Kristine Comes to Visit; Kelso Horse Racing; Essay Writing, and Some General Thoughts on Being in Scotland

I haven't really updated in a loooong time....There's almost in point in summarising the past couple of weeks. So long story short, Kristine, one of my best friends and roommates from back home, came to visit me for six days and we basically had a blast. That's a pretty cliche way to put it...but it's true. I had forgotten how much fun the two of us can have together. We went up to the Edinburgh Castle; I took her to the Elephant House, where JK Rowling wrote the first two HP books; the Scottish Museum, which is free, and where my friend Calum works (Kristine knocked over a child, it was hilarious); and we did some serious shopping--mostly vintage shopping. Oh, and we went to a poetry reading that was raising money for Haiti. It was three hours long! I was a little exhausted, aka ready to eat some food by the end of it--and Kristine was about ready to eat her hand off from boredom. The poet's were mostly Scottish, there was one at least that was Irish, some Welsh, and some English. After the poetry reading we went to the Library Bar on campus for dinner with my friends Calum and Andre.

Hmm...let's see...i wrote three essays for today. So i spent a little too much time in the library....oh, and I went to Kelso!

Here is a brief summary, or an email that I sent to some friends/family:

"today, i realized why usc is THE greatest university in the world. now, for all you bruins--give me a minute here to explain.

today usc paid for me and about 15 other students to go down to kelso today. kelso is a smallish-city on the boarders between england and scotland, so it felt a bit more like england, as opposed to 'scottishness.' our lunch was paid for (fish n chips and ice cream for me)...we were also supplied with wine. and then the director of our trip gave us all ten pounds and said, "may the force be with you and go bet." im sorry but i think that i need to repeat this. USC GAVE US MONEY TO GO BET ON HORSES. do you have any idea how satisfactory it felt to waste that money? dad and mom, aren't you pleased to hear what your money is going towards? they gave us the money in order to 'enhance our cultural experience.'

on a cultural note, it was a very fascinating day. first off, i realized that myself and my fellow americans stuck out like thorns. the majority of people in attendance were scottish, but im assuming there were some english people in attendance, simply because we were so close to the border (they refer to this area of the uk as the 'boarder lands'). many of the people were older, middle class to upper middle class. they wore tweed EVERYTHING. i honestly dont know if i can explain it....it felt almost as if i was in the 1940s or something. the men wore tweed jackets with matching tweed pants, with tweed hats and wellington boots. and many of them waltzed around with canes and hunting dogs and pipes. and the women wore those funny hats that look like birds. and there was a plethora of burberry.

in order to bet, you say '2 pounds on 2 (or any other number) to win/place." 2 pounds was the minimum bet, so i stuck to that. then the second number is the number of the horse, and then you either say 'to win,' meaning youre betting that your horse will win, or 'to place,' meaning that your horse will come 1-3 or 1-4, depending on how many other horses are racing. i won one race! it was very exciting. also, if you dont use this lingo, the people get very agitated and annoyed.

before the race the horses parade around a paddock, so that you can look at the horse before betting on him/her. this was quite the spectacle--everyone gathers round and expertly studies the horses. sadly, even after 6 years of riding under my belt, i really had no idea how to 'choose,' the right horse. THOUGH, apart from one race, my horse always came in at least second!

the races in and of themselves are actually quite exciting. you stand in the bleachers (unless youre a member, then you have special bleachers with better views), and as the horses close on the finish line, people actually get quite excited--they start calling out their horses name, or at least thats what i did. several times the jockie would fall off their horse, but the horse would keep running! that was a little scary, simply because there was a chance that the jockie could be seriously injured by another horse.

the people there are also very into drinking. usually at sporting events in the states, they limit how much you can drink, or there is a certain point in the game where you can no longer buy alcohol. not so here. people were boozing it up the entire day and walking around with their alcohol.

all in all, a very interesting day. people here are really very, very class conscious. the older people at the event very much into propriety, and all that. and its clear that the way one dresses defines their class. although this is true in the states, it is truer here to a much higher degree. people here literally deck themselves out in tweed, wellies, etc, in order to purport a certain image of themselves. ive started noticing it with the students at my uni as well--though not to such a heightened degree. the students here are much more artsy, and are far more concerned about how tight their pants are or if their hair falls to a certain angle, as opposed to worrying about tweed and all that nonsense.

but they do bring it up occasionally, and when they do, i just keep my lips sealed because i dont really want to say the wrong thing. half of the time it seems like they want to express how wealthy they are; the other half of the time they want to downplay their class, almost saying theyre not of the middle class (when i know full well they are)."



I'm really enjoying my time here in Scotland, and it's sad that I know it's going to end...in merely a couple of months. I've been toying with the idea of returning here for graduate school and pursuing a masters in English Literature. At times, though, it can be lonely. I mean, being an American, sometimes you can't help but stick out. Many of my friends here are American, but I have many who are Scottish or English as well. Since I've started to get to know some of the British students, and actually become their friends, I feel like the 'divide' between us is shrinking. But there are moments where I can't help but feel like the odd man out, like I'm unaware of social norms, etc. Sometimes I'm worried that I've stuck my foot in my mouth, or that I've violated some unspoken code. Sometimes I feel stupid, like the people here are far better educated than myself.

The other night I went to a pub quiz with the lit society. I was shocked at how much more knowledge they have on writers, novels, poems, etc. And I thought that I knew a lot...

