live. move. be.

This week has been a little stressful, to say the least. I have a feeling next week will be this level of stress times about 20. Apparently in the Scottish university system (at least for English majors) your entire grade for each class is based on one paper. One paper! There's no grade for attendance, no quizes, no tests, no small papers.....just giant-comparative literature-heavily researched-essay. As I began to try and figure out how one even writes an English paper in Scotland, I asked my fellow students whether I should use APA or MLA citation style. They looked at me as though I was speaking some other language. For some reason I had assumed these styles were somewhat universal, but apparently not at all. So even figuring out how to write a paper is a huge challenge. If you have not yet listened to The Swell Season (aka Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova) or watched the movie Once, then do that. It is so, so beautiful.

3) In my Bible study group this week (for which I am immensely thankful....these Scottish girls are so lively and wonderful), we happened to be discussing this verse:

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid" (John 14:27)

And that's enough.

Germany tomorrow....

Last night I got a really rare treat: an ENJOYABLE show happened to be on our little television. We get five basic channels which are all pretty much rubbish, 24/7. Last night was a rare exception! You might have heard of Jamie Oliver...he's a young English chef who has gotten pretty popular in the States. He's doing sort of a cooking documentary tour of America, trying out the local cuisines of different parts of the country. It's pretty interesting to look at my own homeland from the perspective of a Brit, while watching the show in Scotland.

Last night he was somewhere out West (I never caught the state), discovering authentic cowboy food. He attended a rodeo and lived out in the mountains with real cow-ranchers for a week, and along the way cooked things like huge slabs of beef and homemade baked beans in little Dutch Ovens (cast iron pots that are set in or over a campfire, then covered with coals and left for hours to cook), or cooking a steak on a stick in the fire out on the trail, the way one might roast a marshmallow for a s'more. Oh how I wanted ALL of that food. I can't even tell you. I would kill for a good steak or some smoky barbecue these days.

Along the same lines of nostalgic Americana, I've also been listening to a lot of bluegrass and old-fashioned country today, and it's all made me think that this is one of the most unique and wonderful things about the U.S. So much of much of American culture has shaped and influenced Europe (not always in good ways) and the lines between them often feel blurred....but I think one of the things that remains really wholly American is the mythic (often romanticized) old wild West and all the legacy of music, food, storytelling and pioneering spirit that goes with it.

I think one of the really exciting things about being abroad is that it makes you look at your own country and culture from so many new perspectives. Even living here with an American from another part of the country makes us realize that so many of the things we take for granted about "American" life are really just native to our own little region of the country. Sometimes when we try to explain our country over here, we find ourselves saying completely opposite things! We are also quite used to the Scots and the Europeans bringing up every stereotype of Americans as loud, fat, lazy, uncultured and stupid....and most of the time, we just laugh and admit that a lot of the negative images are largely based in truth. A few weeks ago one of my German friends asked me what the English word is for someone who is highly uncultured. I replied, "You mean an American?" and he promptly died laughing.

Anyway, all this to say, sometimes I feel homesick not just for my family or my friends, but for my homeland, in all its complexity. I recognize its flaws (massive ones), but I also see the things that make it great. Back in the States, I often tend more towards complaining about the things I dislike about my culture....but here, I realize all the wonderful things I miss about it, too.

Yesterday I handed my professor a mandatory form for international students to arrange early assessment.

I began, "So I'm a visiting student from America..."

He replied, with no trace of feeling in his voice, "Yes, well that's quite clear." He then stared blankly at me. "So what do you want me to do about it?"

Thank you, kind man, for making me so very welcome in your class. It gives me such a nice, warm fuzzy feeling.

First of all, I want to say thank you to my sweet friends for commenting on my last post and giving me such rich encouragement. Really and truly, it means the so much to me.

Secondly....LONDON! I went back this weekend because one of my best friends from high school (and former roommate in college) was going to be there for a week for school, and we just couldn't resist the opportunity to meet up. I wasn't really smart enough to plan ahead on this one, so I ended up taking a bus there and back....which was a NINE HOUR ride--one way. So I spent most of Friday and Sunday on a cramped bus, but hey, I can handle aching muscles and dehydration for a day in such a great city.

Getting into the city Friday night was quite interesting. I wondered around four blocks searching for a particular bus in a virtual ocean of buses. I finally gave up, knowing I had already missed the one I was supposed to take, so I rode around the Underground for about 45 minutes until I made it to the train station. I accidentally jumped on the wrong train and thankfully, I had a strange feeling that I was on the wrong train and literally jumped off right as it was leaving. It was kind of a frightening thing heading out on the train, watching the landmarks of the city disappear from my eyes. I was in a hostel on the other side of the Thames....the wrong side of the Thames. This is not where you want to arrive after dark--but that's just what I did. Seriously, I've rarely been as nervous as I was in this neighborhood, but thank the Lord, I survived. My friends arrived later that night, and when we came out of the hostel Saturday morning, we were pleasantly greeted with a blood splattered sidewalk surrounded by police tape as we walked to the train station.

