My First Week (or so) in Stirling

Thanks to all who harassed me about writing my next post ASAP – I’m ready to reveal Chapter 2. We begin with my arrival at the University of Stirling by shuttle from the airport in Edinburgh. Here are a few pics I took on the ride to campus:

MY FIRST DAY/NIGHT ON CAMPUS – KIND OF FREAKED OUT

They let us off by the residences, and for the first time since being abroad, I was all alone! That made me a little uneasy, but the Stirling student who showed me to my flat (I later discovered he’s the president of the LGBT student group here) was really nice, so that calmed me down a little. When we walked into the hallway of the flat, I was like, OK, so this is a hallway with doors that LEAD to all of the flats on this floor. Nope. The hallway WAS my flat, and the doors were to the bedrooms. It kind of looks like a prison on the inside, and I’ve heard Muirhead is one of the worst residences on campus, but whatcha gonna do? I could go on a rant about how international students at any university are under a special kind of stress and therefore should be given as much special consideration as possible, but A) I’ll manage to come off as a typical American who thinks he’s entitled to more than the average world inhabitant, or B) No one reading this gives a fuck, and I can certainly understand why. It appeared that only one of my four flatmates had arrived, but he wasn’t actually around at the time. I was pretty exhausted by that point and crashed after pseudo-unpacking, reflecting on my brief period of loneliness, and taking a shower. On a positive note, the water pressure was outstanding (and has remained that way).

I woke up, and it was dark out – again, no one was in the flat. I found myself in a better mood, so I decided to walk to the student union. I had to work my way through many loud, drunk Scots, then I crossed the bridge over Airthrey Loch – I recall being satisfied that this campus had a lake and bridge -- and had coffee and chips (actual potato chips, which they call crisps here. Chips in Britain = French fries. Confused yet?). In dire need of human contact – sober humans – I called my mom and dad. Talking to them gave me a boost – they laughed at my various misfortunes, which by that point included:

1) Not meeting any of my roommates yet while being surrounded by happy drunks frolicking about the campus. A major drain on my confidence.
2) Being too shy to approach anyone. Drained confidence, remember?
3) Having chips with coffee as my accompanying beverage because I couldn’t figure out the vending machine and thought I was getting juice – it’s amazing that in another English-speaking country, I could still manage to be deeply confused by my surroundings 88% of the time. No prob, though – I love washing down potato chips with hot vending machine coffee! Why don’t more people do that?
4) Not understanding the shower and fiddling with it for about five minutes. Then, after figuring it out, burning my hand on a 6000° piece of metal that I have NEVER seen in American showers. It was at this point that I announced, in a serious tone while standing naked in the shower, that I hated Scotland. It was just a little moment! Adjusting is key.

I will say that I had two encounters with friendly/drunk Scots that night that made me pretty happy. An attractive (insignificant detail, but why not note it?) drunk guy named Joe stumbled over to me, and we talked about the Killers (I was upfront about only knowing the hits, so I’m sure I disappointed him), me being from America, and how to find the student union. He was so nice! As were his two friends who eventually made their way over to us. And his drunken Scottish slur made me laugh. THEN, on my way back across the bridge, an extra-sloshed guy in a kilt tried to tear his shirt off in a bizarre 2-second fit of rage that immediately switched to seemingly perfect happiness. Naturally, he approached me as I walked by him in the most pathetically timid fashion. Presumably, Highlanders can smell fear. He told me he could “sense” that I was American – well done – and we walked together for a while. I think he knew of Chicago – then he proclaimed to a group of onlookers that I was an American, which elicited several “oohs” and “aahs” that I assumed were sarcastic. Except for the fact that one of the girls in the crowd actually did start asking real questions about where I was from in the U.S. and what it felt like to be here, so that was kind of nice. INTERACTION WITH SCOTTISH PEOPLE! A good end to my first night in Stirling.

** Perfect Scotland moment: I recall walking back to my flat after getting something to drink at the union either this first night or one of the following nights, and it was so late that it was starting to turn light outside. I was walking on the bridge over the loch – not a single person in sight – and I could see the towering Ochil Hills that form the northern border of the campus. They really look big enough to be mountains. All I could think was, Wow, I’m actually in Scotland. It truly hit me then.

