Auld Lang Syne

I leave Scotland tomorrow.

A few words to describe how I feel at the end of this four-month sojourn:

Sad, excited to see family, friends and Nicholai, heartbroken to leave my family and friends here, proud of what I accomplished, curious about what will happen next, GRATEFUL I had the opportunity to come to Scotland in the first place, crushed that I could not stay longer, and content that I made the most of my time here.

There’s only one thing left to do, in true Scottish fashion:

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind ?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and auld lang syne ?

For auld lang syne, my dear,

for auld lang syne,

we’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet,

for auld lang syne.

And surely you’ll buy your pint cup !
And surely I’ll buy mine !
And we’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

And there’s a hand my trusty friend !
And give us a hand o’ thine !
And we’ll take a right good-will draught,
for auld lang syne.

- Robert Burns

Mom I’m Alive

I didn’t feel right about leaving for yet another holiday without first updating quickly about my past few weeks.  I will of course be updating with more details and pictures about my last few adventures, but if you want to know why I’ve been too busy to update lately, it’s because I’ve been making the most of my last few weeks here in Scotland!

Last weekend I went on a three day cycling trip around the Isle of Lewis to see the Callanish Stones and to return to the Highlands one last time.  Since I returned, I have been enjoying the Edinburgh Fringe Festival and finishing up my remaining internship projects (to read about my internship experience in sum, please go here).  I have been steadily crossing off things on my list of things to do and see before I leave Scotland.  I only have a handful of things left, most prominently to visit the National Museum of Scotland and to have a final ‘wee dram’ of whisky.

My departure date is looming closer and closer each day (erm, I guess that’s how time works!) and I get tearful just thinking about leaving.  I love so many things about this place and I will miss living in a palace and spending time with Patty and Nat.  But I do miss my family and partner and I feel ready to return and tackle my last year of graduate school.

Also, Nicholai wisely pointed out to me “The sooner you leave, the sooner you can come back.”  Touche, love.

Tomorrow morning I leave for a week in The Netherlands!  I will be visiting my Aunt Patty and Uncle Press, who were so kind to invite me to their home.  I am beyond excited to see family, cycle and see some windmills!  And as always, to collect another passport stamp!

The Dalkeith Palace

It is my get pleasure to introduce you to my summer home, The Dalkeith Palace.

But first, as always, a little history.  The Dalkeith Palace was built upon the remains of the 12th Century Dalkeith Castle.  The Dalkeith Castle has a very rich history in Scotland.  The castle was at an important military stronghold, sitting above the bend of the North Esk River outside of Edinburgh.  The castle imprisoned Cardinal Beaton during the tumultuous Reformation period (which I told you all about after my trip to St. Andrews, remember?) .

The castle was owned at different times in history King James VI of Scotland (later known as James I, King of England), the son of Mary Queen of Scots, King Charles I, who used the estate as a personal hunting grounds, and General Monk and Cromwell, who planned the Restoration of the Monarchy and King Charles II to the throne in the castle between 1650 – 1654.

The castle was brought to ruin sometime in the late 17th Century.  The Duke of Buccleuch’s wife Anne then ordered the palace to be built, in the same fashion of William of Orange’s palace in the Netherlands.  The Buccleuchs, the largest landowners in the UK, used the palace as their seat until the mid-1910s.  During their occupation, the palace was visited by Bonnie Prince Charlie, on his fateful march south to London during the Jacobite Rebellion,  George IV during his visit to Edinburgh in 1822, and Queen Victoria in 1842.

During World War II, the palace housed the Polish Free Army.  Several decades later, it was converted into a modern facility and in the 1980s, leased to the Wisconsin consortium, which has operated the Wisconsin in Scotland program, where I am interning this summer, ever since in the palace.

The Dalkeith Palace has remained relatively true to its original look and feel since it was built in 1702.  The palace sits on a beautiful, landscaped estate of 850 acres full of farmland, bike trails, stables, and river bends.

The house is currently undergoing rennovations to its roof for the first time since it was constructed in 1702.  Even with the scaffolding covering its exterior, I think it’s the most beautiful house in the world.

