The Top Floor Flat

I’ve been less than 24 hours returned from my trip to Scotland – including St Andrews, the birthplace of golf and current hometown of a high school friend, and Edinburgh.  There are places you can visit and trips you can experience that are so incredibly different from everyday life that you can’t help but understand the experience in a new way.  Maybe this is why you return from some trips so refreshed – it’s a shock treatment of sorts, allowing you to rest one part of your brain and use another for a vastly different experience than the ordinary.  I had this sensation during my trips to Austria, to Wales and now to Scotland (while Paris and Barcelona, which amazing in their own way, still had the very distinct feeling of being in a big city with lots of urban and international populations like London). In Scotland, I was far removed from the busy city life and pollution of the city, and exposed to the clean, cold North Sea air in picturesque towns and to be entirely honest, I can say that given the option I might not have gone back to London at all.

St. Andrews is about an hour north of Edinburgh by train.  Part of the reason I was so drawn to the town, I think, were the many comparisons I was able to make between St. Andrews (and St. Andrews university) and Waterville and Colby College where I went to school.  Both isolated, beautiful campuses with an incredibly clever student population, a landscape prefered by wealthy tourists, an hour or so north from the next big town, right up at the top of the world.

The first evening of my visit to St. Andrews, I attended a ball with my friend Kathryn and her friends at school.  I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect – even my experiences of formal dances at school more closely resembled a drunken club night than a regency era ball.  Of course, the St. Andrews ball was all together different again and was less a ball than a traditional ceilidh (pronounced kay-lee), a Scottish gathering and dancing event that features a number of partner and group dances not at all unlike Western line dancing (in fact one of the dances at the ceilidh was the Virginia Reel!).  Despite the presence of high heels and dresses, we all danced through the entire ball and didn’t begin to make our way back to Kathryn’s house until 1am.

The next morning after a bit of a lie in, I got up to begin exploring the town of St. Andrews.  I had been warned by Kathryn that there wasn’t a huge amount to see but after breakfast I made my way down to the St. Andrews castle, a seaside stone ruin overlooking craigy cliffs.  The entrance price was steep and the entire castle visible (due to a lack of southern wall) from the road so instead of exploring the castle, I instead made my way to the (also ruined) cathedral.

It was wonderful to imagine what this building must have been like in its heyday – only two enormous pilars of stone remained to mark the height and majesty of the cathedral walls.  Now the entire area is given over to a graveyard and is a rather eerie but beautiful tribute to St. Andrews architectual and personal history.

I next walked along the beach around to a southern point of town, enjoying the wonderful weather and views.  The morning passed quickly and by midafternoon, I felt I had a good grasp on St. Andrews’ layout and made my way to the centre of town – along with just about everyone else in the city – to watch the annual parade in honour of famous St. Andrews University alum and notable former residents of the town. Elaborately dressed up men and women of the university paraded through town disguised as Mary, Queen of Scotts and John Cleese among many others.

After the parade, it was time for a stroll down to the beach, an ice cream and a late afternoon pint before returning back to Kathryn’s house to relax before dinner.  I had hoped to try some haggis while in Scotland but when it came time for a meal, I baulked at the local delicacy and decided to go for the steak and Guinness pie (like a hearty beef stew with a flaky pastry on top) as a local-but-tasty alternative.  Oh well, there will always be other opportunities for haggis.

The next morning I was going to be leaving for Edinburgh mid morning, allowing myself some time to explore the city before catching my flight home but my last stop off at St. Andrews had to be the famous 18th hole on the world’s oldest golf course.  Golf was, of course, invented at St. Andrews and it wouldn’t have been right to leave without admiring the green.  It was a wonderful few days and although it is unlikely I’ll go back (Kathryn graduates in a few weeks) I can’t speak highly enough of Scotland.  Stay tuned for review and pictures of my time in Edinburgh.