THE NEXT DAY – MEETING THE FLATMATES

When I woke up the next day – pretty sure it was fairly late in the afternoon -- I could hear two of my flatmates conversing outside of my room. Finally, people were here! But I got kind of shy and waited until I didn’t hear them anymore -- I can be a real go-getter sometimes, eh? Then I walked over to the union and did some exploring. When I realized it was time to face my flatmates, I headed back over to Muirhead, and all four of them were standing in the hallway when I walked through the door. Actually, I saw five people and wondered which person wasn’t living with me. Of course, that person was the only girl standing there, even though I requested co-ed accommodation because it would make me feel a fuck of a lot more comfortable (it’s a far better dynamic than all guys, in my opinion). Nahh – why should anything go as I requested? I said something super-suave like, “Hey, I’m the fifth one!” Best response ever: all four of the guys just kept standing there and looking at me. Fuck this. So I shake their hands and don’t remember anyone’s name because I’m pretty flustered over the fact that in addition to no Internet access, I was left with four guys, three of whom as it turns out were best friends from last year, while the other one is from Alaska and planned to live with another guy who I apparently replaced. The girl turns out to be dating one of the flatmates. When I shook her hand, she said, “Oh, I’m not living here. This is the guys’ flat.” Ugh – so I’m basically living with a bunch of British frat guys who are best friends. The Alaskan is a big cup of “meh.” I suppose it could be argued that the accommodation office staff have a sense of humor.

BUT, they did ask me if I wanted to go out with them that night, and so that made me kind of happy – happy enough to have a pro-flatmates moodswing. Before I knew it, I was at Studio, the main bar on campus, with my four homeboys. The three British flatmates were quite generous and bought Zach and me several rounds. Jack (or SoCo) and lemonade is apparently their drink of choice. We also danced at Glow, the club beneath Studio. Then they took us to some bar/club on the edge of campus, where we danced in an embarrassing all-guy circle. It makes me blush to think of it, but I suppose it was a bonding experience. I thought it was cute that they seemed genuinely interested in making sure that Zach and I had a good time. I ended up walking back to our flat with the two Scottish roomies (the third Brit is an Englishman), but one of them threw the other to the ground, followed by a verbal exchange that was delightfully awkward to watch. Typical hot-headed Scots! I headed back with the one who was put in the headlock, and I asked him how the Scottish people view America. He said our president seems “kind of mental” but that he thinks the war is a good thing because “these innocent people are getting killed by terrorists – it’s not right,” or something like that. As it turns out, he is definitely in the minority of Scots when it comes to the Iraq war. I think he also said something negative about “all these Pakistanis,” but I could be wrong. Overall, I had a pretty fun night with them.

THE REST OF THE FIRST WEEK

** Monday was more of me settling in, figuring out more stuff about the campus, and getting in touch with people back home. I had to wait a few hours to get my ID card at the sports center. I walked over there with Zach the Alaskan, so at least I had company. This is where I first met Lindsay, who is one of my favorite people here. She’s Canadian and lives fairly close to Toronto. We sat together at the orientation for international students later that day, and I discovered that she’s an environmentalist, which is pretty sexy. She also thought my veggie burger looked good, but I have to say it tasted frighteningly similar to fish. I went for my first run that evening – Stirling University is a perfect campus for the long-distance runner, with lots of different paths to keep it fresh.

** Tuesday night I decided to be brave and ride the bus into the “town” area of Stirling (the campus is kind of in its own little area) so that I could buy some groceries at Tesco. I introduced myself to the girl setting next to me at the bus stop and asked her how to get to Tesco, and we ended up becoming friends! Her name is Emily, and she’s one of my two favorite Scottish students on campus. All from me saying “hi” at the bus stop – she ended up inviting me along to a get-together at her friend Louise’s flat in town, and I had a lot of fun talking to them and the other guests, walking around town briefly, and listening to Scottish bands. Louise served us tea – my first tea in Scotland what what! – followed by a few Mojitos. Emily and I walked back to campus, which takes about 40 minutes, but it was fun talking to her as we made our way back. She’s from Glasgow – Scotland’s largest city and its focal point of commerce, business, industry, media and transport, according to Wikipedia – which makes her a Glaswegian. I like the sound of that. She intends to give me a proper introduction to Glasgow one weekend when we’re both free.

** Wednesday was bizarre. I think I missed most of it because I stayed up really, really late (still wasn’t on a Scotland schedule) on Tuesday night. I remember still being awake when the clubs/societies fair was going on, which was during the afternoon, so yeah, my sleeping patterns were kind of ridiculous, and I think I woke up sometime late in the evening after passing out in my room. But not before someone at the clubs/societies fair convinced me to join the Labour Party for a pound. I don’t know why I did this, except that I think I like Tony Blair, the girl working the table was really charismatic and I didn’t want to let her down, and I figured Labour was the equivalent of the Democratic Party. Current British politics is more complicated than that, I’ve learned.