A statue of the Duke of Wellington, stands proudly in the Marble Hall.  The staircase in the Marble Hall took a team of 10 marble-cutters 64 weeks to complete! The duchess had quite the affinity for marble, as evidenced by the number of marble fireplaces and bas-reliefs around the house.

On the first floor is the ballroom and gallery, home to a number of Buccleuch owned artworks.  Traditionally, a ballroom would be found on the ground floor of a country manor or palace such as this and the living quarters of the family on the first floor.  This is because, presumably, a palace would sometimes serve as a public place for ceilidhs, balls and so forth, and why would a lord or lady want the public near their private living quarters?  Therefore, the flats would be upstairs where the public were not invited.  However, Anne, the wife of the duke, instructed her quarters to be on the ground floor and the ballroom upstairs.

Original wallpaper from the 1700s.

Above is The Cavern, one of the recreational rooms in the basement of the house for students.  There is also a ping-pong room, pool room, exercise room and movie room in the palace.

Above are two graffiti stetches left by the Polish Army soldiers, who were housed on the third floor of the Dalkeith Palace during WWII.  The third is a photo of presumably a soldier’s loved one taped to the wall.  The third floor is in complete shambles (see below), but I am pretty sure a restoration is on the horizon.

As you can see, it is a very beautiful home, and I feel very privileged that I got to live, work and learn here for nearly four months.  It’s been good to me and there has not been a day I did not wake up and feel in awe to be waking up in a palace.

I also feel really lucky because when I was here, the Duke of Buccleuch and his family came by to tour of the house!  I got to meet the family and accompany them on their tour of the palace.  It was very foreign, indeed, to call someone “Your Grace” but they were very affable and friendly.

Sand Through an Hour Glass

I leave Scotland in exactly one month…

Let’s take a pause together and sigh heavily.

While I miss fam and friends, I’m just not ready to leave yet! I have three things I would like to do before I get back on that Boeing 747 on August 24:

• Visit Alnwick Castle and the St. Cloud State Study Abroad Program based in the castle!
• Go cycling in the Highlands!
• Visit the Netherlands!

I already have my ticket to The Netherlands (August 14 – 20), so we can cross that off the list. I fly into Brussels where my aunt, who lives in the South Limburg area, will meet me. I will spend a few days in southern Netherlands with her and my unlce before training north to Amsterdam, where I will do a few cycle and canal tours before returning to Edinburgh.

There is a possibility of me visiting Alnwick (“An-ick”) this weekend, but that depends on a number of factors I have no control over. Nonethematter – I am very grateful the director of the study abroad program based there called and invited me down for the weekend. I hope I can take him up on the offer!

But I am trying to be a bit greedy and see if I can’t throw in another 2-3 days in the Highlands, too, this summer. I would be a little heartbroken if I didn’t get to see the Highlands and green, green glens one more time before I left. Ideally, I would take the coach to Ullapool, take the perry to the Scottish Gaelic Isle of Lewis, the northernmost Outer Hebrides off the west coast, and cycle from Stornoway to the Callanish Stones.

Of course, I also have to remember August kicks off the world famous Fringe Festival here in my very backyard of Edinburgh! A month of arts, music, films, theater, avant-garde performances, and street food make a very compelling case for me to stick around!

ANYWAYS

An update on the haircut hostage situation: I finally got a haircut. I found a respectable haircutting facility on High Street and decided to bite the £30 bullet. It needed to happen; my hair is naturally very thick (In fact, the hairstylist, who apparently is not too concerned about tips, made several jokes about getting sheep shears to cut my thick hair) and on some days I find it unbearable to have so much hair warming my head. Overall, I am pretty satisfied with the ‘do.

LASTLY

Starting this fall, I am no longer an on-campus, studio dweller! That’s right, yours truly is finally moving off-campus. I am moving into a 4-bedroom house with three other individuals, two who are peers in my graduate program and the other who works in the same office I do and is a WWU alum as well. We are still scouting houses but we have a few we’re keeping our eyes on. I am excited at the idea of having a kitchen and bathroom separate from my bedroom and living area. And my very own washer and dryer!

…

Now I just need to get furniture. Hello, IKEA!

The Auld University Tour Series: University of St. Andrews

My Auld University Tour begins where higher education begins for Scotland: at the University of St. Andrews.

