Lately

Greetings!

It's a sunny Saturday morning here with blue skies! I've found the weather here lately has not been fall-ish, but simply a mix of summer and winter depending on the days. The last two weeks have been solely in the 50s and 60s all the time, with some days more summer-like (like today!) with constant sunshine and clear skies. Other days have brought wind, rain and clouds, and feel much more winter-y. I have yet to see any foliage, and am unsure if Scotland receives foliage, or what this country looks like in the autumn months.

Yesterday I didn't have class but for next weeks classes have loads of reading to complete. So far, I've enjoyed the individualistic approach to classes, with less class time and more reading/writing/challenging oneself outside of the classroom. While I'm sure it can vary from person to person, I've heard from Americans studying here (for four years) that the different academic system seems to prepare students more for the workplace, where there is less guidance and more individual thought and performance needed.

I have some overlapping in reading this week as both my classes have assigned the same passage of Virginia Woolf  to analyze (for the Virginia Woolf class, it's a much, much larger portion of reading with the similar passage included within). Both are searching for different themes, so I've been able to view the piece of writing a few different ways which has been interesting.

I've used the library computers which are very nice, and I immediately found they had similar log-in screens to the Saint Michael's library computers. The first few times I entered my Saint Michael's ID log-in out of habit. :) The keyboards, too, are a little different and took getting used to.

I was out visiting my friend Marissa last night which was nice, and have a few things planned for this weekend in between reading and writing. Enjoying the weather today is certainly on the list. :)

I know scones have become a repetitive theme in this blog, but I have one more scone post to fulfill. Yesterday, as a Friday afternoon treat, I purchased a blackberry scone (also known as "the mother of all scones!") from the cafe Gorgeous as a treat. I ate it later in the afternoon with some tea and raspberries once back at my residence.
 After completing photojournalism this past spring, I've really been interested more in photography. While I sadly had to return the giant Saint Michael's Canon camera I used for the spring, I think that nice pictures are possible to be taken on most any camera if skill and precision and proper placing is applied. I took some photos of yesterday's afternoon snack on my windowsill, I find food photography really difficult, but I've enjoyed experimenting with it!

My view from my seat in the library yesterday.

On my walk to Marissa's flat last night. I loved this field, so beautiful and calming, and rural, and Scottish, and look forward to returning in the daylight.

Sunshine, Class, and a Scone.

All is well here! Yesterday I enjoyed my creative writing workshop, a smaller group of seven students and our tutor (profesor), Jacob Polley. We were able to analyze a piece of literature, and tell about a peaceful place. I enjoyed a sunny walk over to the workshop, and when walking through St. Salvator's quad, where a large open green space sits in the center of various aging stone buildings which comprise different schools at the University. When walking through and reflecting, I found it hard to believe I'm actually here. The quad area where I was is so close to the ocean and just felt so naturally beautiful and the sun was immensely warm. Exiting the quad, I sat on a bench overlooking a similarly lush and green space closer to the ocean but closed off by high stone walls. The sun coming down was so warm and comfortable and felt like summertime. I took these photos:

I've continued reading and writing everyday, and despite the initial adjustment every year, am enjoying being back in the academic swing of things. Slowly, I've been reminded of, remembered, and readjusted to long hours reading, studying, re-reading notes, finding pens have run dry after extended use, early mornings, a variety of notebooks, and carrying books with me to every occassion possible if the off-chance arises to be able to read/study.

I enjoyed meeting up with my American friend Isaac for lunch today. We met at a live music event here a couple weeks ago. Isaac is from Chicago and attends UNC in Chapel Hill. We're both in the School of English here, it's been nice to meet another American who is also adjusting to the culture. While I've made a point to go out and meet several Brits, Scots, and other international students, it also can be somewhat challenging finding a group as the wonderful students of my own age who I've spent time with have been here for two years already. For the most part though, everyone is very friendly and it has been wonderful. :)

I began my Virginia Woolf class today which was quite nice. We're in the same classroom as my Creative Writing class. The tutor, J.D. Byatt is very  knowledgeable in literature, and while a bit intimidating, still very friendly. When calling attendence, he requested (as teachers often do in the initial class) students to respond with preferred names. As I forever feel the call to respond with, 'Liz, please!' during these calls, I was slightly unsure if I was brave enough to assert my preferred name, but as I found it was a rather common thing (as it occasionally is), I was happy to respond, 'Here! Liz would be great!' :)