** Thursday! The most exciting activity was going to the LGBT organization’s first meeting. I was quite nervous, but I figured I might meet someone cool there, so I got over my social anxiety and just went for it. Dale, the president and the guy who helped me find my flat when I first got to campus, spotted me and said hello. I think I had a cup of wine. I met a friendly lesbian – not always an easy task, with all due respect – and I met David, who is a Socialist Party activist and my other favorite Scottish person here. The whole group went out for drinks at Studio, where we proceeded to play “Never have I ever…” You know, the game where someone says something he or she has never done, and if you’ve done it, you have to take a drink. At one point during the game, David turned to me and said, “Wow, you’ve led an interesting life.” Hmph. We went for a walk around campus and learned more about each other – he’s very smart, politically aware, and he knows WAY more about American culture than I would have expected. We spotted a hedgehog on campus – this particular hedgehog managed to be so ugly that it was cute. After that, we went to the computer lab because he wanted to see pictures of the U of I campus, which he liked quite a bit, then we parted ways – but not before I introduced him to Political Wire and Daily Kos, my two favorite websites for American political news.

** Friday: eh, again, totally off because I ended up staying up REALLY late the night before. I missed the environmental/social justice hippie group’s BBQ that I was going to go to because I slept through it – I slept from 2-11 p.m., as a matter of fact. That also meant that I didn’t meet up with David and Emily, which I was supposed to do. I woke up in a daze at 11 p.m., then I couldn’t freaking sleep all night/morning. I blame this ridiculous failure to adjust to the time difference on the fact that by that point, I hadn’t had an alarm clock yet. I fried my American one right away, sadly.

** Saturday was the hike up Dumyat. Some good conversations along the hike were had, and the picnic at the summit felt relaxing. It was a whole lotta soggy and an awful lot of foggy, and you had to hopscotch to avoid sheep shit, but the fact that sheep were roaming around us in the first place made it all worth it. This is where I met Yvonne for the first time -- she's from Boston and easily my favorite American here. We're in love now, but we just kind of shot the shit on this first encounter. Here are some pics from the hike, most stolen from friends who are superior photographers. The second to last pair are of the summit (you may be able to spot the miniature blue and white Scottish flag hanging on that bin thing) and of Regena and me after the hike. The last pair are photographs taken by Lindsay and Regena of Dumyat from the Stirling campus. I'll end it there for now -- more to come much sooner than the length of time you had to wait for this one. I promise. I'll just make them mostly photo essays. I miss you all!

Let's get ready to rumble.

Family, friends, co-workers, acquaintances, and others (perhaps):

Welcome! I've been in Scotland since last Friday, and I've been told that it's time to get this thing rolling. This blog will cover my journeys as a student at the University of Stirling in Scotland for the fall 2006 semester... oh yeah, and what appears to be a three-week vacation break after finals (in addition to the week-long fall break in October -- delicious). But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Since a lot of this initial entry is coming from the journal I've been carrying around for the past week, and I've had a lot of "I need to write about this!" moments over that time period, it might be a bit on the lengthy side, and it will probably be more text-heavy than future entries. Feel free to skim over it as you please -- or, if you actually care about me, you'll celebrate every freaking word. Eh... do what you will.

BUT BE SURE TO LEAVE COMMENTS! It will be more fun that way. An interactive blog where I can leave responses to your comments is way better than me just posting every now and then. You don't have to own a Blogger account -- just do a non-user comment and there is still a place where you can enter your name. I'd love to hear from you.

NOW, here's the Scottish scoop:


Chapter 1: Transatlanticism and a Brief Stay in Edinburgh

After a ton of help from my amazing mother who helped me pack and drove me to the airport in St. Louis, I was finally ready for my flight to Chicago. We left the house in Belleville a little bit later than expected, since I was kind of freaking out about the possibility of forgetting something and decided to roam through parts of the house one last time after getting all of my music in order. I think my mom almost cut my life short -- once we were in the car, she announced that I have a problem with time management and that "it's wrong to do this to people" -- in this case, and in pretty much any case I can ever think of, "people" meant her. While I agree that I can be slow-moving at times, I thought I deserved a break this time since I was leaving the continent for the first time ever, and I was also kind of terrified about the idea of not having everything with me. We eventually laughed at this dramatic outburst -- thank God we can do that, and usually within minutes of the incident -- and she spent the second half of the ride providing me with kind words and advice about being so far away from home. After a brief but emotional goodbye, I eventually boarded the plane, and BAM... I met up with Regena and Dian, my travel buddies, at O'Hare for our flight to Dublin. They're both from the University of Illinois -- Regena is also studying at the University of Stirling, but she'll be there for the whole academic year, and Dian is studying in Aberdeen (NE Scotland) but decided to hang out with us in Edinburgh before heading there.