The University of St. Andrews, located in the Kingdom of Fife, was founded in 1413 under the papal authority of Pope Benedict XIII. It is the oldest university in Scotland, and the third oldest amongst English-speaking institutions, only predated by Oxford ((#1) and Cambridge (#2).

St. Andrews is consistently ranked one of the best universities in the world and applications to its fine arts program tripled when Prince William enrolled at St. Andrews in 2001 to study art history. Notable alumni of St. Andrews include King James II, Prince William (Class of 2005, Art History and Geography), James Wilson of the United States Declaration of Independence, John Knox, world champion cyclist Chris Hoy, and John Napier, inventor of logarithms. Yes, I think there should be some women included on that list, too!

As St. Andrews as a university expanded over centuries, its buildings and colleges are scattered throughout the town of St. Andrews without a central or continious campus. The first college of St. Andrews was St. Salvator’s College (below), founded in 1450, initially for the study of theology and the arts.

What I found particularly interesting about St. Salvator’s College is its main entrance faces out to the main road of St. Andrews, instead of in a self-enclosed quad area like Oxford and Cambridge. In a time where town-gown relationships were far from warm in England, it seems Scotland’s first insitution of higher had a different relationship with its host town. When I got home I looked this up on the university website, and my suspicions were confirmed: “From its beginnings, [St. Salvator] had a dual role both as the College Chapel and as a collegiate church serving the wider community. It was intended to have a national role through the improvement of the theological education of the Scottish clergy. “

Much like the rest of St. Andrews, the Reformation in Scotland took its toll on St. Salvator’s chapel and college. For one, the chapel (seen above) was stripped of all its Gothic glory by the fervent Protestants. The building used to be far more ornate, but its statues, saints and Biblical figures were torn from the building’s exterior and interior by the Reformers.

Another somber reminder of the religious strife in St. Andrews can be found just a few feet outside of the main entrance gates of the St. Salvator’s Quad. Beneath the Bell Tower lays the initials of Patrick Hamilton in colored cobblestones. Hamilton was a 24-year-old student who was burnt at the stake for his Protestant loyalty. Hamiliton is considered the “First Martyr of the Reformation” (damn it, he beat me to it!).

Students even today believe walking on his initials to be extremly bad luck and will cause the person to fail their exams (I carefully stepped around the stones – I got a Masters degree to finish, thank you).

Behind St. Salvator College is the St. Salvator Residence Hall, which looks nothing like the residence halls I lived and worked in, I assure you.

I then continued onwards to other random university buildings, most of which were closed because I decided to come to St. Andrews on a Saturday in the summer. I did find the music hall – Younger Hall – and admire its Baroque architecture. Younger Hall is where many degree-giving ceremonies are held.

Below is an insignia above the gates of St. Mary’s College, the School of Divinity. St. Mary’s was founded by Archbishope Beaton, who was murdered by the Protestants during the Scottish Reformation, as we learned earlier.

Unfortunately, St. Mary’s was closed and the gates were locked, so I was unable to see the quad area, which I read was quite picturasque.

Feeling slight defeated, I wandered down to the Long Pier to partake in the traditional Sunday Walk. On Sunday early afternoons after church, students of St. Andrews University in their scarlet robes take the time-honored walk to the end of the pier and back. This has been a tradition for many many years; I was happy to participate in it myself.

St. Andrews, In Ruins

On July 6, I took an early morning Citylink bus to St. Andrews, a small town of 14,000 located on the eastern shore of the Kingdom of Fife, known for its superior university and as the birthplace of golf. Surprisingly, it was only a 2 hour-something trip from Edinburgh, and a very scenic trip at that.

When I arrived in St. Andrews, it was very easy to get my bearings of the town as St. Andrews only has three streets that run the length of the town: North, Market and South Street. At one end of the town is the coast and St. Andrews Cathedral, and at the other end the Old Course. In between is an archipelago of various university buildings, cobblestone streets, narrow closes, and pubs.

I immediately proceded to St. Andrews Castle (or rather, the ruins of St. Andrews Castle) on the northern shore to beat the afternoon crowds. St. Andrews Castle is a rather important piece of real estate for religion in Scotland. St. Andrews Castle, built in the 13th Century, served as the home to the archbishops of St. Andrews, the ecclesiastical center of Scotland.