Among a very quiet class of 19 students, out tutor lectured for the next hour and fifteen minutes a very fast-paced, straight-through - yet detailed and colorful - biography of Virginia Woolf - from the beginning to the (tragic) end. We all voraciously took pages of notes, trying to hear every detail, name, year, description, etc. While hectic and exhausting, I came out knowing more about Woolf, the time period, modernism, feminist literature, her works, etc. than any of my previous research has proved. As we'll need to complete one of her works each week, we also have been assigned to groups of five students who will dissect one large section of the novel we've read each week and present on it.

My group of four other girls was assigned the women and feminist literature section of Woolf's selected essays.

The grade for the course is made up of two essays (25% each) and one large exam in December comprised of two questions worth 50%.

It's been incredibly rainy, windy, and wet here today. Perhaps to make up for the lovely weather of yesterday. Tomorrow's outlook looks nice. I was able to break out my tall green rain boots from home I bought for Scotland today! 'Rain boots' here though, is an unused and unheard of term. 'Wellies' is used by all to described shoes worn in the rain. :) I also carried and used my umbrella much of the day. Something different I found here was that at entrances to buildings, today it was the school of English and the library, it's considered acceptable and advised to toss your wet umbrella onto the floor or atop a growing pile of dripping wet umbrellas at the door. I guess it protects floors from becoming wet, and gives large buildings a mud room-like feel. I'm headed out in a few minutes for a study abroad student social here. I would prefer to sit by a warm heater and begin some Virginia Woolf, but I know that this opportunity is here for one year and is incredible and deserves time off, too. Plus, it's important to remember (and try to transition to!) that students here work hard academically during the day, but use the evening as a social time.

Oh, and while not the best photo, here is what one might describe as 'The Mother of All Scones!' I've only tasted the blackberry, which usually sits on the shelf below the strawberry, pictured below.

In high school and at Saint Michael's I was usually the student that sat in the front of the room. Or, near the front. Or, just where I could make eye contact with the teacher/professor and think, "Yeah, they know I'm here, I'm listening, I'm involved." Before going into creative writing today, I imagined I'd be playing it cool and would sit towards the back, asking students around me, "Hey, this is Creative Writing, right?"

That didn't happen.

Upon arrival to the Kennedy Building where most English classes are held, a large mass of people waited outside the supposed classroom. We all were talking, and I recognized another American student I flew over with, a student from the Creative Writing club, and a few other familiar-looking students. Even our creative writing professor/my english advisor, Mr. Jacob Polley was among the loitering students. After a class filtered out of the room, the 20-25 of us all pushed our way into the room, all going for those front seats...I ended up towards the back, but first noticed that the room had gorgeously thick white crown molding all along the ceiling, and a large glass window that was split into two parts and connected by an iron latch. The window was opened widely and provided a light breeze and overlooked a lovely garden area. The classroom was unlike any I'd experienced before as it was so open to the outdoors and so lovely. Mr. Jacob Polley (I haven't heard professor used over here yet...) began by asking the class, "Who here has written a poem before?" "Has anyone ever written a story?" He was very reassuring and gentle in the introduction to the course, and I think made all of us feel like we were in the right place. It didn't feel to challenging, and just very natural. We were given time to write poetry and together suggested topics and subjects to write about. I was comfortable speaking and suggesting a few topics, and it felt like a very inclusive, enjoyable module. We were encouraged to read and write a variety everyday, and our first assignment will be a 2500 word creative non-fiction piece. I have a few ideas and hope to get some words down tonight. Something we all enjoyed was that Mr. Polley recommended having a nice notebook for creative writing, "preferably a Muppets notebook," he said, giving reasons ranging from not taking ourselves to seriously, to enjoying writing in the notebook. Towards the end of the course, Mr. Polley said, "If you have a journalism background, or a science background, this course might be challenging." Yikes. I think he remembers our advising session. However! I really am excited and feel ready. Journalism I developed slight skill with over time, but I don't know if that ever came completely natural to me, either. I feel as if I always craved a little bit more expression with it, and found each time I described a scene or something factual in news writing using several adjectives and senses, I either would cut it myself when editting or would wait for it to be cut by another editor or professor with hopes it could stay just this time. I have one other professor/tutor for the module named Meaghan Delahunt who is quite the novelist and currently is in her native Australia taking care of some business for a couple weeks. When she returns, both tutors will co-teach.

