Bagpipes and Bridges

Remember how in a post a while back I mentioned meeting an elderly man who decided that I needed a Scottish grandfatherly type looking after me? Well good, because my other adoptive granddaughter and I have gone to lunch with him a few times now, and on one of them he decided that we should see a bagpipe band. So this Saturday, he got his driver to take the two of us and himself to the lovely town of Crieff. It was about an hour away, which meant an hours drive filled with fascinating anecdotes and history bits about anything and everything we drove past. When we arrived we were in the midst of a little farmers market in the adorable St James square. The pipe band was incredible with bagpipe harmonies and drummers of course as well. It was about 20 people, and happened to be a momentous occasion for the band because today was the final day of the old pipe master who was going to be retiring and allowing the new pipe master to take his place. Quite the festivity. We grabbed a spot of tea after and then made our way back to Glasgow with one stop. Somerville needed to check in on a bit of land that he owns and rents out because one of his tenants is having water issues in her shop. While we were there he took us into the Red Cross's store (a thrift store to benefit the British Red Cross). He proceeded to buy 4 books. Then when we left, he walked around back and started digging through what looked like a dumpster. However, in the car our driver for the day told us that he does this every time he comes here because it is a recycle bin that is entirely filled with the books that the store couldn't sell quickly enough. Apparently my Scottish grandfather takes any opportunity to get new books, even if it is digging around in a bin for them while trying to push himself up higher with his cane. Our driver Phillip even said, "I am not going out there or he would have me holding him by the ankles to get to more of them." But that was the last part of the excursion, and we got back to Glasgow in time for Phillip to go watch the Scotland v. Croatia football game so all was right with the world. It was a great way to see a new part of Scotland, and for once not feel in any way like a tourist while doing it.

Of course, the tourist thing is fun sometimes right?
On Sunday, I went on a trip to see the Harry Potter bridge. I definitely felt the stereotypical tourist shining through, but it was worth it. The whole area was gorgeous, and I can never get over how beautiful Scotland can be. When I was taking pictures it looked like they were fake even as I took them. The morning was extremely foggy and cloudy, but the sun poked through by lunch time. By the time we got to our ultimate destination we even had some blue skies. We spent 2 hours in Glenfinnan, home to the Harry Potter bridge (technically Glenfinnan viaduct) and the black lake from Harry Potter. But all Wizardly magic aside, the area was gorgeous and definitely worth a visit. Plus, I even got a free CD out of the deal because of my sunny disposition and "smiling at everyone" so it was definitely a day very well spent. Although it would have been better with a hippogriff around. 

With a look to the North

This past weekend I had the wonderful opportunity to go see the Isle of Skye. This island of the Northern coast of Scotland had been on my to do list since before leaving the states because of its renowned beauty. It was recently voted by National Geographic as the 4th best island in the world. Needless to say, it still exceeded my high expectations.
The day we drove up was intermittently raining and sunny, giving a fabulous opportunity for a large amount of mud to accumulate on my boots amidst our various stops. We had the opportunity to hike a bit around Glencoe (most recently represented in Skyfall) and see a few Lochs on the way up. We even got to look at a castle, although I was more interested in the beautiful natural areas we got to see. But the real excitement was when we pulled into the Isle of Skye crossing a bridge and driving along the bay to our hostel. From the coach we could see a small ruin, which of course we all decided it would be our first mission to reach. The journey was arduous, but after squishing and sliding our way through mud and rocks, we made it up to see the lay of the land. The ruin was on enough of a hill that we could see fairly well around the area. Of course, being a group of college students, once we got up there the boys just wanted to climb onto the top of the ruin. That caused mild panic, but we all eventually had our fun and decided to climb back down for a little dinner. The sunset was gorgeous and made the perfect setting to our meal. With full bellies and not much to do on the island, we sat around for a bit in the hostel before decided to head out and stroll along the beach for a bit (only in part to accompany two of our group who decided to go for a frigid dip). However, before long the weather drove us back as the rain and wind began to pick up.
The next morning was just as stormy, and we had a quick breakfast before going back onto the bus. Today would be the day to really see the island, and while the weather was not particularly comfortable I loved it. The rain and fog made it really feel like Scotland. It had an ethereal beauty about it as the red and black Cuillins peeked through the mist. The first stop on the island was at a place called Kilt rock, with a folded basaltic lava flow which is reminiscent of a kilt. But to me the highlight of this stop was the wedding veil falls. It is a waterfall that empties directly into the ocean in such a thin stream that it looks like a wedding veil. With the wind that we had, it fanned out as it got closer to the sea. To say it was beautiful is insufficient, but I suppose without bringing people along it is the best I can do. We stopped at a few other places, each of which had sheep and wonderful Gabbro deposits before beginning our journey south again. The longer stop was one called the Old Man of Storr. It was about a 20 min hike up to the rock, and along the way we were battered by rain and absolutely treacherous wind. The best way to describe it is epic. The area had the large black lava rock above us, and a beautiful view below of the hills and ocean, and along the way we passed downed trees which had been cleared. Between the roughage on the ground and the gale force winds it felt like we were going on some kind of legendary adventure instead of a mild hike up a mountain. On the drive back, our bus driver missed a turn while we were all singing along to a Scottish jig, so we ended up making a bit of a detour to drive by Lochness before stopping to grab some dinner in Fort Williams. It made us a little late getting back to Glasgow, but I couldn't have cared less after the weekend I had. Isle of Skye is impossible to describe, but I hope this was close.