The three of us didn't get to sit together on the flight across the ocean, but I think it worked out for the best because I got to sit with a wonderful middle-aged woman who travels to Ireland (and Britain in general) regularly and who also looks like she should work at Jan's Hallmark. Stacey, if you're reading this, she kind of looks like Edna and basically acts the same way, so I fell in love. She's a nurse, and she told me she's sick of all this crazy talk about the ever-climbing retirement age -- who cares if we're still "feeling good" at 70? She said that her brother died around the age of 64 and that she's not going to spend the twilight of her life being employed, because there is a lot more that she wants to do. Unless your job allows you an unusual sense of freedom or you just absolutely love working, then I'd have to agree with her approach to life -- provided that you have the means (and I know that many people don't, which is depressing). Because you never fucking know what's gonna happen. It was a reaffirming conversation, given the way I've chosen to spend the next four months.

I called Brian before I boarded the plane at O'Hare. I think staying together was the right decision, but it's obviously going to make me miss him more. The upside is that I'm going to be missed a lot in return, and that can be a wonderful feeling. Also, the odds of him flying out to Europe to travel with me over winter break appear to be increasing. But I'm trying to stay focused on what I'm experiencing now. A grand finale, if it does happen, is still months away. Until then, Gmail chats and random phone calls will have to suffice.

Back to the flight! I couldn't get enough of the flight attendants, seriously. I'm pretty sure they were all Irish (maybe one or two Scots in there), and their accents made me giddy about the fact that I would be in Europe in a matter of hours. We arrived at the airport in Dublin, and I was still grinning after every Irish voice I heard until we boarded the plane for Edinburgh. Doesn't that sound a little obnoxious? Very tourist-y, at least. During that time, I also beat Regena and Dian in a game of Egyptian Ratscrew and 2 out of 3 games of crazy eights, and we got excited about foreign currency and brand names of candy that we didn't recognize. Oh, and this:

If you look carefully, you can see that the men's restroom signs say "Gents," not "Gentlemen." For some reason, this slightly different approach to bathroom signs was fascinating to us. However, I'm not convinced that you'll see it in this photo, as the camera flash decided to form a coalition with my greasy hair and hook nose to keep you distracted.

After getting to Edinburgh, we walked with our ridiculously heavy luggage to the hostel, which was pretty nice (although I have no standard of comparison). Here's a picture that Regena took from the hostel window (I was being lazy with my camera):

We showered and did our own thing for a while, and there was a friendly guy staying in my room who showed me the kilt he had purchased -- I think he was from Eastern Europe. Then I left the hostel with Regena and Dian to explore Edinburgh, which became one of my very favorite cities in a matter of hours. It's amazing! There are so many medieval-style buildings, especially in the Old Town section (a surprising correlation, I know). We walked by the National Gallery of Scotland and Edinburgh Castle. This castle sits atop the basalt core of an extinct volcano, and it is awe-inspiring to gaze up at the fortress from the streets of the city. I can't wait to go back for a tour, in addition to seeing more of the Royal Mile (a stretch of four ancient streets which, according to my Scotland book, formed "the main thoroughfare of medieval Edinburgh," with the castle on one end). Here are some pictures of the castle from Regena's camera:

And here are a few good shots that I found online (compliments of Electric Scotland at www.electricscotland.com):

And one final shot of Edinburgh from Regena's camera:

Then I called my dad from a payphone to tell him that I was alive and well in the land of the Scots, and we ate dinner at a bar on a really cool winding back street. I had my first drink abroad -- Guinness, which kind of just reminds me of a liquid version of smoked sausage. Six bucks -- awesome. Then we walked back to the hostel, where I talked to a really friendly traveler in my room named James, who hails from the Detroit area and just left a five-year stint in the health care industry. We talked about the politics within the health care industry and his experiences traveling through Scotland. Then I called Brian, who offered me a wonderful break, albeit brief, from the feeling of being so far away from my loved ones. I should note that sharing one room with nine strangers wasn't actually that bad, but I did find myself a little paranoid about my belongings. You basically just have to have faith in the goodness of others, which is a warm, fuzzy experience -- when no shit ends up going down. ;)

Well, kiddies, there's definitely more to tell, but it's really late here, and this post already took an insane amount of time.

NEXT UP: My arrival at the University of Stirling and my general impressions of campus life thus far (I'm still adjusting). Stay tuned!