with a great deal of waterproofs to keep us relatively dry because kayaking in the rain has nothing dry about it. I sang a bit of a shanty to myself whilst kayaking headlong into the wind, and it was impressively effective in helping me to speed through the water, as it was initially intended to. After kayaking up the loch, stopping for hot chocolate, and then kayaking back down, I also sang the ‘Loch Lomond’ song (“By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes, where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond” - no sun shining bright, but the banks and braes were still there). This was an important sort of pilgrimage thing for me to do, and I had been looking forward to it ever since I found out that IFSA-Butler was hosting a weekend trip in Loch Lomond, which had been coincidentally at the same time as I was preparing that song for a recital at Conn. So sing it I did, and I was very happy to do so.

That night brought dinner at a very nice restaurant, where I bought my first cocktail since I’ve been here. For those of you familiar with my bar-tending habits, it may come as a bit of a surprise that I held out this long for one, and I would agree. However, most places in Scotland are more suitable for things like pints than cocktails. It was quite enjoyable indeed, but it made me miss the days when I could make one whenever, and for not £4.50. The night was topped off with some hilarious games played with my friends, and then sleep, which was eagerly sought despite our later, more reasonable wake-up time (8AM). After waking at that time, we ate, packed, took some final pictures, and made our way to the buses for a quick trip to the Trossachs National Park. There we listened to a talk on conservation in the park’s headquarters. I actually found this talk intriguing, because it outlined the National Park system in Scotland, which differs in many essential ways from our own in the states. One of the biggest differences is that they have rural development as one of their goals, nourishing and working with the communities that exist within the park. With my concept of ‘wilderness areas’ left untouched by any type of development, I was fascinated. The speaker also explained the numerous problems the parks face (e.g. invasive species, tourists...) and even the difference between a ‘lake’ and a ‘loch’. There isn’t one. Though, oddly and humorously enough, there is one lake in Scotland. That is, one lake called a lake. All others are called lochs. Quite strange.

We finished our weekend with a trip to the Scottish Wool Centre, where we watched a sheepdog demonstration. The sheepdogs were beautiful, talented, and energetic, and it only served to make me miss my own herding dog back in Minnesota. Here’s a picture of my favorite demonstration sheepdog in action, and then my own sheep dog, in a slightly different climate, also in action.

Where the Sun Shines on the Cities of Saints

Last Saturday, three of my friends and I took a day trip to St. Andrews, which turned out to be a most excellent choice. We awoke bright and early and ran to the grocery store, where I got baguettes, ciabatta rolls, and juice (the best breakfast you could ask for) and then ran to the bus station. We hopped on an 8:40am bus and had a fun filled ride passing by bridges, country, and the sea. I guess you had to be there. Maybe this picture helps:


So we arrived in St. Andrews with a little repertoire of things to do, but got very quickly lost. We walked through an area for a brief time where students reclined on benches wearing their quintessential preppy St. Andrews clothes, right outside one of the student shops (which had a sale - school scarf for only £30!). But those were only a handful of students, so I didn’t judge the town too much. After stopping and asking a student who looked a tad more welcoming, we got excellent directions to the shore where the castle and cathedral both lay. Upon reaching said shore, however, we quickly ran down to the nearest beach in our excitement to see such a thing in Scotland. Also, I should note that when I thought of St. Andrews, I thought of golf. Not the ocean. I was happily proved very wrong indeed, and we spent the first part of our morning walking the tiny beach we had found, which the St. Andrews castle happened to overlook.

Thus, the castle was the place we went to next, and what a castle it was! Unlike the castles of Stirling or Edinburgh, a great deal of this castle was in ruins, and it was also a bit smaller than those two. Yet little did I know how many hidden facets and adventures it held! We first went through the historical exhibition that was in the visitor centre, which was very overwhelming, as it was full of histories of conflict between kings, bishops, pagans, and so forth. Typical medieval Britain, really. But one of my favorite stories depicted there was about how people tried to attack the castle by building a tunnel (though they called it a mine) into the castle. Well, the castle-folk got wind of this, and began to build a ‘counter-mine’, which would intercept this one, and then they could... fight in the mine instead of the castle. The pictures were quite gruesome, actually, and I quickly decided that I would not want anything to do with fighting in a mine (or digging one for that matter, since the pictures portrayed the fights happening while people were mining - they didn’t fare well). Good. There’s a life decision made. We left the exhibition and started exploring the castle, where we found many ‘false starts’ for the counter-mine. This wasn’t fully explained, so I guess they started to dig, and then decided ‘Woops, no. Let’s dig over there instead.’ and proceeded to make several very large holes in the ground. If I had been a groundskeeper then, I would not have been pleased. Anyway, though, then we found this:


And we were SO excited. We explored them hurriedly and happily. There were some people already in the tunnels who didn’t share our excitement as much, and it was a bit too exciting for our groceries as well, which took a few tumbles through the mines (safely retrieved though).

After that, since we had lost a bit of our energy, we explored other parts of the castle, and spent a great deal of time just staring out to the sea, which was a more stunning blue than I have seen in some while. We were subdued by it, and the peacefulness of the entire situation could have lasted a lifetime.

Taylor, Yannick, and Blake in one of the scenes that gave this post its name.