At one point in the evening I was standing with my friends Calum, Andre, and a girl from Glasgow. They were talking about Scottish literature, and I had nothing to say. I stood there for a while, and the large amount of cider (coupled with it being after 2 am and me being exhausted), I suddenly felt very, very far from home. I felt foolish, stupid for having noting to contribute. I know nothing about Scottish lit, or, ok, I know a littttle bit, but not enough to sustain an actual intelligent conversation. I stared away from the group for a while, and I won't deny, I felt a bit miserable/lonely. It wasn't until Calum surreptitiously tapped my leg with his foot and smiled at me that I felt like smiling at all. I felt better, and I pulled myself together, delving into a conversation regarding the relationship of romantics to poetry to emotion, blah blah.

And that's all I have to say now. Ta ta.

The Netherlands

I feel a bit like I'm losing control again, but maybe that's due to my lack of sleep.

Friday morning I woke up at 6:30 am, threw some clothes on, grabbed my knapsack, and headed out of the door into the slowly-brightening day. After being whacked in the face with water by a man cleaning a storefront, I found myself half-asleepedly walking down fleshmarket close towards a bus that would take me to a bus. And that bus took me to the airport. And that plane took me to Amsterdam. I arrived in the airport, and had several men leer at me. I wandered through a bookstore, enjoying the fact that the books bore titles in a foreign language. I met up with my friend, Jacob, who is Dutch (we met 18 months ago on a summer study abroad program at Cambridge University). We said hello, and then boarded a train that took us into the city centre. We got lunch; I downed a few Belgian beers, and then we wandered through the city. I got my boot caught in the tram railing--and came just shy of being hit by a car. Later we wandered over to the main museum square, where Jacob convinced me to strap some ice skates onto my feet. They were orange and ugly, but nonetheless I managed to stand vertical.

In my opinion, I did a pretty good job. I think that the last time that I ever ice skated was when I was 8--maybe 7. I figured it out eventually; I liked going slowly though, so that I wouldn't fall. And yet it was very thrilling to rush along the ice. We then got dinner, and after dinner we wandered briefly through the red light district. Most of the men who inhabited that area of the city were rather brusque, grotesque, etc. and I felt squeamish by their very premise alone. I saw a man walk away from a whore towards his friend smiling and laughing and joking. I saw many large groups of men all congregated together, wandering down the alleyways and lewdly catcalling the girls.

Saturday evening we took a train to The Hague. Jacob showed me the Parliament, some other old buildings, a museum, the place where the peace talks/courts take place, an old prison, the most posh hotel in the Netherlands, and the tackiest square in all of the country. We then wandered down a boardwalk of sorts along the coast; he took me onto the pier, and we walked all the way to the edge. We climbed the stairs and at the top of the decks I could look away from the city towards Scotland. I was shocked how much I actually missed the country. I felt incredibly lonely in that moment. It was perfectly silent and still--behind me, I could hear the waves crashing against the earth; ahead of me the water lapped against itself and made little fluttering-like noises...like being in a bathtub, or something. I suddenly missed my friends and family, but I knew that they were very far away. I felt homeless, like a wanderer who didnt possess a place of origin. I felt confused; I felt lost. I felt inexplicable. Jacob said at one point that as a 'literary' student, shouldn't I be good at putting my emotions into words?

I didn't want to talk as we walked back down the pier and onto the sand. He silently led me up a path amongst the sand dunes to an old Nazi outpost--it was a small, insignificant boarded up tower with graffitti and little windows. I hated it; I didn't want to stay long in that space, so I clambered onto a wall and looked away, towards the ocean. I felt free, boundary-less. I fancied what it would be like if I never fell in love with someone; if I never got married nor had children. Would I be anchorless? Could I be a wanderer, always picking up my bags and moving on before I have the chance to let any one place really begin to feel like home?

Later we went to Utrecht, where I met Jacob's older brother, Thomas. We went to a party at the university. It was an American-themed party..and strangely, I wasn't homesick in the least. I'm slowly growing to detest the idea of moving back to the states. We left the party after 6am though, and slept in the train station until 7:30 am, when the train finally came. I slept on the train, and a bit more back at Jacob's place..and then I had to get back onto a train that would take me to the airport. And now I'm back again.

There and back again, really. I am utterly exhausted...in the past 35 hours I've slept maybe two hours. I feel exhausted, stretched out, and lost. Lost is the best word that I can think of to describe how I feel. Maybe it's because I slowly feel like I'm losing my grip, my control on my emotions.

Can love set you free, or can it just enchain you?

Random thoughts that have absolutely nothing to do about Scotland..

It has suddenly come to my attention that over the past few years I have lost a lot of myself. I have forgotten those things that one ought to possess, those passions that inspire us to keep breathing and taking one step forwards. I used to really enjoy studying karate and kung fu, and I used to horseback ride every week. Alas, after one too many scary incidents, I gave up horseback riding, and have not been back in a saddle in over two and a half years. I have allowed my anxiety to get the better of me, and because of it I have given up one of the most passionate activities that I have ever participated in wholeheartedly.

I am thankful at least that I have never given up writing (oh and reading). And so, i am going to continue writing, but I haven't really written any poetry in many weeks...so that is step number one...yes, to recommence writing poetry on a weekly (then perhaps daily) basis. I think that I've got the reading thing down pat, seeing as I read several novels and plays a week for class :) Oh! And I'd like to finally get around to writing some fiction, or something that leans towards the direction of that fearful word, The Novel. Yes, a novel. I've been wanting to be a novelist for as long as I can remember, and now that I'm 21..well, I don't see why I should keep putting it off anymore!