Since I never leave home without The Rough Guide to Scotland (seriously, Rough Guide travel books are the best - I know other people are particular to Lonely Planet and Fommers, but I swear by Rough Guides!), I learned quite a bit about the castle’s history and fall. The main event that happened within the castle walls took place during the Scottish Reformation. In 1546, Protestant preacher George Wishart was imprisoned and burned at the stake in front of the castle. Cardinal Beaton, whom lived in the castle and stood idly by as Wishart was burned at the stake, was then murdered and the castle seiged. The castle then became home of the first Protestant congregation in Scotland.

However, it was short-lived as the Scottish Regent then ordered the castle to be taken back into the hands of the (Catholic) Scots. But the castle was a strong fortress (I know the ruined pictures don’t give the impression that it was, but trust me on this) so the Scots had to tunnel underneath it from below the cliffs it rested on, with the hope the tunnel would collapse in the castle’s walls.

So the Scots started to mine underneath the castle, and did so undetected for a few weeks. But then the Protestants caught wind and started a countermine to intercept the Scots before they could collapse the castle walls. They met halfway underneath the castle and while the Protestants won that round, the Scots eventually won back St. Andrew’s Castle, though during the final seige the castle was all by destroyed. No matter, because the Scottish Reformation eventually succeeded and the office of the bishop was abolished by William of Orange, so the Scots didn’t need a castle to house the archbishop anyways.

A happy ending for everyone, right?

The best part of visiting the castle is that you can actually go down the mine and countermine. The tunnel mines, which runs through the length of the castle, is only about 3 feet high (mind your heads) and was carved out of solid rock.

While in ruins, the castle still makes for a beautiful sight atop the cliffs looking out over the North Sea. Most of the exterior walls are still relatively intact, too, so you can get a good idea of the shape and largess of the castle was until the 16th Century. Most of its original stones were used to build the harbor of St. Andrews after it fell to ruin. Good recycling.

After I visited the disappointing St. Andrews Castle Museum (save yourself 10 minutes and skip it), I proceded down North Street towards the (also in ruins) St. Andrews Cathedral.

The cathedral, once the largest cathedral in Scotland, stood from the 12th Century until the Reformation, when supporters of John Knox plundered the cathedral in 1559. According to the legend, St. Rule, who was the guardian of St. Andrew’s bones, was instructed by an angel to bring the bones from Patras in southern Greece (where St. Andrews was killed) to the “western edge of the world” and build a city there in St. Andrew’s honor. On his journey, St. Rule was shipwrecked on the eastern shore of Scotland, and he immediately went to work building a shrine to St. Andrews – the cathedral.

You can climb (via countless narrow, spiral staircases) St. Rule’s Tower, which offers stunning views of St. Andrews, the North Sea, and the rolling hills of Fife.

After taking a pause at the top of the tower, I returned back to earth, just in time to catch a (free!) theatrical performance from this gentleman in tights will the quill pen, who recounted the night that the cathedral was destroyed by Knox supporters:

After his 20 minute interactive performance, I headed back down North Street to the Old Course. While golf does not whip me into an excitable frenzy, I have to admit the Old Course is a beautiful piece of real estate.

[ This concludes the first half of my trip to St. Andrews. To read about my visit to the University of St. Andrews, please continue to the following post, The Auld University Tour Series: University of St. Andrews. Thank you. - Staff ]

Renaissance

Rejoice, rejoice! I am out of the doldrums and the skip is back in my step!

The conference of historical economics professors departed around noon today. The house staff and I then raced to prepare all the rooms for the incoming 80 students from University of Southern Mississippi, who were arriving just a short few hours after the last conference participant walked out the door.

After the house was cleaned up and ready, the two stagecoach buses full of students arrived. Earlier in the afternoon I was wondering to myself how I was going to muster the energy to handle this group. I was left absolutely knackered from the economics conference, not to mention a little emotionally bruised from their utter lack of respect. Also, I was a little concerned that the house just could not take another large group – my poor palace was left a little battered from the past week.

