LINK Weekend

This past weekend I took a trip down to Leicester for the Ambassadorial Scholar LINK weekend. The weekend is essentially an opportunity for all of the scholars in the UK to get together, meet one another, and get some practical tips for success during the scholarship year.

I traveled down to Leicester by train. The other scholars in Edinburgh chose to fly, but I enjoy trains and I figured maybe I'd be able to get some reading done (so I was kidding myself on that one...) However, I did get a nice view of the countryside before it got dark. I stayed with a host family and another scholar from Germany, Maria.

Saturday all of the scholars were given free admission to the Leicester Space Museum. Afterwards, we all went to the City Hall and Courthouse for a speech from the Lord Mayor of Leicester. Yes, I'm sure many of you are thinking "Lord Mayor, really? Is that a joke?!" But no! It is not a joke, that's what people call him. He is addressed as "Lord Mayor" when people speak to him. I am including a picture of him with me-I hope you can differentiate between the two of us. Apparently, I am the first person he has ever met from Delaware!

Saturday night we all had a big dinner at Leicester University and a night full of traditional English dancing. It was called a "Barn Dance," but in reality it was nothing like a Barn Dance as one would imagine in the States. It would really do me no use to try and explain the evening to you, so please see attached pictures for a better description!

The best part of the weekend was getting to meet so many fantastic people. All of the scholars have such a unique attitude about service and changing the world. And the scholars came from all over the world-I met people from Australia, New Zealand, Japan, Georgia (the country, not the state!), Namibia, Greece, Germany, and many more countries. Having the chance to be introduced to so many different perspectives was great. (And now knowing friends all over the UK, I have more excuses to go do more traveling!)


 
 

Arthur's Seat: Maggie Turned Mountain Goat

Climbed Arthur's Seat today (which is that giant hill/mountain thing pictured in one of my earlier posts.) I have not felt so out of shape in a long time! In my defense, the route we chose to take up was riddled with stones, dirt, giant rocks, and some VERY steep angles. It took a lot of concentration to try and hide the fact that I was out of breath over 90% of the time on the way up...was relatively sure I would suffer a mild myocardial infarc before reaching the top.

Needless to say, I made it to the top with minimal damage (and you can see in that I am still around to write!)

Attached are pictures. View was spectacular. The wind was intense. It was incredible to experience the extreme changes in wind from the city area to the top of the Seat. Hence, the interesting hair and windburned face you will see in my pictures!

Loving life over here more and more every day!

The First Week

I have only been here a week and it feels like I have lived here for years. The country has captivated me with her beauty, her people, and her capital city of Edinburgh.

And I am officially making the transition into UK spelling, so get ready for the "-our," "-e," and "s" in place of "z." Partially out of fear for lowered marks on my term papers, but mostly because I think it's fun (and makes me sound more proper!)

I have made many interesting experiences and observations:

1. Apparently I have an accent. (Do I really have an accent?) And even more, it was described as a "Jersey" accent, by other Americans. I do not know what else to say here. Please help me.
2. The treadmills are clocked in km/hr, versus mph. I tried about 5 of them and didn't understand why my normal speed felt so slow and thus convinced SURELY all of the treadmills were broken. Enquired to the guy next to me about this, who told me the speed is in km/hr, NOT mph. Needless to say I felt a bit stupid.
3. I LOVE how the Scottish speak. They say week-end (emphasizing the "end" part of the word) instead of weekend. They say de-tail in stead of detail. It kind of makes me feel the need to go to elocution school though (as apparently I speak like an American and a Jersey American at that.)
4. The men REALLY DO wear kilts. And wouldn't you like to know I find it strangely attractive?
5. They do not call University accommodation "dorms" here--they're called "flats." Elevators are called "lifts." Still learning the vocab differences.

Am adjusting to "dorm life" - or flat life, so to speak. Yet, there are two VERY interesting (to put it mildly) facts that stick out about my wee flat. One, as discussed previously is the bed. Attached is a picture of my arm spanning the bed's width. Yes, and my amazon-sized self is supposed to sleep on this. Interesting, indeed. Two, I MUST speak of the "WC" (aka-the bathroom): it is certainly the most odd thing I've ever seen. It's about the size of a closet, yet there is a toilet, shower, and sink all stuffed into one. Like a 3-for-1 deal I suppose. But the shower has no separation from the rest of the bathroom floor! It's really quite bizarre. I will take pictures and post for your viewing pleasure. And the sink has separate "hot" and "cold" faucets. So if you come visit and wash your hands, you have two choices: scalding hot and iceberg cold. Pick your poison, lads and lassies!

Luckily, the breathtaking scenery, fabulous new friends, and exciting course opportunities have more than made up for the issues I may have with my "WC." Thanks to Andy, my lanky 6'4" friend from NC, I am learning my way about the city quite quickly. We have traipsed up to Princes Street several times now, visited through the old city centre, and ventured to programme meetings together. I wear heels and I am still short compared to him. Most glorious, indeed!