But anyway, we did have a fantastic day! We spent the morning in St. Paul's Cathedral, which was really spectacular. We did the enormous hike (259 narrow, winding stairs) up to the top of the dome and looked out over really amazing views of the city. It was overcast and cloudy, but that's London. Naturally, pictures are forbidden in St. Paul's, but the one here is one of the stealthy snapshots I managed to click.

After the cathedral we stood in line for discount theatre tickets in Leicester Square, grabbed some lunch, and parted ways. I spent my afternoon wandering around the city, ducking in various shops, taking another look at the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben, and doing some people-watching in Trafalgar Square. My favorite part of the afternoon was perusing the National Gallery. Museums are totally free in the UK, and this one is INCREDIBLE. I spent almost two hours in there, but one could truly spend all day soaking it in. I saw works by Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, Monet, Van Gogh, Reubens, Cezannne, Rembrandt, Van Eyck, Raphael, Botticelli, Titian, and Degas. I was probably most excited to see a painting I remember loving as a little girl: "The Umbrellas," by Renoir.

After dinner, I went to see the musical Wicked, which I've wanted to see for several years now. It was, just as I expected, really spectacular and so much fun! We had quite a late night of wonderful fun with my dear friend Hannah......and then I got about 3 hours of sleep.

The really frightening part was getting back to my bus the next day. I had to get up at 6AM to wonder around (in the dark, of course) this scary neighborhood to find a random local city bus back to the huge Victoria bus station and make it to my Glasgow bus by 8AM. Somehow (by the grace of God) I made it onto the bus on time and made the 9 hour journey back.

It seemed strangely comforting to pull back into Glasgow as the sun set....I think I'm actually starting to feel at home here, and I can't even begin to say how happy that makes me.

A few days ago, I was pleasantly surprised with several different facebook messages from friends that all happened to write me over the same couple of days. Hearing from friends back home really means more than I can say, and I am so grateful for any small communication I receive.
Last week, for the first time, someone asked me if I felt alone here. I had to answer honestly that there are many times when I do. It seems like such a strange contradiction, because I have met more new friends than I can even keep up with and I'm surrounded by continual masses of people that fill the busy city streets. Yet there are times when I feel profoundly and deeply alone--or isolated might be the better word.

I am so much more self-conscious about being an American than I ever expected. I sit alone in my classes, surrounded by other 4th year students who already know each other and don't often care to speak to an international student. They all stare at me when I speak in class the minute they hear my American accent. I am so accustomed to being a vocal participant and it feels so strange to suddenly be so shy.

Perhaps the thing that makes me feel more isolated than anything is really quite silly: fashion. Unlike America, where students commonly go to class in sweatpants and t-shirts, people here (particularly girls) really dress up to go to class. I'm talking high heels, fancy handbags, dresses, intense amounts of makeup, etc. Not only that, but the common, everyday style here is unlike anything I could have possibly imagined. Girls almost never wear pants....tights or leggings with a slightly long shirt is the most common look. Tennis shoes are unthinkable, and wearing sweatpants (or anything remotely comfortable) outside of a gym would be almost criminal. The style in general is so strange and overdone that if I wanted to try and "blend in" with the crowd, I just couldn't do it without buying an entirely new wardrobe and sacrificing every shred of my concept of "normal" clothing.

So when I go out in a simple long sleeve shirt and average fitting jeans, people stare at me like I'm an underdressed slob who didn't get the memo to look normal. Some days I try to fit in and wear something more British, and then I feel like a terrible impostor who can't even be true to myself.


....Okay, after taking a break for a couple hours, I just read over what I've written thus far I get the same feeling that I've had a lot over the past couple of weeks: disgust at my own self-absorption. I'm really tired of wallowing in shallowness. I'm tired of my own vanity and caring about how people perceive me. I am praying that I will have the courage to be different, to be at peace with my own uniqueness and with the ways I don't fit into this culture. I want to spend my mental energy on greater things than my own fear of appearing out of place. I don't want to chase after a temporary reputation of "normalcy"when it's so entirely false and fleeting.

My deepest desire is to live a life of substance and truth, a life that glorifies God and serves others.....oh, how I pray that this longing would burn brighter in me than my craving for acceptance! I am falling so short of that right now....but I keep falling into grace upon grace, and for that I am going to sleep grateful.

I headed out around 6:45 AM on Saturday with six other international students, taking a bus to Edinburgh, the capital city of Scotland. It's remarkably close to where I live, only about 45 minutes away. It's incredibly different from Glasgow, but it's hard to know how to articulate the differences. It's far more fancy....Edinburgh has always been the cultural, literary, political hub of Scotland, so it's had quite a lot more money invested in it than Glasgow, which is historically a rough, gritty, industrial port town. Though Edinburgh is far more "posh," it's also an absolute tourist magnet. I have yet to see tourist oriented attractions or stores in Glasgow, but the streets of Edinburgh are lined with tartan scarves, kilts, "I (heart) Scotland" t-shirts, bagpipe players, and William Wallace imitators. That's probably because Glaswegians wouldn't stand for it. Glasgow feels like a city where people actually LIVE, and I love that. It has a buzz about it that's edgier and to me, more exciting.