Life gets REAL

I guess in my case packing a bag for 4 months and being in a new country alone wasn't enough. It didn't really feel like study abroad. I have never been on this long of a vacation, but it still didn't feel like I would be here for that long. Everything seemed temporary. It seemed like at any moment I might be packing to head home, even though in my mind I knew that was wrong. Then classes started, and it finally started to sink in that this is just the beginning. I have known all along that I would be here for a semester, but now i KNOW it. I am only on my second day of classes, but just the slightest hint of a routine was enough to have it sink in. I am in Scotland for a whole semester (infinitely longer than a quarter) and it is just beginning. That thought made me energized, homesick, excited, nervous, eager, and hungry all at the same time. I didn't really have time to mentally prepare myself for coming over, and I am glad I didn't. When that whirlwind of thought and emotion hit me last night, it set the tone for the rest of my semester in a way that over analyzing it and planning would not have. I am ready now for a semester abroad full of adventure, tenacity, and change. When everything seemed temporary, it was hard to plan for anything. Something about starting classes legitimized study abroad. I think my life is about to get a lot busier.

My location remains as Scotland, UK

As most of the world knows, there was a recent vote to see if Scotland would remain a part of the UK. This referendum to secede failed several days ago, but I did not really know what to think about it immediately. Glasgow voted Yes on the referendum. As a result, Friday morning was eerily quiet walking through the streets. It was almost as if a mournful silence had fallen on the town. I have had the opportunity since then to speak to a number of people on both sides about their feelings on the past referendum. There was a range of opinions from disappointment to relief, but the most prominent feeling I found is that this is not over. The promises made in the 11th hour by the British have already faltered in some cases, and it would seem that the continued devolution of the country may or may not occur as said. This has renewed the fire in the Yes votes and some of the No as well. From the people I have spoken to, it would seem that even those who voted to keep Scotland as a part of the UK did so under the pretext that this is not the right time rather than that this is never a good idea. While I am sure the later exist, I have heard many voices discussing the future as one in which Scotland separates even from those who admit to voting No this time around. This may be in part from the bias inherent in living in a more liberal city, but I am not so sure. I traveled North this weekend to Lochness and Glencoe. Along the drive, we passed countless Yes signs. The referendum had failed, and yet people refuse to take down their signs. Sure in the US there are still people driving around with John Kerry bumper stickers, but this seems more purposeful. One woman told me that she was devastated by the result but was sure that "we will get it next time." I have thought about this for several days now, and I believe she is right. Maybe not about the next time, or the one after, but I believe eventually Scotland will secede. If there is one thing I have learned about the Scottish since I have been here, it is that they are proud. They are proud of their country, their successes, their failures, their history, and their future. I have known that ever since a Canadian was shut down quickly in a debate about which country can claim the invention of the phone. I have met so many kind and wonderful people in my time here, and each one of them is proud to their core of being Scottish. I don't know if I believe that now would have been a good time for the referendum to pass, but I do believe that a good time will present itself. I look forward to celebrating with them on that day.

