Let's Hear it for the Girl!

First off, I am doing incredibly well! I fall more in love with this city every day. I love that it has the perks of a big city (good bus system, museums, castles, restaurants etc.), yet there are lots of outdoorsy things to do as well (Arthur’s Seat, The Meadows, and the coast). I am starting to feel comfortable here, and I haven’t gotten lost all week!

Last weekend I went to stay with a Scottish family for a homestay as part of my program. We drove about an hour north, and it was nice to get out into the country. It was amazing! We explored the ruins of Tolquhon castle and visited the coast (both pictured). It was a wonderful weekend, and I just made me fall more in love with this place!


The next question I’m sure you are thinking is, “So what are Scottish people like?” I am still not sure how to answer. I think that, much like the U.S., it is impossible to make sweeping generalizations. What are Americans like? We certainly have stereotypes, but we do not all fall into them. There are differences in individuals, but just like in the U.S. you will find all kinds of people. People who do their homework and those who don’t, people who drink too much and people who don’t, people who play bagpipes and those who don’t, well, maybe you won’t find many people in the states that play bagpipes, but the point still stands! Each culture has its tendencies, but I think all inclusive generalizations are limiting.



Before I get to my latest ridiculous story, I wanted to shares some of my observations about Scotland. I actually wrote this in paragraph form, and then I got nervous about the assumptions and assertions I was making. So I am merely listing observations I have made, in no particular order. You may reach your own conclusions

10 Observations from the Week
1. Students pay less than $2,000 a year to attend the University of Edinburgh. Scottish students pay nothing.
2. They love youtube just as much as we do!
3. Skipping multiple classes is a weekly occurrence for many students. If the lecturer is bad, no point in going, the notes are online.
4. They don’t use peanut butter in desserts. I made candy buckeyes, which were a hit!
5. People here are much more laid back. They don’t jam pack their schedules. Students aren’t stressed about job loss or unemployment.
6. Students don’t stop showing up until about 10-15 minutes into class.
7. There was a flyer on my door with a picture of Jesus advertising for “midnight mass” at Faith. Though I am not catholic, I picked it up out of curiosity, maybe it was a new church I could try... It was an advert for a nightclub. Many of the old churches are being turned into nightclubs. Then I noticed that, in the flyer, Jesus was wearing headphones.


8. Hairpins are very expensive (about $1.50 for 25). Sweatshirts are very cheap (about $15).
9. Magazines and TV shows much more skin than ours.
10. If a citizen needed open-heart surgery tomorrow, it would be completely free. However, it’s hard to find a doctor that really takes the time to treat patients with quality.

With that said, some things never change, no matter where you go. Grant House set off the fire alarm for the fourth time since I’ve been here at 2am this week while I was dead asleep. While I was fussy and cold, I was glad to know that some things are cross-cultural. Now for my latest challenge!

“You really have to look inside yourself and find your own inner strength, and say, "I'm proud of what I am and who I am, and I'm just going to be myself."
- Mariah Carey.

Sounds cheeky to me, no offense Mariah. But what does that really mean? How does one even “look inside” oneself? I think she was trying to capture a feeling I experienced last weekend. First, let me note that I have never been on a train, nor have I ever been in a train station. However, I am traveling to Liverpool, England in 3 weeks… by train… you see my dilemma. As much as I hate to admit it I didn’t want to touch that with a 39 ½ foot pole. After my toothpick fiasco I must admit I was a bit jaded with “doing things on my own”, but I had to get a ticket.

Then, one morning last week I woke up feeling a bit cocky. Later that day I marched my little American self into Waverly Station to purchase a ticket and defeat my fear of the unknown. Mind you I have no idea how, let alone where, to buy a ticket. But never mind that, I was on a mission! Now the trick to acting like you know what the heck is going on is to strut your stuff with confidence! Waverly station is a large square, and after “strutting my stuff” around the square about three or four times (I think the locals on the benches were catching on to my charade), I finally spotted the ticket window. I took a number (yeah, I figured that one out all by myself too!) and pranced to my seat, completely convinced that I could do anything.

(Don't worry I didn't take this picture, it would have ruined my entire act. Thank you google images!)

My defense mechanism of parading about like the Queen of Scots herself no longer needed (it’s hard to flounce sitting down), I realized that I suddenly had to use the loo. Apparently my circling Waverly station had acted as some sort of internal rain dance. Hmm… no good. I was number 68 and the boisterous Scottish man behind the counter had only just called 53. Was risking my well-earned place in line worth the promise of a toilet? Realizing that I could always take another number should mine be passed, I gave up the safety of my seat to enter the ruthless herd of the train station once again. I sauntered around the square three more times and finally located my holy grail… Only to discover, much to my annoyance, that one can charge for even the most basic needs in life. I fought between my desire to combat injustice and my pressing need to use the bathroom, NOW…. I chose to fight the man some other time.

After my slight interruption, I flew back to the ticket window, only making one lap around the station this time! I leapt into a seat, as the man from behind the counter called number 54, apparently I hadn’t missed much. I sat there for a few moments relishing the moment, as I closed in for the kill on my afternoon of great success. As I waited for my number to be called, the overhead speakers played an old favorite… “Let’s hear it for the boy. Let’s give the boy a hand.” I smiled to myself, then frowned… Forget the boy; let’s hear it for the girl! And in that moment I realized that you really have to look inside yourself and find your own inner strength, and say, I'm proud of what I am and who I am.

Have a wonderful week!
Katy