Speaking of journalism, the campus newspaper here is called The Saint, and has quite nice reviews and a large staff. My academic Mum Lizzie learned of my journalism background and submitted my name as (not an editor or writer, thankfully!) an American-politics-presidential-election-contributor/source for info during the race in November.

I met up with my Mum and Uncle and Dad for lunch today at my parents house (they're flatmates) and brought along some of my own homemade food and enjoyed a tasty lentil salad. It was nice seeing everyone and was really nice as my Uncle brought up much of the conflict in the Middle East and wanted to discuss it. Lizzie is an International Relations (likely the most popular concentration here) major and it was great hearing multiple viewpoints and really discussing it. While I don't know too much about the Middle East and the conflict, it was a wonderfully involved discussion and I found I knew a little bit more than I thought and was happy to engage in conversation about American and British interests there, and the future for the region, as well as the Democratic Republic of the Congo, (coming from Saint Michael's that was simple to discuss!) Algeria, and Al Qaeda controlled sections of Africa. It was informative too, hearing it from Henry's perspective (who's British) and both Lizzie and mine, as we both are Americans. Conversing with other students in the U.S. about world issues and foreign policy wasn't always possible. Certainly I had a group of friends at Saint Michael's that was very into it, but here it feels so easy and acceptable that everyone is eager to discuss anything and is aware of much of what is happening. One of the funniest moments of the lunch was when John (my Dad) went off to meet up with someone at another lunch location. I was telling a story about how I had been in there recently to buy a scone, and didn't like the scone too much. Instead, I mentioned the best scone I had ever had (!) at a cafe called Gorgeous in St. Andrews. Just as I mentioned the scone, Henry jumped in with, "The mother of all scones!" as he pulled out of a small white bag the same scone I had ate and was describing at that moment.

The kitchen situation is working out very nicely. I share with three guys who are sophomore medical students here (while St. Andrews does have a medical program for three years which students can enter beginning at 16 or 17, students must finish medical school in a location where a teaching hospital is present. The majority leave for Manchester, England, while other choose Edinburgh or Aberdeen). While one of my friends teased me that I would be the woman baking in our kitchen for the men, that has not and likely will not happen. :) Sometimes we eat meals together, and we all get along which is nice. One is from north of London, while the other two are from Hong Kong. When each of us has had people over too, we just respect that and usually don't stay in the kitchen or hang around much. Cheese and dairy are both very affordable here as both are quite local, while vegetables and fruit are about the same as the U.S. for prices and quality, but currently are quite affordable as it is the end of summer. I've found I've been eating a lot of sugar snap peas, brocolli and red and orange peppers here for vegetables. All have been delicious! Breads are easy to buy and are baked everywhere. Meat is quite expensive, I haven't bought any, but I've seen the prices, and believe it could be that Britain might have a little less factory-farming for meat than the U.S. does, and a bit less space for it.

I was with my friend Zoe last night, she comes from Yorkshire, and is very into tea and biscuits. Biscuits here are served for free all over the place at university events and are just sweet butter cookies, thin cookies, or sweet crackers. Ocasionally, chocolate chip or thick chocolate cookies fall under the 'biscuit' classification. The first several times I would hear "biscuits and tea over there!" shouted to loud groups of students my mind automatically belived that southern biscuits and gravy were being given away. When arriving to find cookies, I always had the urge to assert some terrible American values and yell, "Those are cookies!"