Anyway, we did have a beautiful weekend! We spent Saturday afternoon hiking up King Arthur's Seat, a mountain that consists of the remains of an extinct volcano. You might know it from a scene in Chariots of Fire. It was a lovely hike, just challenging enough to be enjoyable, and gave us an incredible view of the city from the top. The amazing thing about Edinburgh is that it's surrounded by the ocean...so we're on top of a rocky craig, looking over the tops of elegant stone buildings and then farther out to the stunning blue sea. Wow.

We were blessed with incredible weather (this NEVER happens in Scotland) on Sunday, which we used to roam the remarkable Edinburgh castle. It really seems straight out of a fairy tale, placed on a rocky cliff high above the city. We spent several hours admiring views of the city, impressive canons, the Scottish crown jewels, and the history of the Scottish monarchy.

After a long morning of castle exploring, we searched out (and successfully found) the Elephant Cafe, where J.K. Rowling scribbled the beginnings of Harry Potter on scraps of napkins. Considering that the cafe has a view of the castle, we could see where she got some of her ideas about a certain magical school!

All in all, we couldn't ask for a better weekend, but now I'm exhausted and trying to catch up on the 900 pages I was assigned to read this weekend. Hey, I was supposed to be reading Sir Walter Scott, but instead I explored his hometown....can I somehow get credit for that?

Wow, this is the city where I live. We took a bus tour of the city on Saturday, and these are a few things we saw....

My blog format started acting yesterday, so after a lot of frustration in trying to fix it, I finally just changed it to this new look. I still have to tinker with it a bit, but I'm excited about that picture, which is a view over the Glasgow city center from one of buildings where I take class.

Last weekend, our first trip out of the city. We spent a very rainy, windy day trudging through the mud at beautiful Loch Lomand!

Yes, this beautiful box was delivered to our door two days ago:If you look closely, you can see the note written across the top, "To the American Girls." That's how we're known around here, I suppose! Ahh, doughnuts have never tasted so good. The people who went to get them drove six hours, bought 84 doughnuts, and payed 50 pounds, which currently equates to 80 U.S. dollars. Wow.

It came at just the right time, too. The first week of classes has been a bit depressing....

Reason 1:
While engineering and business majors seem to be twiddling their thumbs and laughing about how easy their classes are, the American English majors are absolutely dumbfounded at the amount of work expected of us each week. Literally, no exaggeration, I have been assigned over 500 pages of material to be read by the end of this weekend, some of which is written in Old Scots, which bears NO RESEMBLANCE to the language we now know as English. When I am not eating or sleeping over the next three days, I will be reading Edith Wharton, Robert Burns, John Locke, David Hume, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Francis Bacon, Gottfried Leibniz, Immanuel Kant, Voltaire, in addition to five different versions of Little Red Riding Hood.

My mind is currently an addled mush of characters and philosophical stances and bizzare Scottish phrases like this bit from Burns: "Till a their well-swall'd kytes belyve...then auld guidman maist like to rive Bethankit hums....Or olio that was staw a sow...Wi' perfect sconner?"

Did you get that? Because I sure didn't. Yesterday my professor was discussing a poet and said with a scholarly air, "Could we perhaps say that he was using this literary technique to cock a snook at convention?" Yes sir, perhaps we could say that if I knew what "cocking a snook" meant.

Reason 2:
I spent over 150 pounds on textbooks today, and I still have more to buy tomorrow. Considering that my professors are pretty much requiring a novel per week and I'm taking four literature classes.....well, you can imagine the hefty pile of books in my room right now. Expensive, full price books, which I cannot even keep, as they would weigh down my suitcases immensely. After having to buy these in pounds sterling, I will never again complain about buying textbooks in America.
HOWEVER--
Here's the good part of my day. COSTA COFFEE. This is a coffee store chain based out of the United Kingdom that is essentially the European equivalent to Starbucks (which is also quite popular here). Costa is actually bigger in the UK than Starbucks, and in my opinion, rather superior. I might be slightly prejudiced by my love for the little stenciled chocolate powder they sift onto your lattes and cappuchinos. Today, I sat in one of the many Costa's in Glasgow for over four hours, pouring over my many readings for this weekend and mostly drifting off into watching the busy city streets outside.
For a couple hours while I was there, an older man in a nice suit was sitting across from me, writing notes as he observed the bustle of the coffee shop. He noticed the multiple books strewn across my table and came over to ask me about what I was reading. We had a long, lovely chat about Scotland, America, and literature.....and then I came to find out from the shop's employees that he was the regional manager of the chain for Scotland, doing an assessment of the store. Crazy!

I feel much more inclined to support their business now, as is probably best evidenced by this second photo of my table a couple of hours later: one latte down, one double macchiatto left to go. Philosophy is always a bit more tolerable with espresso in your system.