Another passion I have relates to movies and television...but of course I watch many movies and shows on a regular basis, so there that passion is usually fulfilled. Check.

The big one that comes to mind is horseback riding. I have allowed my anxiety to take ahold of too many aspects of my life. But I will no longer be a slave to my fears and disorders anymore! I am planning on going on a pony trail ride with a few other girls here whilst I am in Edinburgh. This will be the first step to regaining own of my favourite passions and hobbies. I don't know when I'll be able to continue riding again on a daily basis, but I know that If I trust in the gods above, things will work out like they're supposed to. I must merely take one step at a time, and my heart tells me to just simply go on a simple trail ride on a pony that is not much bigger than me, and then see what happens next...

Concerning the martial arts, I'm not sure whether or not I want to pick up where I left off. I enjoyed knowing how to defend myself, that is certain. It gives a woman a certain sense of security when she is walking alone at night to know that she might be able to perhaps ward off a potential attack(er). But I would not return to my old 'studio,' nor do I think I would continue with the same form. A fresh start? Perhaps USC has a club I could join?

Ah, I forgot another one...transcendental meditation. Last summer I learned how to meditate, and I am supposed to meditate twice a day for twenty minutes. I honestly cannot recall the last time that I meditated for even 5 minutes. I ought to start meditating at least once a day again; it will certainly help dissipate any lingering anxiety. Yes, this certainly shall be the next hobby that I pick up again. And it will be simpler to begin meditating on a daily basis than it will be to start riding again (as well as cheaper!).

The next thing on my list is..amusingly so...cooking. I would like to learn how to cook. I've started paying attention more to what my flatmates make, and maybe I'll gain some more courage to start cooking...even if it's as simple as making pasta or even assembling a salad. I don't really know why I become so fearful whenever I step into a kitchen. What...the fridge is going to attack? (Yes, if you've ever seen a certain movie).


Well, its 2am and I really ought to attempt to get some sleep. I've been fighting insomnia ever since I got here, over four weeks ago. Yikes, has it really been that long? Perhaps over the next few days I'll come up with some more goals!

Updates

It's been a while since last I posted anything...I got busy with school work, oh, and I caught a cold. I'm glad that it's just a cold because for the past week I kept waking up with headaches and felt nauseous; and I lacked any appetite. I also woke up a few mornings with vertigo, which is exactly what happened to me in the weeks preceding mono. I'm glad that I was only overreacting.

As a consequence, I've been spending a lot of time lying in bed and catching up on my homework--I need to finish reading Pamela by Samuel Richardson by monday, write a paper on James Thomson, read Hamlet, oh, and attempt to read Jude the Obscure by Thomas Hardy. Piece. Of. Cake.

I went to an improv comedy show last night. Long story short, the improv here is exactly like the improv back home, minus the difference of accents. Of course, all of the 'players' were British. I didn't catch several of the jokes because their accents were too thick, but I still found the night overall rather enjoyable. Afterwards I headed over with my friends to Rush, a pub that is in my flat complex. I did a lot of people watching--i find it fascinating to watch how men and women interact here. According to my deductions, most of the men here are just as masculine and puffed-up-rooster-esque as they are back in the states. A lot of the girls here wear dresses without tights; I have absolutely no idea how they don't freeze when they step outside. It has also come to my attention that many people here seem 'shy,' or at least, according to how I define the term. I mean, I suppose most people in most cultures aren't going to go up to people that they don't know, but still...most groups of people tended to stay within their respective groups, and only talked to their friends. Although this is perfectly normal, I feel like in the states people are a little more apt to meet new people...or perhaps I am merely reflecting my own interactions with people.


Hmm.

I went out with the Literary Society last Wednesday night. We saw 'The Road,' based on Cormac McCarthy's same-titled novel about a post-apocalyptic world. Afterwards we walked through the falling snow to a pub. Although I couldn't drink, I still enjoyed sitting and listening to the Brits talk. I enjoy listening to their accents; they really flow through my ears with more musicality than the American-accents I am more acquainted with. The group of people that I was with attempted to explain how the British government works, but alack! some of their accents were too thick for me to fully catch each and every word that spilled out of their mouth! (I made my friend Chris from USC explain it to me today, so no worries). I was surprised to find that the Brits knew more about American politics than me. I was almost embarrassed about this, actually, but then I realized that I don't ever really pay attention to politics...

At first the group of people seemed a little distant, but as time wore on, they warmed up to me a bit, and I felt more relaxed in tongue--the words fell out of my mouth with more fluidity than per usual; especially because I can be taken with shyness when in a group of strangers. But my degree of shyness has greatly decreased since being abroad, and this is mostly due to the fact that I am constantly out of my comfort zone, and thusly forced to interact more with strangers.

Well, this is possibly the lamest post ever. Oh well.

My First Pub Crawl, St. Andrews, and Burn's Night

So much has happened these past few days.

Last Wednesday I met up with all of the kids from USC at an Indian restaurant. It gave me the opportunity to better acquaint myself with my fellow Trojans here in Edinburgh. Dinner was incredible; I especially enjoyed learning that they dont call it dessert here, they call it 'pudding.' So 'pudding' can really refer to ice cream, cake, pie, etc. After dinner we all went to see the musical, The Sound of Music. It was..well, it was alright. I assumed going into the musical that I had never seen the movie before, but I suppose that is wrong, seeing as I recognized practically every song and knew how it was going to end. After the play we all ventured over to a pub next door. I was quite depressed to sit at a table and not be able to drink, meanwhile everyone nursed a healthy pint of cider or beer.

