Weekend in the Lakes District

Much have I traveled in the realms of gold, and many goodly states and kingdoms seen, round many Western Isles have I been...

Thus spake Keats of his literary 'travels,' and thus speak I of mine. I had quite the weekend, after all. It was my 'homestay' weekend, where I was shipped off three hours south to a small town called Ulverston, in the County of Cumbria, England. For those of you keen on your early 20th Century comics, you'll already know that this small country town is the birthplace of a one Stan Laurel (more commonly recognized in conjunction with the name Oliver Hardy). So there's a photo of me with the famous comic duo, replicated in bronze.

Ulverston is a pleasant town located about an hour northwest of Lancaster, where everyone knows everyone, and no one locks their doors. I stayed with two other exchange students with a woman named Jan Moffat and her husband, Andy. She lives in a nice cottage in the center of town - though the word cottage is deceiving: it had more than one room.

Let us pause, however, and take us back to a moment when I had not even met the bus to Ulverston yet. This weekend's entry I reckon will be lengthy, but bear with me, I saw a lot. So - I'm walking to the bus station to meet the van hired for us when I was assailed by such a striking figure that I stopped on the street to stare (rude, I know - yet wonder had captivated me). No, the figure wasn't a woman's, but a man's - a gentleman's, to be precise. This guy looked as if he had stepped out of a Charles Dickens novel. Not exaggerated. Not flashy or put on - I believe he was a genuine article. Dressed in proper leather walking boots, high woolen socks to his knees pulled over a pair of khaki trousers, his straight posture and arresting height made him stick out like some sort of Sherlock Holmes. He stood, one hand jammed into the pocket of a thick canvas riding jacket, leaning against a lamppost, freshly lit cigarette glowing dimly in the twilight just below a bushy mustache. I cannot say there is massive significance in relating this to you folks, but I was captivated by his imposing figure and gentlemanly dress.

But back to my weekend: above to the right is a shot of a memorial lighthouse in Ulverston commemorating Sir John Barrow over the town's church and some rooftops.

Ulverston itself is clearly a medieval town. The street map looks like someone gave a toddler a marker and let him scribble for about five minutes. Very narrow roads, old stone buildings, the works. In fact, they still have a market that pops up in town every Saturday morning, with stalls selling produce, books, clothing, &c.

After market on Saturday we took a train to Lancaster and saw the castle and old church, called the Priory. The train ride was across beautiful countryside full of sheep pasture and streams out to the sea. Lancaster Castle is actually a prison now, but there is a gift shop regardless, and tours of some parts, as well. An interesting fact I learned from a man at the gift shop? During the War of the Roses, it turns out that Lancaster actually supported the House of York, and York actually supported the House of Lancaster, because of some political business I didn't fully understand the explanation of.

After the castle we headed to the picturesque Priory across the way as the sun set behind us. We also went to check out these Roman Ruins that had been excavated in the 1970s. There were multiple signs to the exact location, we had received identical directions from two different people, and yet these ruins were absolutely nowhere to be found. We even googled them afterwards, and an empty field of grass came up as the picture. We had been walking around that field in the cold after sunset on Saturday night. Still don't know where the hell the ruins are, or if it's just an elaborate tourist hoax, or what - but that was a bust.

So what did we do? Went to the pub! We wanted to get a bite to eat, but the kitchen wasn't running dinner, so I just got a pint. It was an interesting microbrew called 'The Graduate,' and I decided I liked the pint glass. Those of you who came with me to Montreal will be surprised that I actually went to the bar to ask if I could buy the glass, instead of pinching it. However, to my surprise, the barkeep told me just to take it! So now I have a neat pint glass which I hope will make it back to the US un-shattered.

The ride back to Ulverston was not as picturesque in the dark, but I did some writing on the train. AND ate a 'Yorkie Bar' - a candy bar with the most ingenious marketing system I've ever seen for a bar of chocolate. The wrapper just said 'Yorkie Bar - It's Not For Girls!!!' So, as a guy, what did I do? Buy it immediately, of course, excited as to what kind of sweet, interesting, chauvinistic candy this could be. You know what kind it was? Just a normal freakin bar of chocolate! And bad chocolate at that! I was amazed, appalled, and slightly amused. After all, I can only imagine the Nestle executives saying, "How can we get more people to buy our average chocolate? Well, aside from marketing it as normal candy, we'll package the same thing in a different wrapper and say it's only for men! Then they're egos will kick in and make them eat it. And Women will buy them just to prove us wrong!" Geniuses.

So that was that. The next day Jan and the three of us drove into the Lakes District, where Wordsworth and Coleridge wrote and lived at the turn of the 19th century, and where the famous art critic John Ruskin would lives years later. Above to the left is Ruskin's grave, a very pretty monument in a town called Coniston, just beside a wonderful lake called Coniston Water. The whole area was very beautiful - the roads narrow, hills everywhere, and lakes scattered here and there.

Those of you who know me extraordinarily well will know that one of the things I love are stone walls. Can't get enough of them. For one thing, they are the deciding factor that makes New England a fundamentally better place than New York and New Jersey. Regardless, there is just something about them that I love (so when Robert Frost wrote "Something there is that doesn't love a wall," he wasn't talking about me). These walls were everywhere! Old, rustic, and multitudinously running throughout the entire region, dividing swath of hillside pasture from swath of hillside pasture.

Of course I could not leave this inspiring region without paying a visit to Wordsworth's house - Dove Cottage - and so we stopped by for a look around.