Thankfully, this never happened. Anyway. Back to Zoe. She was offering me a biscuit, and I was trying to explain to her in between our laughter about American biscuits. Searching google images for images of biscuits with Zoe, I had a feeling that google.co.uk (google in the U.K.) would prove Zoe correct and myself wrong for images of biscuits, but I tried anyway. Searching 'biscuits' in the U.K. brought dozens upon dozens of images of chocolate chip cookies, thin wafer cookies, sugar cokies, etc. We somehow then got on a discussion about pumpkin as lately I've been dreaming of my Aunt Lori's pumpkin whoopie pies and the pumpkin whoopie pies at my summer job, Cafe Indigo. Zoe could not believe that Americans ate pumpkin. In speaking with my academic Mum earlier today, she told me that she snuck a few cans of pumpkin from the U.S. in her suitcase for a homemade pumpkin pie to be made for her Thanksgiving party and assured me that pumpkin can be found on this island, likely in London.

I was talking to my lovely roommate from Saint Mchael's, Katie earlier today and she brought me back to thinking of my 'Ballroom Bunnies' calendar that was hung in our room this past spring semester. It was a funny Christmas gift from my Dad and I had forgotten until today that I brought it over here with me. When I arrived at St. Andrews, I was expecting a roommate for a few days and worried that hanging my Ballroom Bunnies calendar might creep out said roommate, and I would wait and see if she was the type of person who would be cool with it hanging in all it's bunny glory. As I soon learned I do not have a roommate, the Ballroom Bunnies sat forgotten in an empty suitcase in my closet. But today, that changed! The bunnies are happily dancing on my wall.

Speaking of rabbits, I found a field of them earlier. :)

Andrew Melville Hall is a residence near mine. It was built in the 1960's and praised as an architectual wonder of it's time depicting two ships passing in the night. Today, it's described as two sinking or crashing ships...

Every time I see these tall trees I feel like I go to college in Africa. I'm not sure why...

Irn-Bru is the most popular soda in Scotland. It's filled with far more chemicals than any other soda and is supposedly banned in the U.S. It looks quite a bit like orange soda, and I've heard it tastes like cotton candy....Unless I can take a single sip, I think I'll avoid it. 

Saint Michael's is everywhere here! Every time I see it though, it's on a dumpster. :(

The Old Course this afternoon.

The Ballroom Bunnies!

The bunz on my wall among other fun items. :)

Classes began today, and while I don't begin until Creative Writing tomorrow at 3 p.m. I still worked on some reading and ventured out to the library this morning. Entering the center of town, I should have known from the beginning I would later be lost to a rain storm. I left my now-dry umbrella from yesterday's rain hanging in my room, and wore a jacket with a hood. While I needed my sunglasses immediately upon stepping out of my residence, as I crossed an empty field of grass, gusts of wind brought me more steps forward than I intended to take. After giving myself a pat on the back for choosing to wear jeans today, I tried to remember if I had ever actually been blown in any direction before?
Once at the library, it was a chaotic scene of lines (no, nevermind, queues) everywhere and students milling in every direction. I flashed my student ID to enter through the electronic doors and decided to explore the second floor (called the 3rd level). Both the 3rd and 4th level (or second and third floors) are 'absolute silence' levels while the first level (called the 2nd) is nicknamed 'the playpen' and often contains talkative students. Upon entering the 3rd level, a large board with enormous painted white letters spelling S-I-L-E-N-C-E greeted me. I found a comfortable table spot and opened up The Granta Book of the American Short Story to finish reading the lengthy introduction. I stayed for a couple hours, and then decided to trek back to my residence to eat my lunch. Upon leaving the library, the sun was strong and my sunglasses were back out. I weaved through the streets of town and turned in the direction of my residence. Students and others were all around, and together we crossed streets, headed in the same direction, and wore similar iPods, until...storm clouds appeared (out of nowhere.) and light rain quickly became very, very heavy rain. I zipped my bag up to protect my books and notebooks and took the sunglasses off my head. The crowd soon became every man for himself  as we all ran in different directions. I sought shelter under a bunch of trees laced with leaves and hanging spider webs. I stayed for a few minutes but then decided it was time to proceed on. My jeans became glued to my legs for the remainder of the walk, but soon enough, I had arrived at my destination.