Last Thursday night was quite exciting as well. I went on my first pub crawl! It was the literary society's pub crawl (a society is also like a club, but here in Edinburgh it appears that every club has been created for the mere purpose of bringing together like-minded individuals in order to drink alcohol. It's really quite fantastic), so i met a lot of English majors or literature-enthusiasts. I walked over with my friends Bri and Olenka. At the door we were given name tags that were inscribed with the names of a fictional character. The whole point was to meet your 'author.' My character was a certain Mr. Knightly from Jane Austen's 'Northanger Abbey,' if my memory doesn't fail me. Bri and Olenka's characters were also from the same novel, so we set out in search of Jane Austen (whom we learned was actually a guy). Oh, this all took place at a pub called Frankensteins. I decided to just be adventurous, so with lemonade in hand (note: lemonades in the UK are not like the one's back home. They're like Sprite, really) I wandered through the congregated people and met some Scottish and English individuals. I also met Jane Austen, who like I said was a boy named Chris. I also met several of his friends.

And then we set off in a mob of people for the next pub in the pub crawl--Dropkick Murphy's I think it was called. And again, I met more people. And then we went to Bannerman's. And then, just as Olenka and Bri were about to walk home, a group of English and Scottish guys who were in the Lit Society invited me to go to a club with them. On a whim I agreed to go with them, which was quite unlike me. Minutes later I found myself sitting at a rather posh booth in a club that was akin to what I can only assume is a vampire's haunt. The room with the booths was lined with stones (like a castle); the lights were red, and the booths were black..it was all very gothic and romantic. I was surrounded at the booth by the guys, who kept throwing back more and more alcohol. I was amazed at their gusto and capability to remain in control even whilst tossing shot back with more beer.

And then, they wanted to dance. There were at least five guys on the dance floor dancing with me. I couldn't stop laughing. The music was mostly English pop...like Kinks, Beatles, T. Rex, Pulp, Blur, etc. And the guys are very indie, some of them with shag haircuts, so if I squinted my eyes it almost felt like I was dancing at a club in the 60s. Some rather interesting things occurred on the dance floor, but nothing that is suitable to relate via a web blog.

Friday I went on a bus tour of the city. It was awesome.

On Saturday I went up to St Andrews with Olenka and our other friends, Jessie, Jackie, Nic and Alayna. For those of you who don't know, St Andrews is the home of golf--that's where it was founded and that's where you can play golf on the oldest course in the world. The town/city is also home to the oldest university in Scotland (founded in the 1400s!!). I think either Prince William or Prince Harry went to university there. By bus it took about an hour to an hour and a half to achieve the city, and the ride up was quite beautiful, especially because we could see the ocean at certain points of the journey!

First, we saw the remains of the cathedral and a giant cemetery. Then we wandered down a ways and found a walkway that led directly to the ocean. We wandered along a quay for a whiles, but at a certain point my moods dropped, due to the rain, and the wind blowing the seaspray directly into my face. The view was rather spectacular, though. The winds were churning the waves into a tumultuous monster that constantly crashed upon the distant seashore. And the sands in the distance that were touched by the waves glimmered feebly--there was no sunshine. We then wandered up to see the golf course, and after a brief respite at a restaurant that reminded me too much of America, we walked through one of the college's of the university and found ourselves at the ruins of the ancient castle. Much of the walls are missing, and the main ceiling is practically gone. Olenka and I wandered off from the others for a bit and had some moments where we bemoaned how shit the weather was. Rain is one thing; wind another. But rain and wind together? Shit. Absolute shit and bollocks. It was one of the coldest days yet (or so it seemed).

Here is a picture of the cemetery:


This is the quay that I walked down:


Here is the ocean from my vantage point:






I was able to climb up some stairs and get to the second story of the once-castle. From this vantage point I could see a bit of the coast, but the fogs and mists obscured my eyes from looking out any great distance. All of a sudden I realized that I was alone up there, that though I could hear the sound of my friends voices and laughter carried upon the wind, I was for all sakes and purposes very much alone up there. The wind beat sea spray relentlessly into my face, but I suddenly did not mind. My breath caught in my chest and I suddenly felt--free. That moment was bittersweet--so beautiful, yet so poignantly sad because I knew that the chances of me ever returning to this same spot were slim to none. And I knew that the moment would end so soon--I knew that at any moment my friends would call up, wondering where I was, beseeching me to return to the gift shop. And just like that, the moment would be gone. So i stood there, hands pressed into my coat pockets and eyes half-closed against the wind, and I felt very much alive. It was one of those moments that felt almost as if I was reliving a memory that I had simply forgot I possessed. It was a waking dream.

Here is the castle remains that I stood upon:



The next day, this being last Sunday, I attempted to do some much-needed reading for my classes (I read 'Twelfth Night,' several short stories by Aphra Behn (she's one of the first female writers to ever earn a living via her writing!), and George Eliot's novel, 'Silas Marner.') I also wandered over to the National Gallery with a large gaggle of people in order to see some art and feel cultured and what-not. Although it was a rather small museum, it still housed some well-known masterpieces. There were a few Da Vincis (one of my all-time favies), a few Van Goghs, a handful of Rembrandt's, some Stubb's, and I think even a Monet and many more by Titian. They had organized the museum via nationality--one wing was dedicated to Dutch painters; another room had impressionists--mostly French and Dutch--then there were the religious-crappy ones by the Dutch and British, etc. What I really liked about the museum was that the guards all wore plaid/tartan pants.