The shop was closed, and Wordsworth's home was shut up, but that did not stop me. You don't send Kevin Brown four-thousand miles, across an ocean and through the mountains, and turn him away from the house of William Wordsworth. So I hopped the fence in the backyard and crept around for a while. It isn't a large place by any means - more of a cottage than Jan's was, in any case. It had a lovely terraced backyard with steps up to a stone bench, and I can only imagine how it must look when everything is in bloom in the Spring. Regardless, it was still an inspiring spot in the Winter. I can definitely say that it was a surreal feeling to be sitting on the hillside where the father of Romantic poetry tended to his garden. I took a rock from his backyard as a souvenir/paperweight. I don't think he would have minded. The picture to the left is his home from the backyard. On the ride out to the bus station we stopped by the shore of a lake that seemed just like any other spot we'd seen. I asked why we stopped and Jan told me that in the Spring the entire bank was covered in masses of daffodils - the very spot had inspired Wordsworth to write I wandered lonely as a cloud, which I had recited at F&M last Spring during the Emerging Writers Festival. Pretty cool.

That is about it. Jan was a lovely cook and we ate well the whole time we were with her. We picked each others' brains about American and English society/culture, and she told me to call if I have any questions about England in the future. Now I'm back. It's about 8:30pm here and I have about fifty pages of reading to do before bed because I couldn't be bothered to do it during my home stay. I also have a paper to write this week, due next Monday, on James 'Bysshe Vanolis' Thomson's poem The City of Dreadful Night - the most depressing poem ever written, ever. 2,000 words - shouldn't be a problem. I already have lots of ideas.

I hope everyone on the East Coast is having an alright time with the snow. None over here; just really cold and occasionally drizzly. O! Something I forgot to mention last Wednesday was that on Monday the 24th I took a cocktail bartending class where, for 10 pounds, I got to learn how to make (and then drink) four different speciality cocktails and variants (and from the bartender voted the 'Best in Scotland' in 2010 no less!). That was a good time, and something I definitely wouldn't get to do at F&M. It was organized through the school! My scarf has become a part of my body. I never leave home without it and I think my neck has actually grown more prone to getting cold because I wear it all the time so it's sad without it. Pledging must have begun at 249. Hope that's getting on alright. Keep me updated.

Burns Night and Interviews

Hello All! I'd like to start this entry with a shout out to my 'Scot of the Week' - Danny Dey. A new segment in my weekly updates will include a friend I've made here! So for those of you who are with me here in Scotland...you could be next! Danny is a fun-loving Scotland native from the town of Forres (where King Duncan's castle sits, in Macbeth). I met Danny through Calum, my flatmate, after I was introduced to the guys and girls upstairs. He is studying education so that he can teach elementary school, loves working with kids, and is an incorrigible narcissist (after all, the 'Scot of the Week' segment only came about after Danny told me "Put me in your blog! Put me in!") So that's Danny! Pictured to the left out one night at a club!

Last night was a special one in Scotland, when the nation comes together to celebrate their quintessential poet laureate - Robert Burns.

It's kind of like that American holiday...o wait, America has no holiday honoring its literary figures. But of course we celebrate people like Columbus, who was Italian, and didn't even discover North America (rather the Caribbean). Anyway, Burns Night has some interesting traditions such as 'piping in the haggis' - I still have no idea what this means, I keep imagining this large absurd procession of kilted men escorting a silver platter of haggis through the streets to the sound of bagpipes - along with singing 'Auld lang syne' and dancing/eating. I still have not tried haggis, but not out of disgust or fear. Rather I just haven't had too many ready opportunities. I cook in most of my meals - but my day of reckoning is coming. I'm sure you'll hear about it, when I give it a try. To the right is Mr. Rabbie Burns himself.

Interesting fact learned from Mr. Silver in the 11th Grade: Salinger (R.I.P.) took his title "Catcher in the Rye" from the Robert Burns poem Comin' Thro' the Rye.

As festive and cultural as Burns Night sounded, however, I was unable to partake in the festivities due to two interviews I had over skype. They were back-to-back with two different private boarding schools in Connecticut. So hopefully I'll be teaching English at one of them this summer! They're both great schools and I'd be happy to end up either place. Interviewing at 8pm was strange haha. Of course it was only 3pm in CT, but for me - clad in shirt, tie, and cardigan, planted in front of my laptop - it felt far too late to be at an interview!

Had kickboxing today. I paid my £15 and am officially a card-carrying kickboxer. Paired up with two others and had a good work out. Hands are still shaking, and I'm very thirsty. They apparently have a ball (a formal) coming up, at a club they've rented out, in February. So that'll be fun, and perhaps smack something of Kappa Sigma's ragers.

That's about it for now. Looking forward to Shap in Cumbria this weekend. The only other place in England I've been so far is Heathrow - so I haven't actually been to England yet. I imagine it will be an adventure something akin to Roslin this past Sunday. I obviously can't wait to take more random day/weekend trips like that. Even though I went by myself it was a great time. In fact, I really tend to like doing things on my own in any case! So I've been put in Britain and told "Go! Do something entertaining!" and I hope I'm doing just that - for my own amusement as well as yours.

Thinking of you all!

What a Day!

A long entry for today, but bear with me: it is a day to remember - and to think it began in confused disappointment.

My plan for the day had been to wake up at 8:30, shower, eat, &c, and meet a group of students at 9:30 to walk the seven hills of Edinburgh. So when I arose at 10:30 to see that my phone alarm had been on vibrate I was a little dismayed. So I showered, &c, sulking that I now 'had nothing to do.'

Yet I could not accept defeat. After all, there's always something to do when you're in a new country and have only been in one city for 99% of your stay there. So I went online and looked up bus schedules, hopped on a bus, and hopped off again after about thirty minutes. It was a pretty place that looked 'country-ish' enough to be a change from the city. Turns out it was Roslin.

And what a day I had there! I originally only got off because I saw a sign that said "Roslin Glen Nature Park" and figured I could walk around. Pshhh. Turns out there is a chapel there built in 1446 - Rosslyn Chapel - that was commissioned by a Scottish noble back in the day. It's had quite the history and is currently undergoing extensive restoration. This put a damper on a lot of photo-ops but I still took a lot of great shots. It's made of sandstone, and age has turned it all different shades of brown, pink, red, and orange. All around it were old graves and memorials to duchesses and earls and such. Among its historical significances are a visit by Dorothy Wordsworth (Willy's wife), a stabling of horses there once by Cromwell, and a seizure/destruction of property during the reformation.