Mom and Dad are still here, though their days are waning :( I feel like a bit childish saying so, but I am going to be sad when they leave Tuesday. I don't think there are two more generous kind people (perhaps Thelma and John, my host counselor and her husband tie...) We ate at Jenner's for lunch on Friday (the OLDEST running Department store in the UK, in operation in its original location since 1838), overlooking Princes Street. Then, Mom and I had a fiasco getting to IKEA to secure the rest of the storage items and shelving my mother insisted "I needed." In fact, I quote: "Maggie, I just fear that if you do not become more organized, you shall be swallowed up and simply disappear into the abyss known as your flat...just like at Grove City." Do you think she is alluding that I am not neat?

Met Thelma and John in Dunbar for dinner Saturday night-got to see the Dunbar Castle (where olde Mary Queen of Scots stayed before she learned the future would not bode well for her...or her head...as it was chopped off in the following year.)

All in all, I am enjoying taking this all in. I cannot fully explain in detail what life is like here. It is like living in a beautiful movie.

Oh! And a quick PS-It has not rained once since I have been here! I must bring good weather ;) Yet, I did wear my infamous red rainboots today (when the sun was shining fiercely) and I was questioned about why I was wearing them-to which I answered: because they're my fav boots (and I am on a SEVERE shoe shortage, as I thought it would be prudent to spend my shoes allocation in the suitcase on boots and warm shoes versus uber high stilettos!) Therefore, if you're looking to send me a gift, sexy shoes would be fantastic. Size 9 please!

Au revoir for now!

So today is my first full day in Edinburgh—and also first time being on the University’s campus. What a fantastic city! Not having visited for so long, I had forgotten how much the city captivates me. The architecture on the old buildings is reminiscent of medieval times. I can only imagine the city minus all of the cars, streetlights, and other modern-day amenities—sitting in all her glory as the capital of ancient Scotland.

I checked into my accommodation this morning. After the strenuous traveling experience from Sunday-Monday (delayed flight from Philly, missed connection to Edinburgh, 6 hour layover in Heathrow, no sleep for 36 hours…), I was in no mood to move in last night. My room is more than adequate. Yet, I have to say that the bed is a bit small. In fact, it's really skinny and very short. I am not sure who exactly it is made for, but it's certainly not me. I am beginning to realize my height is an anomaly here though. When I was walking around campus today, people looked at me as if I had 6 heads. I could tell much of it was because of my height because they would look at me, look down to see if I was wearing heels, and look me up again. As I stood in the Matriculation line to register, I do admit I was the 4th tallest in a room of over 100.

I have also met my host counselors from Rotary. I don’t even know where to begin. What WONDERFUL WONDERFUL people! Their names are Thelma and John Band and they are both retired. Technically, Thelma is my host counselor and John is not a member of Rotary. However, he has been just as supportive as she, so I am making him my honorary host counselor. They remind me of people I know, but I cannot quite place my finger on who.

Interesting/horrifying experience this afternoon: went to a meeting for what I thought was a meeting for all postgrads in the School of Social and Political Science. The meeting immediately began covering different aspects of research expectations of a postgrad/PhD student and in essence translated to me as: "Your next few years (or year) is going to be terribly unfortunate, as you will probably live in the library and morph into a book before you make it out of here." Terror struck through me and I thought about calling one of you to come pick me up IMMEDIATELY, as I surely didn't want to die a long slow death in the library. After all, I'm doing a Taught PG programme! Not a degree by research! Right?! I began thinking that perhaps I accidentally ticked the wrong box on my application, declaring that I had full intentions to go on to a PhD-but quickly reminded myself I couldn't have been that stupid...could I have??!

Thankfully, my fears were alleviated after a brief 45 minutes when I approached the SPS Director explaining I surely had to be in the wrong place. And I was. My vision slowly returned and I regained feeling in all of my extremities. I know this may sound a bit dramatic, but you must understand the HUGE difference between as Taught degree and a degree by research. Degrees by research require much MUCH more careful pre-planning, prep work, and preconceived ideas of what you want to research and write your dissertation/thesis on. Had I chosen this route (vs the Taught route), I would have needed to begin preparing MONTHS ago-and had a sponsor for my research and detailed intentions on what kind of research I was planning to do and how I was going to do it (funding, etc.)

Again, insert: MASSIVE SIGH of relief.

Random observations/questions I have made throughout my first day:

1. The UK seems to be slightly confused about how floors are ordered in a building: apparently they call what we call the first floor, the "ground" floor-which subsequently makes the 2nd floor the 1st floor, and so on. VERY confusing when trying to find your flat and you are not aware of this. I might have been relatively sure my room did not exist.