I spent the afternoon reading and doing laundry before deciding to begin my running career again this evening. While I've walked everywhere here, I haven't gone on a serious run in at least 2 weeks. I used to super struggle with jogging and would usually keel over in exhaustion and lack of breath, but this summer I reformed my running ways! I can go longer distances and enjoy the exercise much more. I got slightly lost today on my way towards West Sands beach and ended up on the golf course. I jogged along the perimeter of it, and then jogged through St. Andrews which was wonderful. In heading home, I decided to pick up some dinner, and was hoping to find some fish, as I had yet to try fish in St. Andrews. I've ate all homemade vegetarian meals thus far, and have loved the leftovers and extra meals I've made with the ingredients I've used, but was feeling like something different.

I had heard great things about Tailends, a fish take out restaurant from my academic family and upon finding the location, I ordered a single haddock fish cake. I was told salmon would have to do, and agreed to that. I paid for my single fish cake and was pumped to eat it when handed a small box. I headed home once again and made a salad and toasted some bread. I was confused when I opened the box to find two enormous salmon fish cakes. I ate one and saved the second for tomorrow and the salmon was so incredibly delicious. Mixed with potato, and breaded, the fish cake had vinegar and salt sprinkled on top and was so, so tasty and fresh.

Some more photos from my run tonight:

The Old Course.

A rainbow.

Much of this scenery reminds me of the coast of Maine. :)

 

Ohh, and I saw this recently on another blog. I really like it!

 

P.S. I learned recently from my Dad that my beloved bunny June has sadly passed away. June has been featured on this blog before, and while I don't think the photo below does justice to her sweet cuddlyness and the lovely companionship she's provided all of us with over the last seven years, it's the sole photo of her I have with me here on my laptop. It does, however provide a sweet headshot of June, and delivers justice to her regal personality. :)  

 

I did find one other, very Christmas-y. :)

 

 

A Family Event and a St. Andrew's Tradition

Last evening's (academic) family party was very fun! I was able to meet several siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles and of course saw many familiar faces. At one point, my Uncle Henry was commenting to me on how diverse a family we have. Many of us come from the U.S., I have a cousin from Bulgaria, and my brother was born in Zimbabwe! And as Henry said, "All corners of the U.K. are represented, except Northern Ireland and Wales...." However, the family is still growing. It was so fun and it's been a truly amazing week. I begin classes on Tuesday afternoon and lucked out this semester with a class on Tuesday, a class on Thursday, and a writing workshop on Wednesdays. The four-day weekend will hopefully allow me some time to travel, although I will need to work very hard in English and commit to a full work week of reading and writing throughout each day, and I will be challenged. However, spending time with my academic family was so funny and filled with so, so much laughter. I introduced to both my uncles the fist-bump/secret handshake my actual Uncle Kevin and I often exchange in greeting and hope it spreads to other Uncles in the U.K.! Below are a few photos of the party and some family members! :)

Myself and my wonderful Mum!

My mum and my Uncle Henry. They're both so great and continually keep me laughing with the funniest scenarios and stories.

Myself and my Uncle Marc.

My Aunt Jeannie and myself.

 

I do love it here so much. Just the last week has provided such a wonderful community of students and friends, and it's hard to believe I've been in Scotland for nearly two weeks.

 

After a late evening, I heard from my wonderful American friend Julie (who I first met at our airport gate in Boston) this morning asking me to join her on the weekly pier walk which takes place at St. Andrews every Sunday at 12 noon. Julie attends Tufts and we were roommates in Edinburgh for a few days when we first arrived. We are two of the very few staying for the year through our program, and it was wonderful to spend the week meeting other students, but then connect again a week later.

 

The pier walk weekly tradition honors a heroic student, John Honey who when a student at St. Andrews around 1800 witnessed a shipwreck in the St. Andrews bay. He swam out three times to the sinking ship each time bringing back survivors. On the fourth trip out though, he sadly drowned. Most students wear the traditional St. Andrews red gowns on the pier walk, although they are not required. I myself have chosen not to pay the 200 pounds ($325) for a gown, as they are not used for much else. Hundreds of years ago students were required to wear red gowns everywhere to be identified as students if one were to visit pubs or "houses of ill repute."