It was covered inside with intricate carvings and masonry, supported by tall pillars, and covered by an all-stone barrel-style roof. Flying buttresses and everything. No photos allowed inside, though, so I'll just have to remember.

After a twenty minute talk about the chapel I embarked to Rosslyn Castle - or the ruins of, rather. It's a private residence but you can easily walk all around it. Truthfully there's not a lot left, but what is left is commanding. I took an absurdly dangerous route down a muddy, winding hillside path (wearing my Sperrys, which were not designed with Scotland in mind), and emerged from thorny thickets and moss-grown trees onto an old, stony pathway leading to a massive arch built in between two cliffs that had a pathway on top. The castle is very much ruined. Only a few large walls are left standing, and an eerie quality of time-wornedness (<-- invented word) pervades the whole place. It was a place grown up and piled upon itself - here a bit of ancient sandstone breaking through a verdant tapestry of vines and moss, there the crumbling remnants of an arch found only half-formed, reaching over a space where centuries have covered up the path that once lay below.

Not to bore my non-English-Literature-keen reader base, but the whole experience rang of Ozymandias to me, a la "Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair! / Nothing beside remains" &c &c...

I found out after I'd been there that apparently the last scenes of the DaVinci Code were filmed in the very spot, as well as at the Chapel. That's called retroactive tourism, I imagine.

From the castle I meandered rather aimlessly (having no plan seemed to be working at this point - after all, if you don't know where you're going, everywhere you end up is a surprise!). I found my way to an abandoned gunpowder mill by following a small river upstream. Not much remains, but you can clearly see where the great wheel must have stood between a pair of central walls, cut apart by a deep gully that once connected with the river. Apparently it supplied gunpowder to British troops fighting Napoleon in the 1800s, as well as soldiers in WWI & II.

From there I found my way to a sheep pasture at a place called Kirkettle Farm. I had been walking uphill a while and BAM I had another shocking experience reminiscent of Arthur's seat, when upon turning around I realized the scenery behind me was astounding: snow-capped hills rolling away under a uniformly blue and white patchwork of sky reaching to the horizon.

I turned around and headed back the way I'd come when it became apparent I was trekking into the anonymously wide-open and muddy Scottish countryside, away from civilization. Yet my day was not done! The walk back was just as interesting as the one I'd had there. All along the pathway there were remnants of older 'somethings' - rather eerie, again, but in a grand way. Inexplicably I would pass a great height of crumbling brickwork embedded into the face of a ravine with odd branches of rusted metal winding out, or else simply a few dozen cobblestones set into the forest path, though none had come before and none followed.

I hiked back up to town and ordered a hearty supper at The 'Original' Roslin Hotel (it's apparent competitor - simply the 'Roslin Hotel' - stands across the street). I'd had a coffee there that morning upon arriving, and the atmosphere was very quiet and relaxing. The food was excellent, and once I got talking to the lady who tended the bar, I learned the most extraordinary thing! One of the best things my father ever gave me, I believe, was the confidence and means to begin conversations with complete strangers. All those times you embarrassed me when I was little, Pop, it was clearly for the best. But what did I learn?

Well, apparently I was sitting next to a farmer - a shepherd, to be exact. But not any shepherd. This one's name was John, and he happened to have been the shepherd in charge of caring for a certain sheep named Dolly, the first cloned animal. And here I was having a pint with him. What a day. So as I horsed on with John and the barkeep, I realized that Roslin was in fact the town in which Dolly was cloned. Retroactive tourism strikes again! The critter to the left isn't Dolly, but the resemblance is uncanny...

So I hopped back on the Lothian 15 bus headed for Edinburgh after paying my bill, and wondered what I would have done had I simply accepted the defeat handed to me by an all-too-silent cellphone alarm earlier in the day. I am glad I didn't. Instead, I stood amongst the pillars of a 15th Century chapel, clambered around a castle of comparable age, met a famous farmer, and had the best apple and toffee pie I've ever eaten to boot! That's proactivity for you.

In other news, I had two great nights out this weekend, compared to last weekend's quietude. I went out with the kickboxers to a student union pub/club called Potterow (The Big Cheese), which mixes top 40 kind of songs with cheesy ones. For instance, they played "cotton-eye joe," and to my amazement, no one knew the dance! And here I was swinging my legs around and pantomiming lassos like I was back in the sixth grade. Wales has broken the European market, btw (for those in the dark, I mean a certain drink, not the country). I ordered an entire pitcher after explaining it to the bartender, and shared its glory with others.

Class at noon tomorrow - just two lectures to attend. The picture above is my attempt at a self-timed photograph with the camera balanced on a pile of rocks that had fallen off the castle from above. It was right below the massive arch that supported the main ramp into the castle's courtyard.

O and someone stole my cashmere scarf at some point last night. Buzz... Won't be wearing that out again. Hope everyone at home is doing well!

And one last thing!! Whenever I tell (British) people I go to uni in Pennsylvania, the immediate response, 100% of the time is: "O! UPenn!" which prompts me to explain that, no, Pennsylvania has more than one uni. In fact, I tell them, you couldn't hurl a rugby ball forty feet in Eastern Pennsylvania without hitting a college, or two. They usually respond by saying, "O, so you must go to Penn State?".....but I think there's hope for them yet.

Kickboxing and Cashmere

'Allo, all. There's a pigeon outside my window that has been staring in to my room at me for a solid eight or nine minutes. Just keeps pecking away at my window and cocking its head to one side or the other. That pigeon is a little like you, I suppose, peeping into my Scottish experiences. Didn't think you'd ever be compared to an city-dwelling pigeon? Well, you just were.

I finally did it, by the way - took the stereotypical 'Look I'm by a big red phonebooth!' picture. Behold.

How British.