However, once those buses pulled up and the 80 wide-eyed students got out, I felt my energy restored almost instantly. Their excitement to be here really made me snap out of my rut. They looked at the palace with such awe and they are so curious to know the history of the house and about Edinburgh… It was nice to see Scotland through their eyes again and remind myself what does not need reminding: I’m really, really lucky.

Tonight I organized an estate tour and shared with the students all the interesting things I’ve learned about the house and surrounding 850 acres in the last few months. We visited the “hairy coos” (Highland cows), the stables, the Orangery, and Montague Bridge while enjoying the Midlothian evening breeze.

I think I will spend the rest of the evening on the front porch with a well-earned cuppa and a good book.

Cinderella, Cinderella

I have some good news and some bad news.

The good news is I don’t feel mopey anymore! Thank you for all the cheer up messages. They made my heart warm like a mug of hot cocoa on a rainy Scottish day.

The bad news is I don’t feel mopey anymore because I am too busy to pout!

Currently in the manor is a group of 120-140 (I lose track) of historical economics professors for a conference on… well, historical economics (here are some riveting titles from their conference sessions: “A Sectorial Analysis of Anglo-Indian Productivity Differences, 1870-2000,” “Procyclical TFP and the Cyclicality of Growth in Output per Hour” and “Marine Insurance in Philadelphia during the French and Indian War, 1755-1759″).

The conference participants have come from all over the world in their tweed jackets to attend this conference. Some are staying as residents of the house in our accommodation rooms (about 40) but the bulk are just in during the day for the conference and meals. The house is insanely busy and to say this group is high maintenance is, well, being very generous.

As the Director is on holiday, I am the commander in chief. What a way to test my leadership, logistical, customer service, and management skills, right? I am responsible for the facilities, guests, catering operations, cleaning staff and house while the Director is away. Of course, I have assistance from the Director of International Education from a Wisconsin college (who flew here with his lovely wife to pitch in this week but has made it clear that I am in charge, which I am very grateful for!), and the chef Henry who has been helping me keep my sanity this week and of course is heading up the catering business.

I’ve spent the last three days telling people over and over and over where the toilets are (heaven forbid they look at their maps or the directional signs on the wall!), responding to lock-outs at 2 and 3 a.m. from those returning late from the pub, cleaning up coffee cups, lunch trays, wine spills, half-eaten sandwiches left on the marble tables, and trash from all over the house after every meal, listening to 10,000 complaints (“There isn’t enough coffee!” “You should have told us to bring power adaptors!”, “The wireless isn’t working!”), helping the chef set up after meals, and making copies, fetching staplers, fixing printers (or pretending to jab at it), and running the reception desk…

I don’t understand why they all think they are too good to throw away their own coffee cups or to clean up after themselves, but I have been on my hands and knees scrubbing a coffee stain off the marble floor and someone will just throw their dirty napkin on the floor next to me and walk off! I’ve never seen such rudeness! I’ve not received one “thank you” even after running all their errands, making last-minute copies for them because they have forgotten to do it at home before arriving even though they were told to, picking up their trash, fetching them extra pillows and blankets, and serving them breakfast every morning. I literally have been at their beck and call around the clock and … I’m just a little tired.

I find it worth mentioning that these are history professors who can remember countless dates and minute details about [grabs conference schedule] tariffs, grain prices, and the Trade Boards Act of 1909, but cannot remember their manners or a simple 4-digit housecode. Go figure!

I know I sound like I am whinging (whining in non-Brit speak!), but really, I just find their behavior humorous and fascinating. And if nothing else, like I always say, they have provided me with some great stories to tell!

They leave tomorrow BUT just a few hours after they leave a group of 80 college students from Southern Mississippi arrive for a few days. I am looking forward to the new group – apparently they are great fun and to be fair, college students are my preferred clientele!

And most importantly, I think I’ve done a pretty good job of keeping this place afloat and providing great customer service. I have been nothing but accommodating and sweet to the guests (though sometimes I swear under my breath when their backs are turned) and thanks to the assistance of the staff things have gone pretty smoothly (they are saints!). If their biggest complaint is there is not enough coffee, then I think things are going pretty alright!

I do have a new-found respect for people in the hospitality and food service industry, though. I always have, but now I really understand what they put up with day in and day out! Waitstaff of the world, I salute you!