It was quite windy this morning when we set out from St. Salvator's quad in the mass of red robes. Neither Julie nor I wore one, but neither did several others. Quite a few postgraduates joined the hundreds participating as well and they typically wear black robes. Quite a few tourists and townspeople watched from the streets or down on the ocean, it felt a little bit like a graduation procession. The smell of fish and ocean was in the air (Side story: I was at the ocean with a group the other day, and the fish/ocean smell was very, very strong and sour. I walked past two elderly Scottish men just as one commented to the other in a very heavy accent, "It hasn't smelled good lately." The other commented, "It must be all of those freshers in town.") The pier was much longer than I imagined, and proceeding out on it, it was wide, but made of uneven cobblestones, and on one side, no barrier led to a stone pier cliff overlooking the ocean. It's quite the drop off and many of us who were new to the pier walk were keeping our distance from the edges. Upon reaching the end of the pier, Julie and I saw the first few in the massive line climbing an iron ladder to a higher level of the pier high above us on the left. With arms out on both sides for balance, students started to walk high above us in a single file line upon a very thin walkway of concrete headed back into town (not cobblestone, thankfully!)  overlooking the ocean with no barrier. The wind was quite a bit heavier and the thick red flannel gowns worn by those on the thin walkway began to fly high into the air like capes. Holding our breaths, Julie and I were both confused if the tradition involved the near-tightrope balancing act to return to St. Andrews as the rest of the pier walkers were all behind us and there would be little room to turn back the way we came, or if what we were witnessing were simply students taking risks in the wind.

As I (of course) struggled with the thought of climbing the iron ladder and doing the same, with the thought in my mind that I would catch a gust of wind and fly into the ocean far below, Julie was prepared! She moved closer as I slowly (again, of course) crawled farther and farther back.

Thankfully! A few official-looking men and a woman in a violet gown who I believe is Louise Richardson, the principal of the University (like the dean/president) appeared out of nowhere and shouted repeatedly to the hundreds gathered that the narrow walkway high above the ocean was optional, and that the wind did not make the walk extraordinarily safe today. We were directed where to join the crowd heading back by climbing stone steps to a wider cobblestone return walkway on the pier. As has happened every day here, large strands of my hair again flew out of their securement, and created visionary problems until I gathered all loose strands again. I've worn my hair up each day when outside as the wind tends to dominate.

I held Julie's paper cup of 'London fog' tea and cheered her on as she committed the balancing act in the single file of students in front of and behind her. As for my extreme caution, I would like to work up the courage to complete the narrow walkway. Perhaps not next Sunday or the following, but it is a wonderful tradition, and perhaps sometime this year.

 

I unfortunately had left my camera in my bag from the night before, and sadly walked without taking any pictures. However! Below are a few google images of the traditional walk. I did not photograph any of the images below.

 

From 1995.

The 'safer' trip back I took.

The narrow walkway is pictured at the very top left of the pier. This image shows students walking out to the pier from the town.

A nice painting depicting the walk and the view of the town from high above the pier. The view of the chapel ruins from the pier does look very much like this image though. Despite the wind, it was a gorgeous period of sun when out on the pier. 

 

Once back on solid land, the thick snake-like procession of bright crimson robes ahead split off into every which direction into town. Julie and I entered the chapel ruins (pictured above on the cartoonish image of the two towers connected) which today is a large cemetary between ruins of Scotland's once largest Catholic cathedral. The cathedral was built in 1150 (whoa.) and today only small parts are left standing. Examining the tombstones was very cool but many were no longer legible as all writing had faded away. Some of the earlies we saw dated to the eighteenth and the nineteenth centuries, and resembled tombstones found in some of Boston's oldest cemetaries.

While I cannot say that I saw anything, supposedly the relics of Saint Andrew are buried in the cathedral cemetary. Legend varies, but supposedly they were brought to the Saint Andrew cathedral through divine guidance. Saint Andrew is the patron saint of Scotland and he lived and died in the first century. According to more legend, Saint Andrew, a Christian apostle was martyred on a cross in the shape of an 'x.' Supposedly in a battle for possesion of Scotland in 832 A.D. Oengus II (the future king of Scotland) prayed to Saint Andrew for success in battle and promised to make Saint Andrew the patron saint of Scotland if victory was achieved. An 'x' appeared in the sky the morning of the battle, and the victory was achieved for Oengus II who then became king of Scotland. Today, Scotland's flag is a white 'x' set against a medium blue backdrop.

