"What are men compared to rocks and mountains?"

Let me just say, before I begin today’s post, that Skype is amazing. Last night, I conversed with a friend almost 4,000 miles away for over an hour. Thank you, technology.

Early this morning, after a rather difficult time getting to sleep, I awoke to a “loud two tone continuous ring.” Yes, a fire alarm. Let me assure you the “loud two tone continuous ring” was not as polite as it might seem! Temperatures in St. Andrews this morning hovered around 3 degrees below freezing Centigrade, which I also know from personal experience. Twenty minutes in the frigid Scottish air wasn’t too terrible, but the commandant-like Assistant Warden yelling at unruly residents and grouping us into lines was. Then again, he probably wasn’t too happy about the early wake-up call either. This experience did give me a chance to reflect on St. Andrews’ (slightly) amusing fire drill protocol. In a city where clear directional signs are not frequent, fire escape signs certainly are. My theory is that one too many thatched-roof castles bit the dust in the Dark Ages and the Brits are now compensating for lost assets. Thankfully, I was able to return to my bower of slumber and roust myself at a more decent hour. Maybe the promise of meeting ‘Friend Berea’ for morning tea kept me going!

Lectures went well today and I sense that (finally!) my temporarily lost motivation for schoolwork is slowly returning; I also found a very study-friendly corner high up in the library which offers a very fine view of the North Sea. (I am sorry to say that the university’s library is a horrific 1970s architectural monstrosity which should be demolished, and every building constructed during that decade likewise.) At the same time, I can’t help but wonder how students get any work done at all in such a stunning environment. Today’s daily jaunt around St. Andrews revealed a new favorite place of mine, which I vow to frequent as often as possible. Alas, my Canon Powershot was left in New Hall so words must do the seeing for you. Imagine this scene:

A narrow lane called The Scores soon reveals a sheer cliff-face, dropping into the brilliant blue ocean below. Houses, which have proudly stood against the winds of change, still challenge the enormous waves crashing against their bases. Seagulls swarm about the air, taking death-defying plunges towards the surface of the water, dotting the cliff like pearls. I sit on a bench, silent, unaware of time or the constraints of the day – fully aware of the beauty which surrounds me.

I sat on that park bench for an hour, basking in the sun and almost weeping with fondness. Mentally, I stripped away the modern structures and imagined what the landscape looked like totally pure and unadulterated. Yet, despite small obstructions, the sea shore was absolutely breathtaking. Living in one of those ocean-front homes would be a dream. My flat doesn’t need to be a multi-million dollar property, or even in St. Andrews, just a sturdy structure facing the sea where I could carry out my life. Bliss!