Yesterday was Burn's Day/Night. Robert Burns is one of the best-known Scottish writers, and he is perhaps one of the most-beloved by the Scottish people. Every January 25th the Scotch celebrate the bard/poet by essentially having a dinner of haggis, neeps and tatties--oh, and wearing kilts, playing bagpipes, and getting pissed drunk. Since I had joined the Lit Society, I decided to attend their Burn's Night Dinner at the Argyle Bar. I walked over to the pub with Kim, a fellow USC student and English major. We mixed and mingled, but I did not approach any of the guys I had met the previous Thursday at the pub crawl. Dinner was quite an interesting affair. We were alerted that dinner was to begin when one of the guys who was donned in a kilt began to play his bagpipes. There was an opening speech, then a soup of potatoes, and then Chris, the guy who I met at the pub crawl, 'addressed the haggis.' Yes. The chef brought out some haggis, and I think Chris read some poetry by Robert Burns over the haggis. And then he stabbed said haggis with a knife, and cut it up. I noticed that he laid his Scottish accent on a bit thicker than normal. He spoke more gutturally than normal. Now, haggis can be prepared in multiple ways, but essentially its a sheeps heart, liver, lungs, and brain all cooked inside the intestines. Yum? Ya, fuck no. I've tasted it a couple of times and I really dislike it.

Dinner consisted of haggis (I got the vegetarian haggis), neeps, and tatties. Neeps are turnips (they look like yellow mashed potatoes) and tatties is basically mashed potatoes. And then this guy Calum, who I also met at the pub crawl, drunkenly (I cant quite determine how intoxicated he was) read another Burn's poem. Calum too made his already Scottish accent a bit thicker than normal. After dinner a guy addressed the lassies, and then a girl addressed the laddies. They were both only English (how boring), but basically their speeches are supposed to berate and mock the opposite sexes, but praise them nonetheless despite their shortcomings.

After dinner I walked back to campus and caught the end of the Ceilidh--its a sort of folk dance to bag pipes and more folksie music.

Today I went to classes; shopped a bit too much; and later went to a pub with my friend Chris (not the Scottish one) who also goes to USC. All in all, the past few days have been a whirlwind. I don't even really remember clearly what I did last Friday. I'm slowly feeling more at home in Edinburgh; I really don't want to leave and return to the states. I'm not homesick, although I do miss people (namely, my dachshund) from home. In the back of my head I keep considering graduate school here...

There are certain things I miss from the states...like actual indoor heating, toilet seat covers, free-refills on sodas, and one faucet at the sink that combines both hot and cold water. But really apart from that, I can't think of anything that I miss (ok, Mexican food. And orange juice. And fruits. And popcorn. But seriously I'm done). Otherwise, I love this place; I'm slowly growing acclimated to the fact that they drive on the opposite side of the street, and the class-work is becoming familiar and comfortable. I also know my way around the general vicinity of my flat and the university. That in and of itself is incredibly comforting. I also have friends, and I don't really feel lonely, not like I did the first couple of days. And I'm starting to get to know the kids in my classes, which is pleasant.

It's strange how something so unfamiliar can slowly become the most comforting thing ever.

Comfort Zones

This city is feeling more and more like home. I only had one tutorial today, so i was done with class at noon. I got lunch with Bri at this place called City Restaurant. My breakfast consisted of sunny side up eggs, bacon (which was essentially ham), sausage-tasted weird, toast, a potato scone (yummy), and coffee. We wandered around Old Town towards the Royal Mile. It was decided that it was necessary to stop into every single touristy-esque shop. I bought some shot glasses, a plethora of post cards (and stamps too!) and even whisky-flavored condoms. I had to.

Then we walked, arms linked together, towards Princes Street, which is one of the most crowded shopping streets in Edinburgh. I bought a purse at Topshop...and am planning on going back to that store tomorrow in order to do some serious monetary damage. We walked over to the movie theatre and saw "It's Complicated." Scottish popcorn is certainly worse than American popcorn for one reason and one reason alone: they do not put butter on their popcorn. This is truly baffling, especially because every other food in this country is either doused in butter or deep-fried. I really liked the movie, but all the scenes of the ocean and California really made me just a tad bit homesick.

Then, Bri and I met up with Jessie and we grabbed dinner at a restaurant called Aspen. I had fajitas. Incredible.

I went to a party tonight with Bri, Jessie, my flatmate Olenka, Alayna, Mirjam, Jackie, and Alison...needless to say, we were rather the spitting image of a herd of girls. We had to dress up like the country we were from, or the country we were studying abroad in. I put on a bro-tank that had 'American Gladiator' written on the back and called it a day. The party was actually quite fun and interesting, especially because it gave me the chance to meet some non-Americans.

As soon as I got there I started talking with this guy who was Polish, but also grew up in Finland. He made some comment about how he knew there were a lot of American girls here at the party, and I should go talk to them and be comfortable--and that's when it hit me. I was done meeting Americans; I didn't give a shit about being 'comfortable.' Absolutely nothing about this country is 'comfortable,' so really, what does it matter anymore? I talked for a while with some Irish bloke and a Scottish girl who was from Aberdeen--that's a fair bit north of Edinburgh. Apparently, they want to study abroad next fall in California, and they were drilling me with questions about the greatest state in all America. It's true. I met a guy who was from the Czech Republic; I talked awhile with some Canadians--and of course I met a bunch of Americans who were from all over the country. One of the guys whom I met is clearly a huge stoner and pulled a joint out right then and there in the pub. I was amazed, but somehow strangely pleased that I always somehow magnetically draw male stoners to my side. It's becoming something of a skill at this part. "Hello, my name is Kat. I like to read, write, oh, and I possess this extraordinary talent of being able to attract the hugest stoners to my side. It's true; they flock to me like a fat kid to a cake."