Also, I have managed to solve a problem that has been dogging me since I arrived a little over two weeks ago. You see, for all you know, every picture of me that's been taken so far may as well have been on the same day. Well, such is not the case, but why might it seem that way? The weather here pretty consistently dictates that I wear a jaxket and scarf out whenever I leave our flat, causing me to look unchanged every time a photo is taken! So I bought a new scarf - a cashmere one, sheared and manufactured in Scotland - to alternate with my old one, so that you can tell that I didn't just take forty pictures one day and post them over a five month period.

So that covers the cashmere part of the title. But kickboxing?

O yes. So - here I was in Teviot (one of the student unions), talking to a girl from one of my classes while we waited for three other students. I was telling her how it felt weird having to make friends all over again halfway through college, so she suggested I come to her kickboxing team's social that Saturday (tonight). She also said I was free to come to kickboxing if I 'fancied it.' After being snubbed by the archery team - and then un-snubbed, apparently - I was in the market for a good workout/team experience, and so decided that I did fancy it.

It was a one and a half hour work out that definitely got me moving. First twenty minutes was all calisthenics - fast feet, push ups, high-knees, planks (all stuff I'm used to...1) - followed by about an hour of kickboxing in pairs. It was a lot of fun! I didn't think I'd get so much enjoyment out of hitting pads with boxing gloves on, but it was great haha. Our trainer would demonstrate a move/combination and have us practice it in pairs for a bit, and then give us a new one. Sooo I got to meet some new people, am attending their white t-shirt highlighter party tonight, and will certainly be making a return next week. I think I'm going to hand in my resignation to the rowing team - not that I was that heavily involved anyway. I could barely move this morning, sore as I was from kickboxing (half of which is holding the pads aka getting beat up for five minutes at a time) and being out all night.

Fun fact: John Knox, the principal founder of Presbyterianism (if memory serves from Modern European History in high school), lived in Edinburgh, and his house is now dedicated to him. Jenny Licata - if you read this - note the beard. John Knox had a beard.

As far as classes are going, I've adopted a 'work hard now so you don't have to later' approach. By this I mean that for my tutorials (small group meetings composed of eight people from out of the hundred and fifty or so from the lectures) I have to give a presentation at some point. So I opted to be the first presenter in all of my classes, meaning that I have to do a fair amount of work now, but won't have to worry about anything except essays for a while after this week.

Last night myself and two girls from my program went out for DPC - Dinner Pub Club night. But because of poor organization it ended up just being PC instead. Still, it was a good night and it was the first time I've been at a club until it shut down.

My family visit is next weekend, meaning I'll be traveling to Shap, in northern England, to stay with a woman and her son there for two days. It's a very pretty region in the Lake District, apparently - very isolated and rural. So that'll be exciting, and a nice change of scenery.

As far as long-term plans, I'm starting to think about where I'll be traveling come March/April during my three-week Spring Break. I may not have the full three weeks to travel due to essays or what not, but I'll be making an effort to get all that finished asap if possible. I'm open to suggestions from people who have been around the Continent/UK and really loved one place or another. Places I want to go for sure at some point are: Copenhagen, Istanbul, Paris, and various places in Italy (I think for Italy I might buy a multi-day rail pass and just bump around from place to place). If I could get to Istanbul I think that'd be amazing (after all, Murat gets to see our homes and culture all the time, so I'm trying to even the playing field).

All for now. Expect postcards soon. I just have to buy the international stamps.

Some photos, and Rowing

I am quite tired, but should post these pictures, taken yesterday. Also, no doubt my numerous readers will be wondering what became of me at the rowing meeting? Your suspense shall be answered!

But first, some photos...

Left: Edinburgh seen through a window of the Ruined Chapel near Arthur's Seat

Our hike led us through the hills to the chapel and then upwards to Arthur's seat, standing about 250m above sea level - nothing massive, but still quite commanding beside the triple sprawl on each side of Edinburgh's buildings, rolling lowlands, and the great Firth.

The sun setting over western hills,

Photographed from top of Arthur's Seat

Light and Dark Hillside with Moon above,

taken around 3pm

Yours truly in a window of the Ruined Chapel

Southern Wall of the Ruined Chapel,

Standing on hillside near Arthur's Seat

Taken near base of Arthur's seat,

The Ruined Chapel at upper left above a loch

Such have been my travels.

As far as the rowing team goes, I checked out the team meeting and was thrilled to see a lecture theater fill up with rowers and coxswains (opposed to the much smaller number the team at F&M attracts). I introduced myself to the coach and then the whole team went...to a pub! So we stayed there until about ten thirty yarning on until I retired back to good ol' Darroch Court. Met some of the team, especially the novice coach (a second-year), and had a merry time.

Today was just a fitness day indoors at the gymnasium (apparently one of the premier fitness centers in the UK - and it's private to U of E students/faculty), so I just cycled for 45 minutes with the novice team, going up and down in intensity and stopping once to stretch out as a group. Having not done much more exercise other than running on a whim for the past year, it was tiring, but the weariness I'm now feeling at 11:44pm is a good weariness - the fatigue of exercise.

I also inquired about whether or not, as a coxswain, I'd have to do every work out with the team, since my role would primarily be organizational-motivational. At F&M I was always a little dismayed at being expected to participate in all the fitness that the rowers had to. Of course it built rapport with the rowers - but it tired the hell out of me, and then my skills never even got a test in the water, and were lousy relative to the guys that were all twice my size and had an actual motivation to train so as to be good in races (whereas I was simply being forced to). Imagine my rapture when Barney (novice coach) told me I could work out as much or as little as a wanted!

Take this not as wimpiness, however: my reasoning for retaining choice in which rowing work outs I attend is indeed selfish, but not lazy. If I can pick and choose my rowing fitness schedule, I can perhaps edge my way onto the archery team at the same time, coxing for the rowers only when they need me. Archery is what really interests me at the moment. I tend to have a resourceful, independent personality, and - judge for yourself what this says about me - the concept of a rowing team, that of being part of a unit that must work cohesively without thought for personal fatigue, etc, does not entirely mesh with my disposition. I feel more comfortable doing things on my own, for the most part. Archery seems like quite the solitary sport. After all, it's just you holding the bow and placing your arrow. Two people can't do it (let alone eight at once), unless you have an extraordinarily large bow. Of course, knowing little to nothing about archery, maybe I'm totally wrong and it's a very team-oriented sport. You and I will find out together (except I'll actually be doing it and you'll just be reading about it :P ).