egagheaidjerg and wet cheese

Before I left for Glasgow, I was told many times that I would not be able to understand anyone here for a while because Glasgow is supposed to have stronger Scottish accents than most towns. Even when I met people on the plane flying in, they warned me every time that I shouldn't worry if I can't understand people for a little while. So of course I felt extremely proud when during my first days, I understood everyone I talked to. Sure people had accents that forced me to pay attention, but I could always figure out what someone was trying to say. I was feeling pretty good about it. Then I went into the local Tesco (basically like a super target) to ask about getting a phone that would work in the UK. I literally only understood two words that the man I was talking to said, and those were "hello" when I walked up and "cheers" when I walked away. The rest of what he said was a garble. I mostly just looked at what he was pointing to, then panicked and said, "I will think about it, thanks" before walking away. He is still the only one that I couldn't understand any of what he said, but there have been a few moments that have made me pause since.
I was on a tour with number of other international students to see St Andrews and the Fife coast. Our tour guide was telling us an old story he had learned at a pub from an elderly man. The story was about witches and a husband and wife. However, it wasn't until the third or fourth time that he said witches that I knew what he was talking about. I thought the story was about how "wet cheese still exist." I got it eventually, and the story ended up being quite funny even without the wet cheese vs witches debate that myself and another girl had to have during the middle of it. That being said, even with the occasional confusion I love the accent. I think its charming and wonderful even if it is a bit hard for me to understand sometimes. But by now I can see why I had all of the warnings. Sometimes there is just no hope and you have to politely walk away.

A movie moment

In movies and stories it often seems like the writer doesn't know how to make two people meet, so it just happens casually at a restaurant or train station. But all of us normal humans know that doesn't happen in real life. This time it did.
I was out having lunch with a friend from school at a little coffee shop. We had finished our sandwiches and were looking at the pastries in the cabinet behind me. Between my friend and the pastries, there was an old man sitting directly in the way. She finally started to feel awkward about staring past him and explained to him that we were looking at the sweets not him. This led to a nice little conversation about what we wanted to eat, where we are from (the accent gives us away), and what we are studying at University of Glasgow. Turns out that we talked for about thirty minutes and by the end of it he had decided to take us under his wing. He gave us his phone number in case we had any problems during our time here, and he gave us the email of a friend of his who teaches at CU Boulder for when we get back to Colorado. Then as we were about to leave he told us he wanted to show us the best ice cream on the block. We followed him as he teetered down the street a ways with his cane. Once we reached the "best ice cream spot in town," he asked us when we would be free to meet him. We decided to meet the next afternoon for ice cream. When we showed up the following day, he was waiting for us. We sat for about an hour and chatted. He paid for our ice cream and gave us nice pens from his company. He has lived in Glasgow for almost all of his life with the exception of the war and a few months that he lived in California. He told us so much about the city and country that we would not have known about otherwise. And by the end of the ice cream he introduced us to a friend of his that walked in as his new American granddaughters. I am not quite sure how it happened, but I gained a Scottish grandfather just by eating a sandwich and having a sweet tooth.

Haggis

I knew at some point it would happen; I would have to try haggis. I wasn't looking forward to it. Turns out it came a lot sooner than I would have expected. I was handed a flyer on campus for a Haggis and Games night sponsored by one of the clubs on campus. Figuring I would just eat before hand and then play the games. Turns out it was a wonderful night for meeting people from all over the world. Around 100 people showed up. I was able to meet people from France, Italy, Germany, Nigeria, Australia, and of course Scotland. About thirty minutes into being crammed into a flat with all of us, the hosts began to pass out little bowls of haggis. It didn't look too bad. Everyone took their little bowl and poked at it a bit while we all looked around at each other. It was like no one wanted to try it first. I agreed to try a bite and share a bowl with one other person. It had the texture of refried beans mixed with ground beef, but it had a somewhat spicy additional flavor to it that didn't taste natural. It wasn't terrible. It wasn't great either. It got better though when a few minutes later the fire alarm went off. Trust me that burned haggis doesn't smell good, and I am sure it wouldn't taste good either. At least now for the rest of my time in the country, anytime I am offered haggis I can honestly say that I have tried it.

I will never unpack...