I met some more Scots, and then talked for a while with a guy who was from Brasil--he was definitely one of those people whom I would categorize as being incredibly handsome. Olenka made me go back and ask for his number, which I did, though I doubt I'll ever call him.

I'm getting better at walking up to total strangers and striking up a conversation with them. I'm not especially good at it, but being in a foreign city really makes you uncomfortable for most of the time. When you lack a comfort zone, everything is uncomfortable. But as a consequence, it makes doing uncomfortable things strangely less awkward--for no matter what I was doing at that given moment, it would most likely be awkward and uncomfortable. Does that make sense? Sometimes you just have to square your shoulders back and march right up to someone and say, "Hi, my name is Kat." And you see where the conversation leads you. I really do enjoy meeting new people, especially people from different countries.

This is what the Royal Mile or The High Street looks like. It's only a hop, skip and jump away from my flat.

My Favorite Short; My Favorite Joy; My Favorite Sadness

Because sometimes when you're alone in a new city, you need a little inspiration to get you through.

Classes

Well...I discovered that Mondays will be my worst days this semester.

I wasn't able to get to bed until past 2am last night; I sat for a while in my chair, idly staring at the wall and willing sleep to come. I realized that having a coke at 6pm hadn't been the best idea. But after reading a short story by John Bunyan (if you don't know him, trust me, you aren't missing much), I didn't feel like doing much else productive. I watched "Post Grad," which might be one of my new favorite movies. I couldn't sleep because the wind was so loud--I could feel the wind literally pushing against my cheeks, coming through the glass panes like invisible tendrils or fingers.

Ok, but once I fell asleep...well, I woke up this morning and it was sunny outside! It was so beautiful! I kept the blinds open for a while, before closing them against the cold wind. I went to my scottish lit class, then wandered over to The Elephant House to gaze awhile upon the castle and read a bit of Shakespeare's "The Tempest." Then I had to meet up with several kids for my "ALG" or Autonomous Learning Group. Uni of Edinburgh has these groups for the English Honors classes..basically we meet in groups and answer questions, and then have to present said answers to the class.

I became rather irate during my ALG..one of the girls thought it appropriate to show up late, not do all of the reading, and then become irritable that even though myself and the two other people in our group had done the readings, we didn't know all of the 'answers.' I should stop complaining...I hate being so negative but these two girls just rubbed me the wrong way and it took all I had to not slug them right in their smug little faces.

I liked the boy, Allan, though. He is from Perth, which is about an hour north of Edinburgh. He was very nice, sweet, and easy to talk to. And, he's one of the few people from my classes who I feel gives me the benefit of the doubt--even though I'm a Yank. We walked over to our next class together and talked about literary...little things. I like meeting other people who like to write. And as we talked I couldn't help but admire how beautiful the buildings of the campus are--I want to say they were built either in the Victorian or Georgian Period, but then again, I am no arcitecture expert. And it was still gloriously sunny though! But that meant that the snow was melting :(

During class I realized that I was only one of two Americans--everyone else was either from Scotland or England. Oh, there was one Canadian (they always seem to get swept under the rug).

After class (in which I talked aloud and slowly the butterflies left my stomach for other hiding places...my mind wandered and I loved listening to everyone's accents, or broghs, as apparently they're referred to in Gaelic) I had to head over to the library and have another ALG group for my Shakespeare course.

As I walked home at 7pm it suddenly hit me how exhausted I was. Seven hours of class is simply too much. But I found out that my friend Jessie bought me a ticket to go to St. Andrews this Saturday with the International Centre! It's the "home" of golf, and the oldest University in Scotland. Should be fun! And on Sunday I'm planning to go to the National Gallery with some peeps. I can't get over how much there is to do in Scotland! Or even Edinburgh, alone. I'm still formulating in the back of my mind an EPIC trip into the Highlands!

In health terms, I've been feeling a bit tired lately. I'm not going out tonight, and I didn't go out last night. I guess my body hasn't fully recovered from mono yet. It's such a bummer. I'm glad though that none of my friends caught it from me. Lucky bastards.

I had subway for dinner..I caved and gave in to my American-lust for fast food. It was glorious. It's almost 11pm over here. I can't decide how to put myself to sleep...read Shakespeare, or watch Braveheart?

Lazy Sunday

Today was incredibly relaxing. I woke up in a much better mood than the one I left the night before...went to the gym with Olenka and Bri in the morning. It was the first time that I have exercised since October! The last time I exercised I felt sick-and lo and behold, a day later I got the flu. After getting mono, I was done; stick a fork in me, I could barely walk 10 feet, let alone go to the gym. I'm finally starting to feel rather like my old self, which is incredibly invigorating! I still get tired sometimes (like yesterday), but all in all, most of my energy levels have returned to normal. I still wake up exhausted every morning, but this might just be mono coupled with jet lag. Even if I sleep nine hours, I wake up feeling like somehow has punched me in the face and stomach--and it takes every ounce of energy, will and strength to get myself out of bed.