So that meeting is tomorrow (Wednesday) at 2pm, but as I have lunch plans...I may not make it to a practice until Thursday at 7pm. I'm excited, nonetheless.

Cakes and Ale! (And Poetry!)

Friends and family - what a few days it has been! As much of a baptism into the academic operation of The U of E as this past week has been, I have found my time outside the classroom equally illuminating.

Right: A view of the city - castle in background.

Thursday night I attended a 'poetry slam' - a thing I believe critic Harold Bloom once called 'the death of art.' I differ. Basically it's just a competition to see who can perform and present their original poetry the best, with rounds of elimination and a final winner. At F&M, any literary event is lucky to get a turn out of more than twenty students who are there of their own free will. This event - held in a pub, for starters - drew what I'd say had to be more than a hundred attendees, and seventeen competing poets.

These poets were not just idle scribblers, either. Cliche as it sounds, these people seemed to really be 'living their art,' and by that I mean that poetry is something going on for them 24/7. Most of the poems were about sex, love, violence, food, or anger (also one about haggis - another about the Minotaur), and after all, aren't those the things we're given to thinking about most of the time? The presentation of most of the poets was moving. Most had their works completely down by heart, which gave them the opportunity to really put action and emotion behind it, instead of reading off of a page. In a way, I'd say it really challenged my whole concept of what poetry is about - that being: more than words arranged nicely on a page in clear meter and rhyme, but also a kind of living, genuine thing that can be messy and still sensational.

So that was eye-opening.

On a more mundane note, I got my atm card in the mail, and went to the nearest Barclays to activate it (since they are partnered with Bank of America). However, the atm did not prompt me to activate it or anything - as if it already was. So either Papa Brown did the honors, or else activating my temporary card activated the official one, too. Regardless, the whole debacle resulted in my wading thirty minutes downtown to a soggy atm and back for no real reason. Of the scenery here is so stunning that no sixty minutes walking around without a purpose is really wasted.

And speaking of scenery! I went for a run again today, this time around the extinct volcano and its surroundings from a different approach. I remain blown away. I jogged up a low-grade, winding, paved pathway for about twenty solid minutes until BLAM! over a squat stone wall I catch sight of a magnificent bay stretching outwards onto a distant shore. So stunned was I that I left the path and climbed the wall, sitting on it a few good minutes as my ipod continued to blare into my ears. The water (the Firth of Forth) was amazing to see, especially after having been in a close-fitted city for 95% of my time in Scotland thus far. In fact, add that city-feeling to the feeling of running around in gloriously verdant hills for an hour, and the sudden appearance of a massive body of water becomes astounding.

I promise I will take a walk instead of a run sometime soon so I can take along my camera. Below: St. Giles Cathedral, Farther Below: An old, cool door to a campus building.

I've contacted both the rowing team (called the 'boat club' here) and the archery team about joining up potentially. I'm loath to pick up coxing again only because of the massive time-suck it became at F&M. I really enjoyed being on the team, but one or two practices every day, six or seven days a week was a bit much. And being the coxswain, there isn't a load of reciprocal gain you get out of spending all your time yelling at a bunch of guys who are all substantially larger than yourself. I hear that it is different, here, however, so I may once more don my uni and takes to the waterways of Scotland. Archery interests me more, however. As questionable as it may sound, I in fact recall being a pretty good shot in middle school phys ed. I even joined the after-school archery club and remember not being atrocious. So hopefully (for just 20 pounds!) I will soon be giving William Tell and Robin of Locksley a run for their money.

My circle of friends is ever-expanding, though the going be slow. I enjoy hanging around with Calum. Iain works weekends so I haven't seen him in a while. I made a few friends from my program's orientation that I've mostly been hanging around with, and they're fun people. Still, going from F&M - where I can say with confidence that I am well-situated socially - to Edinburgh - where I know virtually no one - has been a shock in some ways. Not a paralytic one, but certainly one of a disorienting nature.

This, in turn, lead to my reading an entire George Eliot novel on Friday - albeit it was Silas Marner, her shortest work. I've been doing a lot of reading, actually. Even though I've been told by many past-Edinburgh students not to work so hard as to sacrifice cultural or social opportunities (since my grades don't affect my GPA this semester), I still find that I genuinely want to do most of the reading for my classes. Also, with the limited social circle and slowly blossoming queue of extracurriculars I'm involved in, reading is a delightful alternative to...doing nothing!

I had dinner tonight with Rachel Gold, a girl from F&M doing an internship with Scotland's parliament, and met the six other ladies interning along with her. I'm impressed that after only two weeks here (less, actually) I am capable enough to explain the city and a lot of its cultural stuff to other American fresh off the plane.

And so I beat on, a boat against the current, borne ceaselessly over the cobbles of the city.

Tryna learn, 1?

"Even people whose lives have been made various by learning, sometimes find it hard to keep a fast hold on their habitual views of life...when they are suddenly transported to a new land, where the beings around them know nothing of their history, and share none of their ideas..."

That's George Eliot above - a quote from Silas Marner, which I'm reading now. It's not so true, that all the ideas here are different. I haven't, also, found that many of my habits have changed, or that my 'view on life' has, either. I'm certainly seeing new things and meeting new people all the time, but my contact with them usually only reminds me of my usual habits, rather than replacing them (purposely dodging people on the other side of the sidewalk excepted). I suppose it's mix and match.

So what's happened in the last few days...?

I signed up for some 'societies' aka clubs. I joined a literature society, with which I'm attending a poetry reading tonight; a writing society which publishes a journal biannually, to which I'll be submitting to; a 'water of life' aka whisky society, which holds tasting classes and visits distilleries; and a linguistics society, which holds lectures on the art and science of speech and then goes to a pub to discuss it. In fact a common theme amongst all the societies is that everyone ends up at a pub one way or another. The poetry reading is being held in one.