We explored more of the town, ate a tasty lunch of lentil/squash soup and a cheese toastie (a grilled cheese sandwich) at a coffee shop and headed back to our residences.

The Middle East and poetry

After a crucial and very sad week for American efforts in the Middle East, I wanted to share this poignant photo essay I came across through the Interfaith Youth Core. After the tragic death of the U.S. Ambassador to Libya Chris Stevens, it is far too easy to blame Islam, Muslims, and Middle Eastern Nations as a whole. It is so terribly wrong though, and few things anger me more than hate among religions and individuals believing and preaching that an entire religion is to blame for the conflict. In the eleven years since 9/11, Muslims continue to be targetted and blamed for an act that extremists committed. I've witnessed this blame occur, and find it to be extraordinarily hate-filled and incorrect.

http://www.buzzfeed.com/jtes/12-photos-of-benghazi-citizens-apologizing-to-amer

It's unbelievably tragic that violence continues to spread throughout the Middle East, I see so much misunderstanding in the conflict, so much confusion and oppression by government and society in revealed through war and protests.

Perhaps the inclusion and acceptance of religions many of us dream of will not occur in the next decade, half-century or century. Perhaps never in our lifetime. Perhaps this war on terrorism supported by a request for democracy from Middle Eastern nations between drone strikes brings an issue that is so much larger than any of us.

The terribly insulting video made by an extremist American denigrating the prophet Muhammad is just as angering and disgusting, and brings fuel to the fire. Just as select Americans target Muslims, select Muslims target Americans.

It's difficult to imagine what will happen. While I have no experience in International Relations, I wonder if leaving Middle Eastern nations entirely to govern themselves at such a crucial point is best? It;s so challenging to see though. While the lives of American service men and women would undoubetdly be saved, innocent families and individuals of Middle Eastern nations would certainly be killed, and our own safety and security could be at risk.

It becomes far too easy to turn a blind eye. Clearly, I don't know myself how to feel or how to view it. The injustices that remain live strongly everywhere though, and become topics we barely can discuss in pleasant company or politeness. Conflict continues to prevail as together we fear discussion, information and education about our outside world.

As I've said before, I know this blog is mainly a Scotland/St. Andrews/travel-like blog, and I hope it doesn't anger anyone or bring controversy, everything above is obviously my own opinion and how I view the conflict.

In other news, I was able to explore the department of English more yesterday and pick up a few of my books. I began reading sections of an enormous short story collection I'll need for creative writing, and have been working more towards my own poetry and creative writing. Often, imagination and word choices that interest me are all I need to begin. Much of what I write focuses on nature, New England, seasons, and summer turning to winter, life to death, and light to darkness. I often find a lot of symbolism and sometimes what I write can provide explanations I don't know if I naturally write depressing words, or if I just enjoy the change of season and life through words and descriptions. I try to follow the 'Write what you know' rule.

While I tend to be extraordinarily guarded and uncomfortable with every piece of creative writing I do, (maybe because unlike journalism it brings forth so much about you? It feels too revealing...) I know I need to change that! Especially as I'll be doing a lot of it this semester and need to seek improvement and constructive criticism. A few tiny chunks of things I've written in the last year are below.

Lit by the dark summer skies, I've danced with towering pines in July and trekked through half-shoveled snow to the branches of birches, folded over beneath a thick layer of ice in December.

Purple sunsets in August and bright mornings in May, I know the deer, the bear, and the bumps of the backroads.

I've worn deep red fleeces and coats in October, gathered crunchy leaves, and let my fingers ache for wool to warm them.


Deep within a field of poppies, a thistle's majesty bestows.
Alone amid deep golden bursts, originality creates its own.
Gone are the days of blinding light,
come slowly creeping navy skies.
Out beyond a forests width lie dying clover, rose and mint,
Snow settles blindly upon the moss, few stars can illuminate the night.

 The School of English.

The experience of a ceilidh

Today has been wonderful. I was able to do a few more things around town, purchase a few books, and spent much more time with my (academic) family. Because classes do not start until Monday, everything here has been so incredibly carefree, relaxing, and fun. I attended the Catholic Society's coastal path walk this morning, and experienced a beautiful and vigourous walk along light sandy beaches, across wooden bridges, through fields of fluffy violet flowers, and down slippery rocks made smooth by the ocean. Unfortuantely, I had forgotten my camera. The day was very grey all of today, continually on the verge of rain.