The gym was awesome. The men/guys don't dress like their male counterparts in the states. They wear shorter shorts (well this is the country that's obsessed with rugby, so go figure), and the girls didn't seem to care one way or another whether or not they were wearing makeup. Olenka, Bri and I walked over to the gym in the morning, marvelling at the fact that it was sunny outside! The sun felt incredible against my face, and Olenka was right--going inside on a day like today was next to sin. We got to the gym though, threw our jackets into empty lockers, and headed into the gym proper.

After we were done stretching we wandered around the gym, but sadly due to construction we couldn't find the archery or rifle range...or rather, it wasn't the construction that stopped us, but the fear of accidentally wandering in the wrong direction and getting shot in the head.

After showering Bri and I headed over to The Elephant House, a delightful coffee shop nearby our flats. We stayed there for over four hours, catching up on homework. I read Shakespeare's comedy, "The Merchant of Venice," as well as John Bunyan's autobiography, "Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners." I might have had pizza, a brownie, two cups of cocoa and a mocha coffee during the course of those four hours. Chris joined us for a bit, which was nice.

After the sun had set (it sets by 5pm) we headed over to Tesco--it's their equivalent to a Vons, or I'm not sure..it's a cheap grocery store. I love grocery shopping here...most likely because the variety of food that I buy is ridiculous. I got chocolate digestive crackers, rice milk, orange juice, an assortment of frozen dinners, trash bags to throw my laundry in (I'm too lazy to actually buy a laundry basket) green tea, as many disgustingly unhealthy cereals possible, and some rather pleasant Scottish oats...they have a picture of a man wearing a kilt on the front. I couldn't resist.

We made dinner, and then I had even more homework. I read a short story by John Bunyan, and now I'm currently debating whether or not I can sparknotes a play by Congreve...any more reading and my head might burst!

The Past Few Days...

This past week has been..wow.

I can't even quite remember what happened on what days. My classes are alright...they involve a little bit too much reading, if I could be honest for a moment. By next Monday I ought to read Shakespeare's 'Merchant of Venice' and another 50 pages of Bunyan's 'Grace Abounding.' My Shakespeare class only has international students in it--and at that, it's mostly Americans. Oh well. I wish I was in the section with the actual students from U. of Edinburgh, but I'm still content with the fact that my teacher is British, and charmingly hilarious in a particularly British way.

Last Thursday night I went out with a bunch of people to a pub for dinner. I finally ordered a baked potato, complete with baked beans and cheese mmmm. We then went to somebody's flat for a while--but the people who lived there (a mix of Brits and Yanks) were rather rude...so we ditched them and popped into the pub that happens to be in my dorm! I totally didn't realize that there was a pub literally 50 ft away from my flat! Excellent.

The British (including the English and Irish but particularly the Scots) seem to be a rather closed-off group of people. I sat down next to a few guys, but even though I threw a comment or two in their direction, they didn't seem in any way inclined to make small talk or even acknowledge my existence. People tend to come into pubs with their friends; they sit with their friends; they leave with their friends; they aren't interested in talking to Yanks at all. After a while we left and went to another pub--this one had a backroom with a GIANT bed in it. We sat for a while, and I further analyzed the groups of Brits surrounding us. For some reason, they seem less friendly than typical Americans--but maybe Americans are just as much closed off, and I've never noticed it before?

Yesterday (being Friday) we took a bus out of the city to Roslin in order to see Rosslyn Chapel. It's about 500 years old, and has links to the Knights Templar (it's even rumored that the Holy Grail is hidden there!). We even wandered down to the old remains of the castle...I learned how to walk down hills covered in ice!

Today I went to the Edinburgh Zoo...honestly, it was a little on the stupid side to go to the zoo during the winter! It was raining this morning, and the wind was so strong that I felt like I was being blown backwards! I couldnt even use an umbrella because it kept blowing backwards. (note: the other day I discoverd a particularly nasty combination of weather: incredible wind mixed with snow/sleet. the wind knocks the snow DIRECTLY into your face! i was actually laughing when it happened because it was so bizarre). At least this zoo wasn't as depressing as the zoo in London (seriously, that zoo is depressing! all of the enclosures are small and the animals look depressed!).

I think I spent an hour in the chimpanzee enclosure (it was indoors and delightfully warm), and after a while contemplated becoming a zoologist before realizing that I'd have to go into the wild and study the animals in their natural habitat..and quite possibly live in a tent for several years. My friend told me a particularly nasty story...a friend of her friend had a snake, either a boa or python she couldn't remember. One day the snake got out of the cage, so the girl put it back into its cage. The next day she woke up and the snake was lying horizontally in the bed right next to her!!! The girl took the snake to the vet because she figured something must be wrong with the snake. The vet told her immediately to get rid of the snake. Apparently, when a snake considers eating something large, it lays next to the thing/animal horizontally to see if it can fit said thing/animal into its body. GROSS. I decided then and there that if by chance I have a kid someday who wants a snake, to absolutely refuse their request and buy them five dogs and five cats instead. *Shiver*

Oh, last night i saw a funny thing in the bathroom. A condom dispenser. A McCondom Dispenser. Yes. Whisky-flavored condoms. Am I going to get some? Abso-fucking-lutely.

FIVE DAYS IN EDINBUR-AH!

If I'm not mistaken, I created this blog several weeks ago for the sake of recording my adventures whilst in Edinburgh and the greater UK. I appreciate wholeheartedly how it has taken me this long to sit down and write an entry. I just keep getting distracted by...everything!