So I'll have some clubs to bounce around at my leisure. Meet some people, sample some spirits.

I didn't feel too well yesterday. I had gone to bed at midnight after a quiet night of reading. Woke up at 9 to go out to buy a duvet cover (finally got one!), and when I got back I was feeling weak. Not sure why. So I went to class and then went for a little jog, hoping a little exercise and some fresh air would relieve my symptoms.

WOW. I went for a run and aimed myself for this kind of mountainy-looking thing. It turned out to be Arthur's Seat, Edinburgh's extinct VOLCANO and one of the Seven Hills of Edinburgh. Needless to say I was tired out by the time I got to its base. I had been running uphill on the sidewalk the whole time up to it. So I caught my breath and walked up these really neat stone steps. The view was amazing. I could see almost the whole of Edinburgh, and beyond it, too. There were these great snow-capped mountains off the the left and the city right before me - a city of churches and arcades, etc, etc ;). A lot of the little wow-factor culture shock things have lost their charm after being here a little over a week. "Wow, that building is still really old," or, "Oo...people still say 'cheers!'" But this really blew me away. I wish I'd had my camera, but I'm bound to go back soon in any case. Tendrils of mist rolling off the crags around me and everything.

It felt strange that such a natural and untouched landscape could exist so close to such an urban, old city. Puts Central Park to shame, anyway.

So that was cool. What else? Classes. Burr, it's been a touch-and-go week as far as that's concerned. Got myself settled as far as books and things for now (check the statement, pops). Also I thought I knew where all my classes were: nope! Walked into a lecture today on business principles and ethics or some nonsense whilst searching for my Scottish Lit lecture. It apparently moves location every Thursday. So I found the right hall, and it was a different professor giving the lecture than the one from Monday and Wednesday. On top of that, he was talking about some critical essay I'd never read, at a mile a minute, speaking so quickly that I could hardly internalize any of the de-contextualized mumbo jumbo he was horsing on about. So it was a whirlwind fifty minutes, to say the least.

BUT I think I got my s*** together and now know what the hell I'm doing. I had a class called a 'tutorial' after that class, which is a much smaller, eight-person cell that discusses the works in close-reading. So that felt like F&M.

Ate lunch at a little cafe serving what it advertised as 'comfort foods.' Very nice little place. I went to pay and the proprietor told me that the card machine wasn't working. So I had to pay cash, of which I had 2 pounds. So I told him and he said it was fine, as long as I came back tomorrow. Realistically I guess there wasn't much more than that he could have done, and of course I'd like to think I'm a trustworthy-looking fellow, but he didn't even ask for any information or anything. In the long run, I imagine, the extra three pounds I owe him probably won't sink his business. Regardless, the food was very good and I'll be going back anyway.

Guess I'll make dinner. I miss you all and hope you're doing well. To fellow fummers, hope the start of term isn't too buzz. Hope 249 is still standing. Heard the fire alarm went off again last week haha. Standard. Without fail every kid here who finds out I'm in a fraternity becomes instantly enraptured with my explanation of how it works. Must be how I act when they start talking about haggis or whatever haha.

One.

Start of Term

So classes began today. My 9am had no meeting space listed - only that, somewhere on the planet, a class would convene on the subject of Scottish Archaeology taught by Professor So-and-so. So I awoke at 7:30am, called up both the Archaeology department and my study abroad advisor, and somehow by 8:59am I was sitting in class, quite sleepy. No lecture - just an overview of the course. At my 10:15am advising appointment I dropped it for History of Art, 1300ad - 1700ad. Interests me more. Only thing is, it meets Mon and Tue from 5pm - 6pm, and my 3-hour English class on Tuesdays has its meeting time as 2pm - 4pm OR 4pm - 6pm. Or? Or? What's that supposed to mean? Does it alternate, or has the lecturer not settled the time yet. If it runs from 4 - 6 I guess I'm out of luck with Art History.

As far as my actual classes go, I was kind of blown away by sitting in a lecture hall just listening for an hour. It wasn't that I had trouble paying attention - I am just used to being able to talk, is all; to ask questions; to be asked questions. What's more, I had the disadvantage of not having known about any of the suggested readings for the first of my lectures, meaning that I was literally taking notes on subjects I'd never read a word about before. I'm pretty tired and have decided that instead of staying up to get a jump on reading I'm going to get a good night's sleep and wake early to hit the library. I don't have the 2-hour long English class til 2pm, so I have all day to get my plans and materials together.

As far as cultural oddities go, I've realized that the fact that the British drive on the other side of the road affects which way you're expected to pass them on the sidewalk. It is my instinct, having walked only on American streets for 99.9% of my life, to take the right side of the sidewalk when another person is coming my way. I don't even think about it, and may never have noticed it unless I encountered so many people over here who instinctively do the very opposite. This is by no means a 100% of the time occurrence, but it happens often enough that I've begun making a concerted effort towards dodging to my left instead of my right on the way to class and around the city.

Still no duvet cover, and my pillow is so thin I have to fold it in half so that my head doesn't sink through it and rest on the mattress. Brendan, if you read this: enjoy every moment of that glorious Queen sized bed, for I am feeling its absence. As far as the duvet cover goes, I've settled on getting a "Peppa Pig" one from a discount store. Peppa Pig is apparently some kind of children's cartoon in the UK, with a little pig that gets into mischief or something. All the other covers had rhinestones or flowery girly stuff on them. So why not settle for a bunch of cartoon pigs in pirate hats and on tricycles and what not?

I've been eating well. Made lamb and veggies again today, with some couscous on the side. Once again enjoyed those sausages for breakfast. Legendary.

I can't say I'm particularly overwhelmed but I definitely feel a little unprepared. It's just such a different system, and I haven't had much preparation for it other than theoretical explanations.

My swollen finger is better. Still kinda hurts.

