Last night, I stayed up late finishing a paper (which I didn’t actually finish,) and wrote “write BLOG trip faucets classes food hiking” on a greasy sandwich bag that I left on my desk as a reminder to update this thing with all my Scottish-happenings instead of just my feelings. I will listen to its demands because day-by-day travel accounts are boring, but probably not in moderation, and after another two-week stretch, I have a lot of details spinning and sloshing around in my mind, begging to be recorded.
So, hiking: I originally planned to heed the holy topic order of the sandwich bag list, but today’s hike was so weird and surreal that it deserves first place. I’ve mentioned Arthur’s Seat several times and I’ve only really specified what it is in a very early post: it’s an extinct volcano behind my apartment. I’ve begun to hike it almost every day, and despite today’s rain, LaMarcus Ford II, ’14 and Biology major, and I decided climb it anyway. Its peak was hidden in a low cloud and although it’s usually crowded, it was completely deserted, and the mist was so thick that I could only see about ten feet (or three meters, hoho) in every direction. I balanced my umbrella on my shoulder and found a route reminiscent of Frodo and Sam’s climb up Mount Doom (LM can be Sam for the purpose of this visual,) and it was strange, to say the least, to hear sirens and city sounds, but to peer off the edge into a flat, white abyss without any features or depth or clues as to what was beyond it. I knew there were two other peaks to my right, and one to my left, and I knew the direction of the Edinburgh Castle, and the direction of the North Sea, but all of these usual suspects were completely consumed by the cloud and I felt like I were dropped into some bizarre dream or that I were plastered in the background of some Salvador Dali’s portrait. It’s one of the most weirdly and intrinsically beautiful things I’ve seen yet. Because of the rain, I didn’t bring my camera, but I’ll provide a phone picture below that won’t do its eeriness justice. Two days ago, LM and I found a goat trail where we actually had to vertically climb instead of use a path, which was a lot of fun. A bearded Scottish man, dressed in flannel, suddenly appeared on a parallel peak to us as we climbed, and promised to “spot us” before disappearing again. I’m halfway convinced (not really) that he was a visual manifestation of the mountain’s spirit, or something. The world may never know!
How the view from the top normally looks
…and how it looked today
Moving on, in order: I went on another day trip with the Pomona Program to Linlithgow and Stirling. This was the trip I was least looking forward to, because it’s only an hour away, and I therefore (somehow) decided it wasn’t exotic enough. Needless to say (as I’ve already prepared you with this lead-up,) I already loved it by our first stop, which was Linlithgow Palace. I’ll preface this by saying that later on, we visited Stirling Castle, which was fully-renovated, complete with refurbished wood carvings, intricate tapestries, and detailed, painted ceilings. People in full costume wandered in and out of the rooms, juggling and teaching us Medieval Scottish dances. Despite this fanciness, I still preferred Linlithgow, which is surprising because it, in contrast, was free, empty, roofless, and cold. As I explored the little hallways, I stumbled upon uneven staircases and giant fireplaces and great windows facing the water. Sometimes, you read a book or you visit a place or you run your hand across a wall, and it just speaks to you, I guess. I found myself halfway up a tower in an unmarked room, which was about 5×5 feet with a low ceiling, and I sat on its bench and wondered what it was used for and who, before me, peeked out its little window. When we visited its Cathedral, two men working there not only encouraged us to take pictures (a first,) but they were eager to show us around and explain little wall markings I would have never noticed on my own. It was a cold day, and it always threatened to rain, although it never really did. We also stopped at the Falkirk Wheel, two Roman ruins (all the way up North here!) and a little bakery and sandwich shop.
The bag now tells me to speak of faucets. I don’t have to tell you, but for the sake of comparison, American faucets include a single spout and some type of knob or button-system or switch which can be hot, or cold, or warm, or whatever you want! Scottish (and British) sinks are no such luxury: they feature two faucets each, one specifically for hot water and the other for cold, and they rest like star-crossed lovers at opposite ends of the basin. Someone, please, give them what they want and allow them to reunite! I find myself either freezing or burning my hands, and efforts to combine the two via cupped palms splashing together only results in a lot of water loss and the same problems I originally had, just concurrently. I mention this not as a complaint (well, kind of) but as a note that sometimes I’ve overlooked little inconsistencies in this big-abroad thing, but together, like some giant green patchwork, they’ve defined Scotland for me better than the castles themselves.
Image taken from Google, but behold!
Classes are still interesting content-wise, but are getting weirder by the second. Grades here are based upon 1-2 assessments, which count for the entire semester, and that prospect is horrifying. Before I started the aforementioned essays, I read over the question choices, and I am endlessly confused by the expectation of, for instance, writing a compare/contrast expository Philosophy paper, as that is something I’ve never been presented with at Pomona, and I don’t think I will be again. Speaking with my professor about this in office hours, he slowly rose from his chair, stepped into the far corner of the room, and continued talking from afar, seemingly terrified, which I still don’t understand.
My favorite foods here come from the bakeries (surprise, surprise.) There’s a Polish Market on my way to class that sets a basket by the door for poppy seed-liqueur rolls, and I can peek through the glass as I walk by to see if they’re sold out (they usually are.) In addition, sparkly donuts are popular here (really, they literally have edible glitter in their glaze!) Other highlights: the expensive yet irresistible London Fog (tea) and chocolate money which come in Pounds instead of quarters and dollars. I make most of my food on my own, in my apartment. Despite never having cooked before, I am fairly impressed with myself! I’ve spent the past two summers at Pomona, and I practically lived off of peanut butter Pita and apples, so my new gusto for cooking has surprised me and my parents both. Some of my favorite recipes so far include tomato udon, salted-caramel hot chocolate, homemade four-cheese pepper sauce, and cinnamon and nutmeg French Toast. Failures include peanut butter hot chocolate and “The Pizza and Salad Crepe.” Despite my (self-proclaimed) kitchen flair, nearly everything I make falls apart. In the case of the crepe, this is because I forgot to add an egg, but the bread is generally much more crumbly here (sample size: four brands.) I feel like Masaharu Morimoto would glance at my dishes and cry, because my presentation looks almost scary as I scrape its remains from the bottom of my pan, but it’s good and I won’t pay mind to his tears!
