A Year in Scotland

A year yesterday, I touched down at Heathrow and caught the train up north. A year yesterday, I wandered off the GNER service at Waverly station, feeling bewildered, tired, and incredibly nervous. I hopped in a taxi and sped off to my accomodation, whereupon I collapsed. I've been in Scotland for a year.

Not consistently, of course, but I've spent the past year resting my head in Edinburgh and calling it my home du jour (or 'home d'anee', really). Mental. It's a difficult concept for me to wrap my head around.

About a year ago, I went to see the fireworks at the end of the Edinburgh Festival; standing on Princes Street with a bunch of EAPers watching the light explode from the castle, I felt as if I'd walked into a magical, strange world. Last night I stood on top of Calton Hill and watched the fireworks with my friends. The city still looked incredible, especially lit up at night. Edinburgh will always retain that beauty, that mystery and understated grandeur, and I hope to return frequently.

A year ago, upon my arrival, I wrote the following potential blog, but never published it. Now, for the first time in a year... the musings of 19-year-old Julia:

O, Brave New World!:
Arrival (written 9/2/06)

After about 20 total hours of traveling I would like to ignore all the unpleasant details about my trip and inform you that I am safely delivered in Edinburgh. 10 hour plane ride: easy, if you watch 3 and a half movies to pass the time! (Now I can’t even remember which ones they were…) Hour-long tube ride into London, to King’s Cross Station: great. Cheap and direct, whilst giving me the chance to stretch my legs. 5 hour train ride from London: comfortable, but treading hard into the time difference. A cup of coffee on the train was a bad idea, as all it really did was make me even more jittery as we got farther northward. It was after we passed Newcastle that my nerves (helped tremendously by the coffee) took off, realizing that now I was entering totally new territory. It finally began to sink in that I’m actually going to be here – a place I (as of now) don’t know – for a year, and am not just ridiculously over packed for some vacation.

Also, during my trip, I was fortunate enough to have a revelation, leading to the formulation of a new exercise program. Some of you may already be familiar with pieces of it. (“Fat camp” anyone? Sorry, inside rugby joke.) Anyway, there are two slightly different versions, and they go something like this:

1. The HARD way:
Pack and transport the contents of 1 (one) year of your life across 1 (one) continent and 1 (one) ocean. Note: contents must weigh as much or more than the amount you are physically able to lift in-season, and be parceled out into one small, one medium, and one large bag that insists always on falling over on the escalator if unattended for a millisecond. When the large bag inevitably falls over, you are required to curse loudly and profanely as a large group of school children are passing by while wondering why the people behind you look frightened of the colossus tumbling towards them and don’t just catch the damn thing. If at all possible, make your way through a naturally occurring StairMaster, such as a public transportation system unfriendly to the physically disabled (*cough* the London Underground). Don’t just “mind the gap,” but really start to mind it and get bothered by the staggering abyss between train and platform. To increase the challenge over the course of the trip, alternate standing and cramming yourself into a tiny seat and get so tired you cannot read signs any longer, allowing you to take a wrong route (up stairs) whenever possible.

2. The EASY way:
Lift weights, run, bike, and otherwise smartly exercise throughout the summer (despite an exhausting class and work schedule). Decide you won’t actually get tired of wearing the same clothes for a whole year and don’t pack two of anything. Lastly, run into an internationally famous (male) rugby team with the exact same destination as yourself and charm them into carrying your bags.

But you know me, I never like to do things the easy way.

I have never needed a massage so badly in my life. It’s 2:45pm Pacific/Body time and 10:45pm Scottish Local time, and I could use a shower, some food, and a drink, in that order. But I am arrived, my room is comfortable, and orientation starts tomorrow.

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And in three days I'll be returning home. I can't believe how fast it has all gone.