Alright. Going to make some tea and watch television with Calum. I miss living at 249, there was always something to do. Once I have my life in order, however, I'll be busy enough balancing my studying and with Edinburgh's nightlife to keep me entertained. It's a whole different scene here than F&M, obviously.

They're Trousers, Not Pants

To the left: a sunset over the Firth of Forth. Say that five times fast. A firth is like a big bay type thing at the mouth of a river. The Forth, then, is the river.

I've been walking around the city today. Went food shopping and got familiar with campus. The uni (university) had some kind of activity or meeting for international students today, but I didn't go. I heard it was just some talks and a tour of campus. So I just printed out a map and gave myself a tour.

I need to buy a larger comforter, or duvet, or whatever. The one I have barely covers me and doesn't have a cover yet. Last night I slept rolled up in a cocoon in hopes of staying warm. Didn't manage to get out to the store to buy a better one today, so tonight will be a repeat.

Last night was fun. Met Iain and he and Calum and I went upstairs to another flat to socialize. As far as pop music and rap go, kids here like the same kind of stuff as do Americans, but some of the songs will randomly be a couple years old and just getting popular now. It's fun to hear them sing American songs in their accents.

Speaking of accents, my usual sobriquet is, of course, KBreezy. Here, however, they're inflections make it sound like "Cupreesi" or something like that. They think it sounds funny and like to say it, and I think it sounds funny the way they say it. Also, Kevin has been transformed into "Ken" by way of their accents dropping the 'v' - like saying "Ke'in." Not everyone does it but it'll catch me off guard at times.

One of Calum's friends, Don, is in town from Glasgow (where Calum's from, too). We hung out a bit today and talked about America/Scotland. Tried to figure out the differences and similarities between our political systems but ended up watching YouTube videos instead, of course. When discussing American culture, he asked me if I'd been to a Walmart, and if my family owned a gun (and if everyone carried a gun, or not) haha. I tried to clear up the issue, but of course I guess that's just as bad as an American asking a Scot if everyone wears a kilt and has a red beard.

The friends I made upstairs are all proper partiers. We had a good time and were out and about. I've successfully introduced the term "to rage" into their vocabulary, and they look forward to 'raging' soon. For the elder subscribers to my blog, it means something along the lines of drinking and partying wildly - not a new concept by any means, just a new word popular at F&M and elsewhere. So rage we will.

ALERT: I had the most delicious sausage I've ever eaten in my entire life this afternoon. Woke up about noon, went to Tesco, the local grocery, and bought some foodstuffs and whatnot. Thought that a certain package of sausages looked particularly appetizing and so picked them up. I don't know if it was a fluke, but it may be that America has heretofore been incapable of producing a sausage in the league of that which I ate today. Amen.

I have class at 9am and 12pm tomorrow, and an advising appointment at 10:15am. Might drop the 9am class (archaeology) and pick up an art history class that meets during the same time. Can't go to both though, so I'm going to the one I'm already signed up for until my advising session to see if I can switch in.

There's no Tylenol here. Buzz. So I had to ask what was the equivalent. Not sure if I'm just fatigued or not, but I hope I'm not getting sick. Also bought the equivalent of Airborne fizzy tablet things in hopes of buffering my immune system. Apparently American television shows aren't the only things to show up later on in Scotland: Swine Flu is still a problem here. 1.

About to make some lamb chops. I'm still going out tonight but won't do much drinking, due to my 9am lecture. Wondering what being in a class of 150 kids is going to be like. Largest one I've had is 25 - 30 kids.

Also, their education is subsidized by the state. Wtf F&M?

Moving In

So yesterday we wrapped up orientation and had time to go about the city. Walked around with some friends and found the library and some academic buildings. The picture is of me in front of Greyfriar's Bobby, the little dog that went to and from his master's grave after he died for fourteen years every day. I think Robert Louis Stevenson wrote a story about it. We also found the grocery stores, where we're living, et cetera.

The big building above is McEwan Hall, where a lot of classes are and also where graduation is held. It's huge and really beautiful.

The city itself is very hilly and everything seems piled on top of everything else. Every time you walk a block your view of the city changes depending on your elevation. Most buildings are pretty old, but sometimes there will be a five hundred year old cathedral next to a store from 1968. It's funny to think that so many of these ancient buildings, which all seem grand and impressive, are home to stores like starbucks and subway on the ground floor.

Noticed that popular music here is either pop music that was popular in the States like three years ago, with recent stuff mixed in, or else like 60s and 70s tunes. It's weird to see university kids dancing like crazy to "Build me up buttercup" and belting out the lyrics. A good time, though. A refreshing change from F&M's beat-bumping, rap-laden party scene (not that there's anything wrong with that, either). Have only been to pubs so far, no clubs or anything - which I hear are usually packed and an alright time.

Moved in to my flat today. It's a nice place right next to the sports facility, with a view of Arthur's Seat, and extinct volcano, from the common room. I'll put up a picture sometime. The only ornamentation my quarters boast is a Red Sox pennant, a "Newcastle Brown Ale" bar towel, and a Norman Rockwell calendar my dad gave me before I left. I was going to buy posters or something now, but I figure I'll try to buy some if I go on trips or to tourist attractions and put those up instead. Room is pretty standard - four walls, desk, dresser, bed.

I've only met one of my flatmates thus far - Calum King. Iain, the other, is out at work. Before I moved in I got a sheet Calum and Iain had filled out about their interests. Calum's read:

1. Girls

2. Booze

3. Sport

4. Adult Entertainment

5. Bacon & Eggs

Iain's first 'interest' was "Cleaning up after Calum."

Needless to say, I felt confident that Calum was going to be a character. I just met him a bit ago and he's a nice guy. Likes to go out and what not, and is very friendly. Said he just wrote down those things "for banterin' sake," but that they were mostly true anyway. So I'm to go out with him and his friends tonight. He's Scottish, and I assume Iain is too. Either way, I'm looking forward to living with them. The flat is composed of three single rooms down a corridor, with a common/eating area on one side of the end, and the kitchen opposite, like a "T."