I got into Edinburgh airport last Friday. The flight wasnt too terrible (note: I just got up from my desk to peer outside and try to determine what that ear-splitting rumble was. Thunder? nah, just the wind. If you didnt know, the wind here is particularly garish), but at a certain point I wished that my life was like a montage. Why couldn't the image of myself of sitting on a plane last a mere seconds, as opposed to 12 hours? A gal can dream. My father and I smoothly went through customs, and I received my visa. We hopped into a cab, and my attention was immediately drawn to a strange crinkling sensation in my nose. After disposing of my hypochondriac thought, "Am I dying?" I assumed it was my snot freezing...my sister later confirmed that I was not dying, and indeed the aforementioned sensation was merely my snot freezing. Well, that's pleasant.

And the snow! oh the snow! I've lived in Los Angeles my entire life! So much that I have been missing in my life. Everywhere was a winter wonderland; snow carpeting the ground gently atop the rolling hills and cobblestoned streets. Upon arriving at the hotel, we slept for a few hours, but then around 1pm we ventured out into the city. It was cold. I was not used to the feeling of the wind and chill biting at my legs through the flimsy material of my leggings. But I could not deny that I was wandering within a medieval city--and that thought alone was enough to keep some of my misery at bay. We wandered through The Meadows, but everything was covered in a thick blanket of snow. We walked through the University, and eventually discovered my flat, Robertsons Close.

The Scottish call an alley a "close" or a "wynd." This is the close that I have to walk along in order to achieve my flat.

Tricky, eh?

The next day, Saturday, we did a bit of shopping and moved all of my stuff into my flat. I have my own room (fancy that, I'm sitting there right now!), which is rather pleasant, especially after last semester where I had three other roommates in ONE ROOm! (I love you all, though). We wandered up to Edinburgh Castle, which was built in the medieval period. I don't know much about the castle, but this might be due to the fact that I was incredibly jetlagged and didnt really pay attention to any of the placards. Oh, and it was snowing. Special. But Mary Queen of Scots lived in this castle, and she was imprisoned in this castle, and you can even see the room where King James the VI of Scotland was born! He later became King James the I of England after Queen Elizabeth died without an heir.

Later that night my father and I dined in one of the nicest/coolest restaurants in Edinburgh, called The Witchery. Its located in a building from the 16th century!

And then, he dropped me off at my flat, and went back to his hotel room to get a few hours of sleep before returning home to Los Angeles. I finished packing and tried to not think about the fact that I wouldn't see him until late March.

Sunday I attended my orientation. I headed over with my friend Cara who goes to USC as well, and met a few of her flatmates. Long story short, during the orientation I received a rather dull tour of the university (it's spread out through the city, sort of like NYU, but not thaaat spread out. Also, the city is A LOT smaller than Manhattan), and learned a bit about the university. Oh, and I met some peoples. After orientation I walked over to Prince's Street, which is one of the main shopping streets, with a few of the people I had met. Afterwards we went to Pizza Express om nom nom.


Classes are a bit..different. I am taking three English Literature classes--a second year course on Scottish and English writers; a third year honours course on Shakespeare; and another third years honours course that examines the emergence of the 17th century novel and the impact of subjectivity, modernity, etc. on said origins. I have a ridiculous amount of reading for these classes--I read twelve plays for the Shakespeare course; 11 books for the 17th c. class, and I dont even want to count how many for the Scot/English class. I bought 18 books today, that's more than 100 pounds, and I didn't even buy all of the books that i need. So if you're not an English major, don't ever complain to me about how many books you have to read (true, just one science or math book MIGHT be more expensive than the combined list of mine...but still...shut the fuck up).

It's actually rather pleasant attending a university where people take you seriously for studying English. The English department here is the third best (after Cambridge and Oxford, I'm assuming) in the UK, and the university itself is one of the 20 best in the world. I'm starting to see what a proper education is. And sadly, I'm realizing that USC might not have been the school for me academically speaking. Of course, there isn't really anything I can do about it. But honestly the only great departments are for the business and film schools--or at least that's how I feel. I like being here--the people are all incredibly intelligent, and they seem to take their education a bit more seriously. I think. I don't know..I'm rambling. All i know is that I wish the classes that I'm taking here I could also take at USC. I just don't feel challenged anymore at my home university. And I'm sick of the comments that people make, that English is an easy major. You go read Chaucer in Middle English or Joyce's Ulysses and tell me what the hell each of them authors is on about.

Well, I ought to get going. I'm going out to a pub perhaps for dinner tonight with a group of people, and then we're heading over to another pub called Bannerman's to meet up with some other international students. It's cool to be an international student!


Oh! I like my flatmates. I have two--one of them is Ines; she is from France, and she goes to school in Paris at Sciennes Po. She is going to make me and our other roommate, Olenka, crepes tomorrow night! Olenka is American and goes to Wellesley. I've made friends with another girl, Bri, who goes to Wellesley as well. And a few other people who go to Brown. I met a Danish 'model'; a girl, Mirjam, who is from the Netherlands, as well as a smattering of Scots and Brits. My goal: to know the difference between all of the accents, or "brughs" as they're referred to in Scot-talk!!

OOOO and one last thing. I had lunch today at Elephants and Bagels!!! Apparently it's owned by another coffee shop, The Elephant House, which is where JK Rowling wrote the first Harry Potter book!!! AWESOMEEEE. Im going to that coffee shop asap!

Missing you all. AXOXO.

Special note to my lovely achio ladies: I miss you all and I wish I could be there right now! Keep me posted on EVERYTHING.