While St. Andrews is four times the size of St. Michael's, because the town is so small, students still continue to run into those they know often. I spotted my (academic) Dad in town at one point, and a few hours later, my Dad, uncle, brother Hugo, and cousin Hugo together. The academic family system continues to be wonderful. Upon my Uncle spotting me, he immediately introduced me to my cousin and brother, and the five of us were off on a tour of St. Andrews. Both my Dad and Uncle introduced us to new places, supplied us with a student card providing us with discounts, gave us information on the best restaurants and food choices, and brought us all to my Uncle's flat for more discussions and a homemade cake with jam. My Dad, Uncle, cousin, and brother are all English, and words such as "rubbish" were used so often. My mum (my Uncle's girlfriend - (ha ha ha I know it's confusing...))showed up later. It was great getting to know the Hugos today, who are both freshers.

This evening was exciting as I attended my first ceilidh (pronounced Cay-Lee)! It was amazing! I journeyed over to the very far part of town with my wonderful friend Zoe, who is quite the experienced ceilidh dancer. This particular ceilidh benefitted a village in Malawi. It cost three pounds to attend. I wore black leggings, thin, flat black shoes and a short, flowy burgundy dress. We arrived and I felt quite a bit like I was wearing a Petit Papillon costume from my ballet days, but rather, I was simply prepared for the ceilidh! Male students started arriving in kilts, and while many wore pants, just as many men wore kilts. Over 100 of us were in attendence, and the event began!

Quite a bit like Irish step or Scottish dancing, three musicians including an accordian player and two fiddle players played live music for us on stage and everything was so fast. I was asked to dance by a lovely Scottish student and together we were quickly twirling and waltzing. I stepped on a few people and nearly slipped a few times, but hung on to my partner Louis, and quickly was dancing away. The three-hour marathon ceilidh had just begun! My next partner, Chris, was much more strict in his ceilidh ways and with his ceilidh partners. He wore a taditional kilt, complete with hanging chains, a few belts, high socks dripping with ribbons, lace-up black leather shoes, and a long sleeve white shirt. He was quite skilled in our next dance which involved more waltzing and shoulder contact. After telling me the hall I live in was "the scum of St. Andrews," :( (by the way, not true! I live in one of the newest halls) he corrected a few too many partners around us, and it was time to find a new partner for the following dances. Together, we all participated in several group dances with elbow-swinging, more waltzing, twirling, flying skirts and kilts, and heavy shoes hitting the wooden floor boards. It became quite the exercise! The music was all lovely, and occasionally, one of the fiddle players, a very elderly Scottish gentleman would walk around the couples and reposition people or offer ceilidh advice.

In choosing a partner, often the kilted men knew quite a bit about ceilidhs, but a great many dancers were so dripping with sweat that it was important to choose a partner wisely. After four or five different kilted and non-kilted dance partners, I found my best partner yet, Connor! He had such an extremely heavy rural Scottish accent that I didn't understand half of what he said, but he was a wonderful dance partner! He wore a kilt and a lace-up long-sleeve white shirt which was laced with a leather string. I thought he looked quite Medieval/Norwegian/Vikingish. We participated in several group dances together involving clapping and dancing down long lines of people, continually swinging and waltzing with one another. After another hour, the ceilidh slowly came to an end. All 100+ of us sang Auld Lang Syne in 75 different keys, and then, the largest surprise of the evening occurred with the most vigourous and fast-paced dance yet. All couples waltzed extremely quickly and forcefully around the rectangular room in any direction they wished. It became a loud, hectic, fantastic rush of couples and legs turning in every way. Connor and I continually changed directions, and the short freestyle-like dance involved serious clinging to your partner for fear of flying away and being trampled. I found my feet were more off the ground then they were on the ground and every skirt/dress/kilt was incredibly high in the air! It was euphoric and amazing and so full of energy and life. I couldn't stop smiling and laughing just at how fun and traditionally Scottish it all was. My feet were sore, but it was so incredible and such a wonderful experience. Luckily for me, ceilidhs occur at least twice a week here!