The Doldrums

Blerg.  Another series of dispirited days. (See above)

It ebbs and flows, but I can tell I am in a low period in my sojourn.  It’s natural to experience a few lows here and there, even if you are living in a beautiful palace in Scotland and doing work you love to bits and pieces.  I feel guilty for being so languid, but I must obey the laws of cultural adjustment just like every one else.

So I will allow myself to pout and mourn for a few days and then I will brush myself off and get back to my summer adventures with unbridled enthusiasm once again.

I first noticed I was entering the doldrums stage when I reached the conclusion that I needed a haircut (usually when I decide I need a haircut, it becomes an all-consuming quest until fulfilled).  A haircut is not an extraordinary task to achieve… when you know where to get a haircut.  Or when you know with confidence that you can communicate what needs to be cut where and how.  Or when you know it’s not costing 2x what you would pay in the States for someone to trim a quarter-of-an-inch of hair.  It’s been a few weeks since I recognized and admitted I need a haircut and the issue is still unresolved.  I think I will just need to bite the bullet and spend the £30 on a dang haircut.

There are a few other minor frustrations (like craving decent Mexican food and impossible time zone differences) that alone would be tolerable.  But coupled together with the fact that my beloved students just left and every emotion is e-x-a-c-e-r-b-a-t-e-d.

ANYWAYS

I made a short list of things that might comfort me and help me cheer up, buttercup. It includes

• Getting a haircut (seems obvious, right?)
• Playing piano and/or guitar
• Reading Harry Potter (I now own all 7 UK versions!)
  
• Writing letters to friends and family
• Making a list of everything I l-o-v-e about Scotland
• Riding a bike around the estate
• Fantasizing about owning a  Canon Rebel camera (or a grown ups camera) one day
• Blogging more (I still have to regale you all about St. Andrews and Oxford!)
• Calling Aly relentlessly until I get ahold of her (she is a slippery eel)
• LOL Cats
• Spending more time with Patty and Nat
• Working extra hard this week and bringing on my best professional game

I also think it is important to not focus on what I have not or cannot accomplish here and instead focus on what I have and can.  I remind myself now that I have traveled from Scotland to Portugal with ease like I was  Magellan.  And if I can do all that, then well, I am sure I can find a hair salon and a good burrito.

I don’t want to just wallow in melancholy-ness so I will be pro-active in find a way to get past this lull.  Transatlantic phone calls, mail, mix tapes, e-mails, pictures of fluffy animals, anecdotes, and warm thoughts could not hurt, either.  Just saying.

Palace Fever

Today was not my favorite day.  I woke up this morning in what can only be described as a melancholy mood, likely prompted by a lack of continuous sleep, the imminent departure of the students, frustrations with a certain individual (She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named), and the fact that my left contact lens has turned against me and is now terrorizing my eye. My eye has been watering off-and-on all day, making it difficult to distinguish which tears are the result of eye irritation and which are tears of emotional irritation.

Like I said, today has not been my favorite day.

The highlight of my day today was the bowl of tomato soup and wheat roll I had for lunch. As much as I love soup and carbs, when you are living in Europe and you specify soup as the best part of your day, that’s a pretty crappy day.

I decided the solution to my morning grumpiness would be to get out of the palace for a few hours. I really need some new clothing (I know I say this often to justify shopping, but I really mean it now! I need some new white t-shirts after traveling to hot sweaty Spain, socks, and maybe a new work dress or two) and I planned to go to charity (thrift) shop row on Lothian Street in Edinburgh today, followed by a picnic on Calton Hill.

But that plan was nixxed pretty fast as the result of She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s insensitivity. I’ve now been on duty for five out of the past six days (on Saturday I took a day trip to St. Andrews, which I am purposefully not discussing here because I don’t want to contaminate the memory of that perfect day with my crankiness!) and I have cabin fever. Or perhaps more accurately, palace fever.

I’m now making a mental list of things that can pull me out of this sinkhole of self-loathing, frustration and cantankery. A brief but needed conversation with Ma and Chris definitely helped. I think I may retreat to the music room and play the piano or guitar for awhile and/or take a bike ride around the Estate, which has never failed to help remind me I am a very privileged person just for breathing the air here.

Thanks for listening. Ta-ra.