2. I wonder how my spelling in my papers will be assessed. Will I be required to write "programme" or will "program" do? Is it "color" or "colour?"

3. Drinking really IS a very very daily activity here. I saw drunk people out around town at 4pm. It must be the world renowned single malt scotch.

The Journey Suddenly Becomes Tangible!

And the Scottish Chronicles are officially beginning. I am moving from simply thinking about my life in Europe to living it. Oddly enough, I feel somewhat numb. This week has been quite the whirlwind of emotions for me. I have waffled back and forth from brimming with anticipation to a nervous (okay terrified) trepidation. I spent about 2 days crying at almost anything and everything. Embarrassingly enough, this can be verified through almost anyone that came in contact with me during these two days. I think I perhaps freaked out even some of my closest friends. (See Megan Montgomery for details)

Fortunately, my family has seen me in action during these “Freak Out Frank” episodes, as I like to call them (times wherein I get really dramatic over something that isn’t worth losing a wink of sleep over). Thus, they took my Weepy Wanda moments in stride. IE: I came home from a friend’s Tuesday night crying (for no particular reason) and my brother laughed at me and told me to get a grip. Then he proceeded to say, “Well, if you fail out of Edinburgh, you can always transfer to Ethiopia and go run.” Oh good! I could be a professional Ethiopian runner! I’m sure Pfizer and Rotary both would be pleased with that accomplishment. I did laugh though.

Throughout this whole emotional roller coaster this past week, I've really come to ponder the idea of “faith.” What is “faith” anyway?

I would define it as believing that God is true to His Word, even when my feelings are screaming out something completely opposite – a belief in what I KNOW to be true, even if I cannot feel it or touch it at that precise moment – “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:1). When I consider these definitions, I realize how much of my life I live without faith.

Thankfully, life is not measured by who we are at a precise moment, but rather who we are becoming. I don't think any of us ever really "arrive." Instead, we are on a journey centered around continuous improvement and progress (pending we are malleable and can learn from our mistakes when we make them).

Packing: Continued

Three guesses what wonderful activity is occupying my evening. If you guessed packing, you get a prize. The prize is the satisfaction of knowing that I'm stuck packing my life for an entire year tonight and you are off somewhere enjoying freedom.

On a positive note, I was able to recruit a friend for this round of packing (okay, so the friend is really my twin brother, Gordon...who is probably helping more out of obligation than friendship).

Good news is that the suitcases are packed. Slightly-not-as-good news is that the suitcases are what I would like to call obese, if suitcases can in fact be described by such an adjective. For example: Gordon (198 lbs) and I (130lbs) had to combine our weights and sit on the suitcase affectionately called "The Silver Bullet" to successfully shut it. (That probably should have indicated that ye olde Silver Bullet was quite over 50lbs.)

To accomplish the process of weighing, we confiscated Grandmom's scale. Gordon weighed himself and then proceeded to stand on the scale, holding each suitcase. I scurried underneath to capture the weight and then subtracted Gordon's weight.

After "Round #1": ALL three suitcases are over the weight limit. Big Blue and Old Green only by 5-8lbs. Silver Bullet by...well...20lbs.

Right as I was about to tackle the unappealing task of unpacking and re-arranging, my mom came in and saved the night. She offered me a 4th suitcase (I am technically only allowed 2, but mom and dad have now both offered one of their "2" towards my cause.)

INSERT HERE: GRANDIOSE sigh of relief.

Now, I must return to packing and do the re-arranging/transfer of items into the 4th suitcase, as I do NOT want to have to deal with this tomorrow.

Bonne nuit mes chers!

Packing: Chapter 1

So this is my first official post! Unfortunately, for all of you, it happens to fall on the day in which I am ambitiously attempting to do a large portion of packing for Edinburgh. It is not going well. And "not going well" doesn't even accurately capture the situation.

For those of you who know me, I would not characterize myself as having tendencies to "travel light." In truth, that is a severe understatement. But it is surely a bit unrealistic that I am expected to fit all of my life's needs for a year into 3 50lb suitcases? Really?! (My parents have been gracious enough to travel with me and are giving me an extra suitcase.)

One of the primary problems here is the weather in Edinburgh. It's cold. And it is cold pretty much all year around (although, I admit my idea of cold may be slightly skewed.) This essentially translates into sweatshirts, sweaters, coats, and boots, all of which take up copious amount of room. Not to mention the sheets, duvet, towels, and other misc items I am required to bring.

All of this makes doing ANYTHING unrelated to packing VERY appealing. In fact, so appealing that I keep leaving the packing project to do laundry, scavenge the kitchen for something to eat (despite not being hungry), and primary example--posting a blog.

Of course, my solution for this whole situation would ideally be to have Mimi, Baby, Bright Eyes, and Mr. Stripes (my parent's cats) take on this daunting task for me, but apparently they're off today. Will see what I am able to accomplish as the day progresses.

Onward ho!