5) Eat haggis. Don’t gag.

Today was a wonderful day. After matriculating into the university and registering for classes with the School of English, I took the opportunity to wander around St. Andrews on my own and learned much in the process. Also, I participated in two very Scottish pastimes: the dancing of a ceilidh and the eating of a haggis. First things first.

Walking around St. Andrews was simply magical. I picked up some more odds and ends at Tesco, a local grocery store, found books I needed for class at charity shops, glorified secondhand stores with a purpose, and ran other various errands. Being that I was flying solo, I was able to find every (albeit, lame) excuse to speak with Scottish people. Excuses like walking into stores just to browse or asking sweet old ladies for directions. Everyone is very friendly and approachable. Eventually I made my way back to the seashore and ambled through a graveyard with dates from the 15^th century, no kidding! In the spirit of the moment I also purchased a large Scottish flag, which is now proudly displayed on my tack-board.

I’m sure you all are mostly interested in the ceilidh and cuisine part of the day. So was I! The ceilidh was similar to contra dancing, but obviously not the same. Dances were mostly comprised of bounces and spins. Very spirited dancers are bred in this part of the world! At risk of sounding like a curmudgeon, I must comment that the Americans were not very spirited dancers. Most people seemed more eager to jump on the British drinking policy bandwagon. I chugged water; it just hasn’t been the right time to sample a bit of the bubbly yet. (For the record, the alcohol must have had a reverse effect and made everyone more reserved. I’ve never seen such languid men at a dance, ever!)The highlight of the wild ceilidh was, by far, me dancing with a member of the band as a demonstration. He was a musician, Scottish, and wearing a Red Hot Chili Peppers band t-shirt. I felt like a princess! What didn’t make me feel like a princess was the haggis.

I cannot lie; I wanted a bit more excitement out of this infamous dish. My friend Ruth and I braved the sheep’s innards boiled in a cow’s stomach bag together. We poised our spoons and then 1…2…3…nothing. Seriously, haggis wasn’t that bad – but it wasn’t super amazing either. A hint of spice made the haggis distinct. Still, it wasn’t particularly disgusting. For the life of me, I can’t understand why we would ban this dish in America. I’ve tasted far more shocking foods, I assure you! There you have it. I sampled haggis and didn’t gag, didn’t do much of anything really - one experience down, nineteen more to go.

Tomorrow I hope to tour the castle. What’s left of the castle, anyway. Until then!