I've been using more Scottish vocabulary since yesterday, sometimes without realizing. Cheers instead of Thanks sometimes, "Nae bother" instead of "Don't worry about it." I also notice that the way I say some words is changing without my trying to pronounce them differently - the emphasis on certain syllables, certain inflections, et cetera.

All that sounds wonderful! As far as misfortunes, three have occurred:

1. Hurt my finger on a door yesterday. It's swollen up but I think it'll be better in a few days.

2. Got splashed by a bus on two different occasions today. The second time startled me so bad that I leapt into the air and this massive Scottish guy laughed at me. Soggy embarrassment.

3. I was packing my things up in the hotel and the saucer to my teacup that I got with the duty free gin broke into a billion pieces. Alas. Yet the cup remains!

That's roughly it for now. Classes Monday, and an advising meeting. Going to try and call home today. I think I have free international minutes as a bonus with my plan. Excited to go out with Calum and his friends tonight.

A pretty view of the city.

Touring

Took a video of the city skyline. The first three-quarters is pretty light and defined, but the actual old city in the last quarter of the video is, sadly, a little dark.

After a morning of Scottish history, cultural info, and a presentation by a policeman about staying safe in the city, we took a bus tour of the city. Our guide, Ross, clad in tartan kilt, pointed out such places as Robert Louis Stevenson's home (17 Heriot Street), Edinburgh Castle (now a military base), Holyroodhouse Palace (where the Queen spends one week a year), and the largest momument in the world devoted to a literary figure - a gothic spire with a statue of Sir Walter Scott inside. The city is split into two parts: the old city and the new city. The old city dates back to the middle ages. The 'new' city was built beginning in the 1760s, when America wasn't even a country yet. Still sounds old by our standards.

So I found out that an apartment building is in fact called a 'tenement,' or a 'block of flats.' Mystery solved.

Went out to a pub called Doctors last night. Pretty good time. The student I'm sharing the hotel room with has two friends also in the program, so I tagged along and we had a few rounds. Most of the Edinburgh natives were all watching the Arsenal - Manchester football game. They all looked funny because the pub had a big 3D TV and to watch properly you needed these thick glasses that look like black raybans.

Going to get dinner with two girls I met on the plane ride over and a guy who goes to Lafayette. I think we are going to buy cell phones afterwards - either little pre-paid things or else I might get my sim card unlocked and get a European one. We'll see.

The policeman today in his lecture explained how if you see some fellow hunched over in the street covered in his own vomit asking you for change or help that it likely won't be a college kid or homeless person, "but probably my accountant or electrician, hell it might be a member of Parliament! We Scots may have invented the television, penicillin, and the raincoat, but when we aren't inventing awesome stuff we're probably getting hammered." An interesting policeman, for sure. But overall, I see that Scots view drinking as not as much of a touchy or serious topic as Americans do. It really is a big part of there culture. On our tour Ross explained that a certain building we passed once had a hole blown through it after a cannon was set off by a troop of drunk soldiers. The site is now a local landmark and the soldiers are folk heroes. Edinburgh's paper - The Scotsman - even has a section devoted solely to Whisky. It's right next to the "Money" and "Property" sections.

Scottish accents are also starting to sound more normal and understandable, though I've been told that the East Coast Edinburgh accent is a lot softer than its West Coast cousin.

Off to dinner and phone buying.

Landed

So I'm in this hotel they put us at for orientation. Not too shabby. The photo is the view from my window. Everything here looks 56,657 years old and castle-y and cool. Observations I've made:

1) There are very few speed limit signs here (the ones that exist are in mph, not kph);

2) Scottish accents, contrary to my presupposition, are in fact attractive on women;

3) Everyone's lawn here looks perfect due to the frequent rain - no patch of open earth isn't covered with some kind of grass/weed/vegetation

My flights were good. Watched a movie on the way over, and enjoyed the unlimited and complementary supply of heineken offered by the crew. Couldn't fall asleep and so read a bit of "Ivanhoe" - by Sir Walter Scott, an Edinburgh literary great - for a while until we landed. Met a few interesting people in my program on the flights/while we were waiting. One of the kids is from Ridgewood, actually, and we know some of the same people from F&M and Glen Rock.

Took advantage of the duty free store in Heathrow. It seemed like London-made gin was free there because there were no taxes and they didn't have to import it, it being in London already.

Not much else for now. Excited to be here and looking forward to the next few days. Classes start Monday the 10th.

My Travels

Hello all! Knowing myself, I have predicted that my promises to keep up with everyone while I'm abroad are likely hollow and idealistic. Thus in order to remedy this, and to stay in touch with everyone, I have resolved to update this blog thing at least once a week over the course of my five month stay in the U.K. So if you want to know what I'm up to, just check it out!

As far as today goes, my flight leaves around 9pm out of Newark. It's a group flight so I'll meet other kids in my program before and during the flight. Then a three hour layover at Heathrow until I goto Edinburgh, to begin orientation. Which means that after the 6-hour time addition, I'll be a quarter of a day ahead. 9am = 3pm, 5pm = 11pm, et cetera. Figure I'll adjust pretty quickly.

All my packing's done - pretty much just brought sweaters (jumpers), khakis (trousers), et cetera, and my electronics. I'm living in an apartment building called Darroch Court. I'll most likely have a single and share a common space and kitchen with two or three other people. They'll probably be other abroad students or else British freshmen, from what I hear. I wonder: since they call apartments 'flats' in British, do they call apartment buildings 'flat buildings?' Only wondering because if you told someone unfamiliar with the lingo that, they'd probably get lost looking for a low, wide residence, instead of a multi-story apartment complex.

I've got everything mostly wrapped up Stateside. Applications for my summer job are in - hoping to work at a boarding school as a teacher/coach/dorm counselor. Substitute teacher certification just one superintendent's signature away from being official.

That's it for now, I guess. I'll update again once...something else noteworthy happens.