I am William Wallace!

Stirling, once the “Gateway to the Highlands”, still houses a rather imposing castle despite the fact that a hideous university and awkward national monument have made their way into the landscape over the past hundred years. Thankfully, nobody forced me to attend the University of Stirling and awkward monuments provide ideal outlets for tourist expression!

Our merry band of four boarded a double-decker bus early this morning and set out on a very memorable day trip. Under the careful supervision of my Scottish friend, we successfully took public transportation across the A91 to the outskirts of Stirling. Convenient for us, the 23 bus stopped right in front of the National Wallace Monument. It must be said that, as fantastic as the monument is, the actual structure is a bit awkward looking. Now, I appreciate Victorian architecture as much as the next person, but this Gothic-style obelisk rising out of the hillside is slightly jarring to the eye. In any case, our group dutifully paid the student entry fee and soon found ourselves at the monument’s base.

Whilst waiting for a dramatic storytelling performance, we decided to stroll around, snap photographs, and enjoy the sweeping panoramic views. Turning a corner, leading to the back of the monument, my friends and I saw a group of people gathered. Assuming we had found fellow audience members, we charged forwards. In the crowd, one man was spreading a strange chalk-like substance over the grass, allowing most of the dust to catch the air and fly away. I assumed this was some sort of preparation for the show, but couldn’t think of what on earth he must be doing. Getting closer, my Scottish friend noticed that a few of the audience members were crying. What a dramatic performance! Then, like a bad sit-com, it hit me. The chalk wasn’t chalk at all, but ashes. We were about to crash a funeral! Mortified, all three of us ran lickety-split back around the corner and tried to stop ourselves from bursting into uncontrollable laughter. Death is no laughing matter, of course, but you have to give us credit for thinking the whole bizarre scene a bit comic. After about five minutes the mourners began to clear out and we bowed our heads out of respect as they passed. Seriously, who chooses to release ashes at the back of the National Wallace Monument!?

However, the dramatic retelling of the Battle of Stirling was worth the wait (and embarrassment!) in the bitter cold. Our actor was just so lively and engaging! He was having such fun playing the part of a soldier in Wallace’s army and, as a byproduct, solidifying the historic material. I soaked up every word. Incidentally, after the performance, we chatted with this chain-mail clad warrior and came to find out that he was the drummer at our ceilidh earlier this month. He didn’t remember us, but did graciously say something to the effect of, “My memory must be failing, because I would have remembered such pretty girls.” Thanks, man!

The National Wallace Monument, also, was worth the 246-step climb to the top. What a view! Moreover, the concepts of ‘windswept’ and ‘weather-beaten’ were brought to whole new levels. No wonder the Scots drink so much whisky to take the edge off of the biting North wind! My kindred-spirit and I took this opportunity to shout “Freedom!” and other Braveheart lines at the top of our lungs. I usually find myself worried about what others think, but today I let my inhibitions go and had a blast. Spiraling our way back down the narrow staircase, our merry quartet decided to venture into the heart of Stirling for a bite to eat and, ultimately, to the castle!

Stirling Castle was the first, genuine fortress I’ve ever been to. A few summers ago I did have the great fortunate to visit Neuschwanstein Castle in Germany – but I would argue that, though beautiful, the fairytale palace of a slightly deranged Bavarian prince doesn’t quite count. Besides, Stirling Castle is actually fortified! Once again, our visit was graced with a proud Scotsman as a tour guide. I love hearing locals discuss their heritage, it’s so exciting! The highlight of the castle for me was the Great Hall. Restorers have produced a replica of what the inside of the Great Hall actually looked like during the time of King James IV. Tapestries adorned the sidelines and hearty fireplaces dotted the walls, leading dramatically up towards two thrones at the head of the hall. Renaissance music was piped through invisible speakers and I could actually see courtiers in their finery dancing an almain. I really appreciated the creative effort to conjure up atmosphere. Kudos to Historic Scotland! I could go on and on about the castle but my genuine comments would be the same: I love old buildings, I love history, and I love Scotland. Leaving the castle with a few postcards and one very discounted journal (£4), I considered myself blessed to interact with times gone by in such a real way.

Riding back on the bus was also magical, with the ghostly galleon moon rising above the purple moor (a shoutout to The Highwayman and my kindred spirit!). Now I’m left with pleasant memories of the day and John Buchan’s Thirty Nine Steps to finish. Tomorrow is looking quite busy with church and the beginning of White Wash Week. Getting a good night’s rest to face the day! Remember, “Fight and you may die. Run, and you'll live - at least a while. And dying in your beds, many years from now, would you be willin' to trade all the days, from this day to that, for one chance, just one chance, to come back here and tell our enemies that they may take our lives, but they'll never take OUR FREEDOM!”

16) Learn new words.

I intended to pace out the fulfillment of my list over the course of these four months and yet, when an experience happens, I must document! A coffee conversation (the best kind!) with fellow study abroaders revealed that I have, indeed, learned new words. (Though it must be said that I haven’t felt, and probably never will feel, totally comfortable using all of them in conversation. Brits just seem to own the language in a way that we Americans never will.) Get ready for the easiest vocabulary lesson ever!

Dreich has already been introduced and it is, indeed, quite a fine word – perfect when describing the cold, rainy, windy Scottish weather. You might use the sentence, “Aye, it’s a wee bit dreich just noo.”

Daily life in Scotland, I’ve found, offers many opportunities for overcoming language barriers. To take the lift is to use the elevator. Forming a queue means to get in line. Although most Americans know what a toilet is, I think we would be far more likely to use the word ‘restroom’ instead. Along those same lines, it’s incredibly important in Britain that you use the word trousers instead of pants. Pants, as you would quickly discover, are underwear!

Moving onto more useful words, the Scots have incredibly endearing ways to tease one another! Have a friend that’s a bit of a loveable idiot? Call them a numpty (It’s perfectly safe, I promise!). Eejit is also a word that means idiot in sort of a sweet way. Having a blonde moment? Use the word muppit, which has basically the same connotation.

If you’d like to get from point A to point B, knowing a few geographic terms could be incredibly helpful. A burn is a small stream or creek. One day when I was lost, a sweet old woman gave me directions to make a left at the wee burn. I’m sorry to say that I politely nodded in total confusion and kept going, having absolutely no idea what she meant! In Scotland a ben wouldn’t be the name of your next door neighbor, but a mountain. A loch is, as you probably know, a lake. Funny story: in the Great Glen region there’s a body of water called Loch Lochy, literally, ‘Lake Lakey’. How terrific!

Hopefully the blustery night will not bring in too much snow and the buses will be running to Stirling tomorrow so my mates and I can have our much-anticipated Braveheart moments. Stay tuned for some amazingly stereotypical American tourism!

Culture Shock and Academic Adjustments

I must be feeling guilty about all of my sappy-sweet posts. It’s time for some cold, harsh realities! Even though my overwhelming impressing of Scotland has been absolutely blissful, I have faced several “culture shock” moments. Studying abroad is about studying all aspects of society, including the uncomfortable ones.

First of all, Scots are known for drinking – a lot. Being from a conservative Southern American background, the sheer presence of alcohol has been an adjustment. Even in our halls of residence, alcohol is totally allowed and accepted; people throw back cold ones in the foyer, in the kitchens, and even in their rooms. In defense of my peers, most students socially drink to relax from the day; then again, many students do drink to get absolutely plastered. I’m not opposed to sipping the bubbly but will always draw the line at drunkenness. (Thank you, Prohibition!)

Along those same lines, Europeans are far more comfortable with co-ed environments than I am. For example, all the halls I’ve seen at St. Andrews are co-ed. Coming from a college where male and female dormitories are deliberately separate, this freedom also came as a shocker. Many of my friends were a bit surprised to hear of the stringent visitation rules at Berea College, just as I was surprised to find that my neighbor was a guy! At first I was hesitant to tell my family that New Hall was co-ed, but I think we’ve adjusted to the fact. If you don’t want a guy in your room, don’t invite them over. It’s very simple.

On a far more superficial note, a huge moment of culture shock came for me when I discovered that Brits have to pay to watch television. You heard me right. In Britain, the BBC has total control over the media and subjects must purchase a television license to watch the news, or EastEnders, or whatever. I’m sorry to say that my first reaction was, “But I’m an American!” Honestly, this problem doesn’t really affect me at all since I’m not a huge television person anyway. Still, my “home of the free” mentality was temporarily wounded!

In terms of classes, I knew that the traditional British university was more independent before I came. But sometimes, even though we know what to expect in advance, the reality can be difficult to accept. As excited as I am to be studying English Literature, I’ve found the course work difficult to balance. For an instance, this week I didn’t finish a book in time for one of my modules. Sitting in seminar today I could almost picture a huge, flashing, neon sign on my forehead, giving the dirty secret away. What kind of English Literature major has problems with reading? I felt like a criminal for not honoring my lecturer with my best effort. Because the British system is far more independent, professors and students are each expected do their bit. Marks for the semester come from two essays and final examination; reading through the material is totally done your own pace. This problem, however, did follow me from across the pond. Last semester I had difficulties finishing up all the reading for both English courses. Fellow classmates - who were absolute angels! - encouraged me to not be too hard on myself. All I can do is try to finish up the reading and begin again with next week’s material.

Hopefully this post wasn’t too depressing for my dear readers! On the whole, I’m having a wonderful time in Scotland. Day after day, I am reminded why God sent me to St. Andrews as opposed to any other university; this place is becoming so special. On Saturday a group of us are going to Stirling Castle, so look forward to awesome pictures and prepare to get your Braveheart on!

A dreich day

Scotland showed her true colors today, I’m afraid. Absolute gale-force winds brought in a smattering of snow, sleet, and rain overnight. Dreich, as you may be curious to know, is a Scots word meaning “dull, overcast, drizzly, cold, misty and miserable.” Though I have a hard time imagining a miserable Scotland, today certainly fits the other five adjectives! Since the petite travel umbrella I packed was no match for the high winds, this morning was quite wet. Thankfully, a golf shop on Market Street had a sale on and I invested £12 in a golf umbrella.

Despite the frosty weather, warmth can be found.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the Christian Union as a part of my study abroad experience. Their friendship and shared faith have been such an encouragement. This week is 24/7 Prayer, sponsored by the Christian Union. Basically, Holy Trinity Church has opened a side boiler room (it looks far better than it sounds!) for us to use and the space is available, as you might imagine, 24 hours a day 7 days a week for prayer; such a dynamic way to challenge myself and invest in the life of St. Andrews.

On the docket tonight is a bit more homework and Bible study, but not before a wee nap!

What a Romantic (Movement!)

Since coming to Scotland, I’ve understood the Romantics - Wordsworth, Coleridge, Keats and the gang - in a way like never before. Though not all of the Romantics lived or worked in Scotland, that type of wild, rugged beauty was certainly reflected in their writings. My two modules for this semester (Scottish Fiction and Development of the Novel) are incredibly appropriate to my own experiences, putting the study in study abroad! For an instance, in Scottish Fiction we’ve just finished reading Robert Louis Stevenson’s Kidnapped! Wouldn’t you know that David Balfour, the protagonist, traversed the exact landscape I drove across yesterday? Wild!

Way back last year when I applied for this program, I said that my goal for the semester was to immerse and engage in my host country as it relates to literature. Even though I’ve only actually been here (surprisingly!) three weeks, I know that these initial inklings are only going to grow in clarity. Even as a reader, and as a writer, I’ve felt so compelled to become more prolific in my work. May this vigor with which I’m approaching my academic and personal work endure!

In the same vein of connecting the scholastic to the individual, a brief conversation today made me think about how the gap between American and British history should, actually, be a very small one. A few of my classmates and I were chatting after our lecture about the rich heritage of this island and how so many aspects of history are integrated into daily British life (I’ve written about this in a previous post.). My classmate from Cumbria asked why I kept using the third person in reference to history. “It’s your history too, right?” he asked. I had no answer. I suppose I’ve always held British history and American history in two separate hands. They’ve never been one and the same. Thinking in terms of a more global community, I suppose that the history of the United Kingdom and the history of the United States are more closely connected than I ever realized. Naturally, some elements uniquely belong to one country or another - Americans can never claim a genuine castle and Brits can never claim Manifest Destiny – but many of our historic moments are completely interwoven. Although I still don’t have the audacity to tout Scottish heritage (I wouldn’t dare!) or adopt an English accent, I am comforted to think that the history which surrounds me every day is a little bit of my history as well.

Thoughts expressed and a Samuel Richardson novel to finish, I’m off to another evening in New Hall. Cheers!