After quite reluctantly taking ourselves from that eternal scene, we headed back towards the city area, on our way to the cathedral. IFSA-Butler actually had given us all a travel newsletter a week before, and in it was a page on St. Andrews which I found (luckily) the day before. It suggested a famous doughnut store called Fisher & Donaldson’s which I stopped at to get a (also suggested) fudge doughnut. Now, when I think fudge, I think chocolate, which is (I think) understandable, but nonetheless incorrect. This was a doughnut with a creme colored frosting, and a white cream filling, both fudge, but not chocolate fudge. It was not what I expected at all, but I did enjoy it. For a country that doesn’t have many doughnuts (i.e. as America does), I was surprised, and a bit overwhelmed. But in a good way.

We then trod over to the cathedral after picking up some excellent lunch at a French café (I think I saw a French flag... not too sure), and we found it to be not exactly as expected. It was an old ruined cathedral, and inside of the ruined walls, surrounding the spires, were countless headstones. Really creative ones too at times (see the album for some examples - link at bottom of post), but almost too many for me to envision the area as a working cathedral. I’m not sure if the graves came first and the cathedral was just much smaller than it seems or what the deal was - the organization of it all was a bit confusing. Anyway, we got a chance to climb up the only stable standing tower (with tickets for two of us, the other two - Taylor and I - are members, so we actually got escorted up). It was a stunning view from the top, and from there we saw many exciting things, including a pier, which is exactly where we headed next. That was an even more subduing and peaceful experience, with beauty I cannot easily describe.

We had to tear ourselves reluctantly away from there as well, after which we headed back to the city to an IFSA-Butler suggested Ice Cream shop, which had over 150 flavors, including Irn-Bru! I’m not sure if I’ve told you about Irn-Bru (pronounced Iron-Brew), but it is a Scottish soft drink that surpasses many major ones in sugar content (33% of daily intake, I believe) and tastes like liquid, sugary bubblegum. Overwhelming. But in a bad way. It does have 10% of your daily intake of Iron though! Anyway, none of us got that type of ice cream, for good reason. I feel as though it was more of a novelty anyway. Afterwards, we dragged ourselves back to the bus station and had a weary, bleary-eyed ride home. Except it was MUCH longer, as it wasn’t the express bus we had taken that morning, but instead one that traversed the countryside through many seaside villages, which I really enjoyed - when I could keep awake for it. Here’s a good one to close with, a picture I took on that ride home, embodying my love for this country:

p.s. I’ve posted three albums to my Google public photo gallery, all viewable at: http://picasaweb.google.com/riordan.frost

The Gardens and the Seat of a King

Over the past week or so, I have been doing several smaller, yet still exciting things, like going to the Royal Botanic Gardens of Edinburgh and taking numerous wondrous trips to Holyrood.

To begin, my friends Blake and Alena and I all decided to visit the Botanic Gardens on Valentine’s Day (though not because of the day) and we walked there, as we are oft fond to do in Edinburgh - I have not yet taken a local bus here, as it is a very manageable city. However, we took a rather unique route, for reasons too complex and silly to explain, and we ended up walking quite a bit, somewhat lost, through Leith. Leith is basically Edinburgh’s port city - though I am uncertain of its status as a city and whether or not it is separate from Edinburgh - and it is much more working class, which was interesting to see. After quite a bit of meandering and searching, we found our way, but not before finding a magical paradise of a grocery store.

Now, as all of my friends live in flats, cooking is quite a happy occurrence, but since most of us live in the heart of the city, there are only small grocery stores available, which are understandably limited in their selection. So when we stumbled across a full-sized grocery store in Leith we were very excited. We stopped and found wonders. Alena found vanilla extract, which the entire city has seemed to lack before, and together we all excitedly laid our eyes on a 27 pack of Penguins. Now, Penguins are a phenomenon little surpassed by anything else, and I shall try my best to convey my love for them to you. A Penguin is in actual fact a chocolate biscuit, with a milk chocolate filling. It’s a small rectangular chocolate bar, basically. Now, you can just eat it as is, but you can do that with any old candy bar, like a Twix or something. An inconceivably better alternative is to bite two diagonally opposing corners and turn to your freshly made cup of Earl Grey (which you should always have at hand - this is Britain, after all) and place one end into the tea, and the other in your mouth. You then suck the hot tea through the biscuit, and after a couple of seconds, remove the biscuit which has been melted by the tea (especially the chocolate filling), and you then eat it. Or rather, you then experience the melted delicious chocolate sensation. I shall say no more but that it is the closest to doing and being addicted to any substance I have ever been.


But I digress. We arrived at the gardens, triumphant and weary, as shown in the picture above. We walked through, and it blew me away nearly as much as Penguins do. The expanses of trees, lakes, and small rugged hills lining the lovely paths which winded through them and around to the greenhouses filled with exotic and bizarre plants was all quite enough to take my breath away. Even with the cloudy skies and the wintry state of the trees and gardens, it was beautiful. And so quietly peaceful. We wandered, had a little picnic, and wandered some more. My feet didn’t feel so heavy in such a place. I especially loved this greenhouse, which was full of cacti:

We greatly enjoyed ourselves, and then soon afterwards we went back to Alena’s flat to prepare a cake for a birthday party of some reckoning that night.

Going back in time now, the previous Wednesday, Alena and I ventured up to the Seat of the King on Holyrood (Arthur’s Seat) and were, to put it simply, awestruck. Despite the fact that I have been to Holyrood many a time, this was my first time to the very summit. There was still some snow and ice present, and the sun reflected off of it brilliantly. Every picture I took seemed less and less real. And after surveying the view from the top, Alena and I sat on top of another crag, so peacefully content as the wind played and danced over the mountain for what seemed an endless moment. Here are some pictures from that to close this account: