the queen of the west
Sep. 22nd, 2004 02:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
timerippleWhat follows is a lengthy account of the past week or so. It is in fact severely abbreviated, so be grateful!
Monday, CA: Natalie MacMaster rocks. Flipping awesome concert, although I suspect the sound system was rigged to overemphasize the percussion and acoustic guitars while preserving the natural tone of the fiddle by means of minimal enhancement.
Tuesday, Somewhere Over the Atlantic: Dude. Is that ROTK I spy on my in-flight movie listing? It is, it is! Somehow my seatmate sleeps through the squeeage.
Wednesday, Edinburgh: My group and I arrive in Edinburgh, mostly with our luggage and sundry belongings. The hotel is next to the new Scottish Parliament building, which is built along the same lines as the interior of the Science Center, only not. Very odd, though. I gather most people hate it. In the distance Arthur’s Seat looms impressively. I privately resolve to climb it some time. The fiddle is mostly unharmed, but the bridge has parted company with the rest of the instrument. I swear loudly and make a note to talk to the St Andrews music department. The welcome dinner is some form of lasagna, doubtless extremely expensive and therefore luckily covered by my program fee. I find my companions very agreeable but a select few are, if I may paraphrase Mr. Bennet, “extremely silly”. In view of this I refrain from excessive effusions of “OMG we’re in SCOTLAND let’s all freak out and act like American TOURISTS!!!!!” and try not to roll my eyes. Fortunately, others are more sensible.
Thursday, Edinburgh: We are talked at a great deal. Our boredom is mollified by the promise of a ceilidh tomorrow night. I express a wish to interrogate the band; others are surprised, having assumed that there would be no live music. I inform them that one cannot have a proper ceilidh without live music. They are still skeptical. Then there is a tour bus, on which we are talked at again and shown Greyfriars Bobby at least three times. Dinner is found in a pub. Apparently tortilla chips are an exception to the crisps vs. chips rule. Tasty!
Friday, Edinburgh: A MSP is scheduled to speak to us about “Scottish Devolution”, whatever that is. He speaks about it for a few minutes, then launches into a full-scale critique of the Bush administration and the British government’s involvement in its Iraq stuff. For the most part we listen politely. Apparently there are Republicans present. Next we are informed by a member of the police that “students leave everything at their arse”, meaning we are a careless bunch of slobs and leave valuable electronic equipment and expensive stuff lying around or in easily accessible pockets. More smiles and nods. Finally, the quest of Arthur’s Seat is achieved! Four or five of us gamely cling to the rocks as we reach the summit. We return weary and windblown and grinning. The promised ceilidh band (hah! I win!) consists of two accordions and a percussion set. We proceed to make fools of ourselves attempting to dance; I am (surprisingly) not among the very clumsiest. I am smug to note that I know about half the tunes, and that the band repeated one reel set for two different dances. Alas, there is no fiddler.
Saturday, St Andrews: My feet are sore and my legs could use a nice hot bath. Therefore I must walk partway up Arthur’s Seat again, find the National Monument, walk around its park, and straggle back to the hotel before lunch and the “prompt” 1:00 bus. We arrive at our various new homes in St Andrews that afternoon. Mine is supposed to recall a ship, but honestly it looks more like three termite-eaten blocks glued together and dropped halfway down a hill. I’m sure I’ll become quite fond of it, really. My single room is about the size of the one I shared with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
edajaram last year – what luxury!
Sunday, St Andrews: The official kickoff of Freshers’ Week. I spend a lot of time walking around getting my hair in my face and looking for a Tesco market. Note to all interested: nail clippers are ineffective as a photo-trimming device. I intend to get my Internet access set up and go on a walking tour, but neither of these things happens. I am unremorseful since I have found potential friend material.
Monday, St Andrews: Yay Internet! I spend more time in the queue than I do in the Academic Fayre, in which I grab a couple of brochures and run off to buy a power adapter. I now have enough battery to write this summary! Later, I waffle back and forth about whether to go on my hall’s pub crawl. I decide to go, but three bars later find some other sober people as bored as I am and skive off, while vainly longing for a second dinner. I suspect I have met more Americans than Scots. Bit odd, that.
Tuesday, St Andrews: I make a nuisance of myself at the Music Department until the Director shows up and kindly puts my bridge back on. My precious is now (theoretically) operational; I am determined to find my hall’s music room and snag some practice time. Hopefully other musically inclined residents will be out this evening. I go to the Classical Studies and Greek ‘subject talks’, meaning the departments do their spiel and the freshers ask questions. I have the pleasure of hearing my professors spoken highly of by their colleagues and ex-teachers, and look forward to some fun Greek stuff. I must check the timetables, however, as there are certain courses I’m desperate to get into. The ‘Essential Information for International Students’ talk is mind numbing; I relieve my boredom by conjugating Greek verbs in the margins of my “common abbreviations” handout. I am grateful, on reflection, to be employed by the infinitely superior PLTC. I go for a sunset walk after dinner, and if the pine trees do not sparkle in quite the right way, somehow I’m not terribly upset about it. My precious works again, but the ‘music room’ is really the lower common room. All walls in this building are constructed for optimum acoustic permeability. Makes for good sound quality, but little privacy. Hunh.
Wednesday, St Andrews: I decide to be sociable and go to the ‘Town & Gown’ coffee session. Heck – free food, free tea, a chance to stand around looking foolish – who wouldn’t want to go? (As it turns out, most of the student population. Oh well. The biscuits are good.) I actually spend the entire time talking to the same two guys. And an hour and a half of talking to the same people is a long time for me, although our conversation is interrupted at various points by various important people being introduced to us by somebody’s enthusiastic mum. I am informed of the interesting rumor that the Geography subject talk was attended by approximately 90 people, 80 of which were female. Heh heh heh. *amused* After lunch I drop by the advertised jam session and walk out five minutes later in a state heavy-metal trauma. I have to go sit by my lonesome for an hour before I am fit to go see an advisor about my proposed schedule. My schedule is approved, I go through matriculation (which, as one of the numerous student union booklets says, sounds “a little like an obscure sexual predilection” but is in fact much less interesting), and find a used book store. Go me!
Later…damn these two-for-one Tesco chocolate covered biscuit sales!
Monday, CA: Natalie MacMaster rocks. Flipping awesome concert, although I suspect the sound system was rigged to overemphasize the percussion and acoustic guitars while preserving the natural tone of the fiddle by means of minimal enhancement.
Tuesday, Somewhere Over the Atlantic: Dude. Is that ROTK I spy on my in-flight movie listing? It is, it is! Somehow my seatmate sleeps through the squeeage.
Wednesday, Edinburgh: My group and I arrive in Edinburgh, mostly with our luggage and sundry belongings. The hotel is next to the new Scottish Parliament building, which is built along the same lines as the interior of the Science Center, only not. Very odd, though. I gather most people hate it. In the distance Arthur’s Seat looms impressively. I privately resolve to climb it some time. The fiddle is mostly unharmed, but the bridge has parted company with the rest of the instrument. I swear loudly and make a note to talk to the St Andrews music department. The welcome dinner is some form of lasagna, doubtless extremely expensive and therefore luckily covered by my program fee. I find my companions very agreeable but a select few are, if I may paraphrase Mr. Bennet, “extremely silly”. In view of this I refrain from excessive effusions of “OMG we’re in SCOTLAND let’s all freak out and act like American TOURISTS!!!!!” and try not to roll my eyes. Fortunately, others are more sensible.
Thursday, Edinburgh: We are talked at a great deal. Our boredom is mollified by the promise of a ceilidh tomorrow night. I express a wish to interrogate the band; others are surprised, having assumed that there would be no live music. I inform them that one cannot have a proper ceilidh without live music. They are still skeptical. Then there is a tour bus, on which we are talked at again and shown Greyfriars Bobby at least three times. Dinner is found in a pub. Apparently tortilla chips are an exception to the crisps vs. chips rule. Tasty!
Friday, Edinburgh: A MSP is scheduled to speak to us about “Scottish Devolution”, whatever that is. He speaks about it for a few minutes, then launches into a full-scale critique of the Bush administration and the British government’s involvement in its Iraq stuff. For the most part we listen politely. Apparently there are Republicans present. Next we are informed by a member of the police that “students leave everything at their arse”, meaning we are a careless bunch of slobs and leave valuable electronic equipment and expensive stuff lying around or in easily accessible pockets. More smiles and nods. Finally, the quest of Arthur’s Seat is achieved! Four or five of us gamely cling to the rocks as we reach the summit. We return weary and windblown and grinning. The promised ceilidh band (hah! I win!) consists of two accordions and a percussion set. We proceed to make fools of ourselves attempting to dance; I am (surprisingly) not among the very clumsiest. I am smug to note that I know about half the tunes, and that the band repeated one reel set for two different dances. Alas, there is no fiddler.
Saturday, St Andrews: My feet are sore and my legs could use a nice hot bath. Therefore I must walk partway up Arthur’s Seat again, find the National Monument, walk around its park, and straggle back to the hotel before lunch and the “prompt” 1:00 bus. We arrive at our various new homes in St Andrews that afternoon. Mine is supposed to recall a ship, but honestly it looks more like three termite-eaten blocks glued together and dropped halfway down a hill. I’m sure I’ll become quite fond of it, really. My single room is about the size of the one I shared with
edajaram last year – what luxury! Sunday, St Andrews: The official kickoff of Freshers’ Week. I spend a lot of time walking around getting my hair in my face and looking for a Tesco market. Note to all interested: nail clippers are ineffective as a photo-trimming device. I intend to get my Internet access set up and go on a walking tour, but neither of these things happens. I am unremorseful since I have found potential friend material.
Monday, St Andrews: Yay Internet! I spend more time in the queue than I do in the Academic Fayre, in which I grab a couple of brochures and run off to buy a power adapter. I now have enough battery to write this summary! Later, I waffle back and forth about whether to go on my hall’s pub crawl. I decide to go, but three bars later find some other sober people as bored as I am and skive off, while vainly longing for a second dinner. I suspect I have met more Americans than Scots. Bit odd, that.
Tuesday, St Andrews: I make a nuisance of myself at the Music Department until the Director shows up and kindly puts my bridge back on. My precious is now (theoretically) operational; I am determined to find my hall’s music room and snag some practice time. Hopefully other musically inclined residents will be out this evening. I go to the Classical Studies and Greek ‘subject talks’, meaning the departments do their spiel and the freshers ask questions. I have the pleasure of hearing my professors spoken highly of by their colleagues and ex-teachers, and look forward to some fun Greek stuff. I must check the timetables, however, as there are certain courses I’m desperate to get into. The ‘Essential Information for International Students’ talk is mind numbing; I relieve my boredom by conjugating Greek verbs in the margins of my “common abbreviations” handout. I am grateful, on reflection, to be employed by the infinitely superior PLTC. I go for a sunset walk after dinner, and if the pine trees do not sparkle in quite the right way, somehow I’m not terribly upset about it. My precious works again, but the ‘music room’ is really the lower common room. All walls in this building are constructed for optimum acoustic permeability. Makes for good sound quality, but little privacy. Hunh.
Wednesday, St Andrews: I decide to be sociable and go to the ‘Town & Gown’ coffee session. Heck – free food, free tea, a chance to stand around looking foolish – who wouldn’t want to go? (As it turns out, most of the student population. Oh well. The biscuits are good.) I actually spend the entire time talking to the same two guys. And an hour and a half of talking to the same people is a long time for me, although our conversation is interrupted at various points by various important people being introduced to us by somebody’s enthusiastic mum. I am informed of the interesting rumor that the Geography subject talk was attended by approximately 90 people, 80 of which were female. Heh heh heh. *amused* After lunch I drop by the advertised jam session and walk out five minutes later in a state heavy-metal trauma. I have to go sit by my lonesome for an hour before I am fit to go see an advisor about my proposed schedule. My schedule is approved, I go through matriculation (which, as one of the numerous student union booklets says, sounds “a little like an obscure sexual predilection” but is in fact much less interesting), and find a used book store. Go me!
Later…damn these two-for-one Tesco chocolate covered biscuit sales!