Luckily for me, the University of Glasgow offers a pick up option for the international students coming into the Glasgow Airport. All I had to do, was pick up my bags and find the overly energetic greeters in University of Glasgow T shirts who would help make sure I was able to get to my accommodation. They had a charter bus to transport us all, and the bus stopped at each of the different residences that the University offers. We then hopped off, grabbed bags, got our keys from the front desk and could go straight to our room. Easy cheesy. Except that right before I had left the US, I had volunteered for Habitat for Humanity with my wonderful group of Freshman for Orientation. As a result, I had somewhat hurt my wrist with a mild sprain and could not lift much. Even more unfortunately it was my right wrist. So ahead of me I had the challenge of walking down a flight of stairs then up two with a 50 lb suitcase, a duffel, a side bag, only my weaker left arm to help, and no one in sight to ask for assistance. The task was daunting to say the least, not to mention I do not lift so it would take me a while. Then suddenly, a voice rang out from above as some unidentified man said through a window "Hey you want any help with that?" And thank goodness he did. Turns out, he was actually going to be my flatmate. I was so relieved not only at the help getting my bags in, but that I would have at least one friendly person living with me. I stepped into my room and unpacked all of 2 things before decided I needed to go to the store before I could really accomplish much. I had no hangers and was beginning to get hungry. I walked to our kitchen to see what I needed to buy, and another of my flat mates was there. I introduced myself and we were talking for about a minute when a friend of mine from school walked in the door. Turns out he was good friends with my flat mate and they were about to make dinner. We chatted for a few minutes, but then I headed out to get what I needed. A quick ten minute walk to the store followed by a much slower and heavier ten minute walk home (remember the wrist) got me the essentials I needed. Then I dumped the bags in my room to unload my groceries in the kitchen. The guys were cleaning up from their dinner and told me they were about to head out. So, I decided oh well, I will unpack later and left with them.
The first place we went was showing the Germany vs Scotland football game (soccer to those of you stuck in the American lingo), and I can honestly say that watching the packed bar full of Scots was a fabulous first night out. Each eye was trained unwaveringly to the screen and the roars of anger and excitement happened unanimously at any change in the game. But all good things come to an end, and after the game ended the bar cleared out fairly fast. The new plan was to join another group of people at a different bar that was supposed to have live music every night. Turns out it was a group of almost entirely DU students. I know that I am a year older than most of the people studying abroad now, but I am still surprised to say that I did not know almost any of them. Everyone was happy to be meeting new people though, and the music was wonderful. Just a man with a guitar playing covers of hits old and new. And I am proud to say he was Alex of the Lockhearts; I hope that there is some relation there. Somehow even with the jet lag, I made it until about midnight before needing to bail out. My flatmate was ready to go though, so we walked back together. I walked into my room and remembered I hadn't unpacked. That could happen the next day.
Well needless to say it didn't. I didn't really start unpacking until the third day, and didn't actually finish unpacking enough to tuck my suitcase under the bed until tonight. Oh well, there were things to do, people to meet, and haggis to be had (but that's another story). All I can say is that I was glad to have such a warm welcome and a fun first few days, even if it meant I had to dig through my bag for ten minutes just to be able to brush my teeth.

"I love your accent"

I have always loved flying, although I am sure this is largely because of how well I can sleep on a plane. But after over eight hours of flying to get to Heathrow, being severely delayed for a reason never explained to me going through security, and fighting through people to get my bags all stowed away so that I could politely sit bag-less in my exit row, I couldn't wait for my last leg to Glasgow to take off. As usual, the moment the wheels left the ground I was able to fall into a fast sleep. I awoke later, just in time for the drink cart going through. I asked for a ginger ale and was ready to crack open my book when I heard something that I have so often said to others. "I love your accent; where are you from?" I looked up to see the flight attendant looking at me with a smile. Maybe I was just flattered that someone who to me had a beautiful accent had appreciated mine, or maybe I just was still half asleep, but for whatever reason I was completely stunned. We shared a few pleasantries about the US and Glasgow and how I should be prepared for the cold. The usual. But I was extremely distracted through it all. I have never been the one told I have an interesting accent. Even within the US, Colorado is not known for having much of an accent especially compared to the deep South or cities like Chicago. In all my travels to Australia, Spain, Mexico, Nicaragua, Denmark, and across different parts of the US I have never been complimented with that simple phrase that I so often tell the people I meet. It was the first moment that it really hit me that I would be somewhere that truly was foreign. Scotland is a modern society and the people speak my language (mostly), but it finally hit me that I had wonderful differences to look forward to for the next four months. I wasn't going to have to worry about finding clean water or trying to communicate with people who don't understand a word of English, but in my own little way I was going to be able to experience something different and learn about a different culture in a very personal way. And that thought alone formed a lasting smile.

The reason for the lateness-An intro to my blog

At this point I have been in Glasgow for 8 days. Having received wonderful advice from my brother a long time ago, I have learned that writing is a wonderful way to clear my thoughts. I have been keeping somewhat of a journal whenever I found something interesting enough to write about. However, I didn't realize until today that I probably should be willing to share these. Yes, blogging seems like an obvious choice especially considering the number of my peers who already have created them to chronicle their respective abroad experiences. But I had been writing for only myself. I have decided to type up what I had written before and to add to it whenever new moments of inspiration come my way. Just a bit of warning though, I will not promise that any of these posts will be grammatically correct, well written, frequent, or interesting. I promise only to share my experience as best I can when the opportunity presents itself.