First Impressions

Well I've made it, safe and sound. Scouring the narratives of my fellow
travelers in preparation for my arrival was perhaps unnecessary, since I
have travelled in the UK before and they did not impart anything I did not
already know. I was aware of the initial culture shock. I had seen the
small cars on the wrong side of the driveway-sized roads and I had used the
public toilets one must pay for.

However, nothing could have prepared me for what, having been in Edinburgh
for a week, I am now beginning to realize is the truly adventurous part of
this experience. That is, after a year here, this new culture will cease to
be new and instead be normal. That is the reason why nothing I read was
worthwhile beyond its immediate factual
reward: none of the writers warned me about the real trial, that I must and
will become accustomed to Scottish culture and unaccustomed to American
culture. That is a huge part of me that will change. Of course I know I am
ready for it so I will stop complaining, but I will say that discovering and
getting used to these changes has been frustrating at times. Did you know
that you need your ticket, not only to get onto the platforms at a major
Scottish train station, but that you need it to get off of the platforms?
Nope, neither did I. I almost had to buy another ticket to get out of the
station! Luckily, I got back on the train and got my ticket off of my seat
before the train left. I still don't understand the reason for that one.

Here is one comment about the differences between Scotland and America. In
America, there is an abundance of land. Because we have lots of room, the
scale of living is large and land use planning is relatively untethered by
spatial concerns. It doesn't matter where in the large open field your
house goes because you have a large open field to build it on. This is not
so in Scotland. Large open fields like this rarely exist and if they do,
there are usually one of two problems with it. First, it has probably
already been used in the past and you must not only clear the land, but also
decide what to do with the ruins of some old farmer's shed from hundreds of
years ago that is right where you would want to put a garden. Second, the
field itself is probably of the strangest dimensions, perhaps an acute
triangle, so that you only have one side of the property that you can build
your house on anyway. It has probably reached this strange shape because of
old property divisions and roads that were built diagonally through a parent
field long ago and things of this sort.

Because of all of these restrictions and the dearth of virgin space, there
is a sort of economy to the landscape. Every space is used.
Buildings of the strangest shapes are often scrunched into spaces where, in
America, we might decide to put a bush and some flowers. In the city, where
there is space that is unusable for construction, gaps are made into
alleyways, or "closes," that wind between buildings so close together you
could touch the sides if you spread your arms, but which the Scottish have
decided is a perfectly good place to park a car and even to have a major
hotel face into.

With all of these feats of improvised engineering, not to mention the superb
condition in which the ancient buildings of Edinburgh have been preserved
and modernized, the city is truly magnificent. There are some modern
additions that are terribly dull, such as the disappointing David Hume
Tower, but otherwise these mostly corporate upgrades have been tasteful and
in keeping with local aesthetics.

There are two long dead volcanoes in the city, which are now no more than
large hills. On one sits the Castle and on the other is a park called
Holyrood which has a famous summit called Arthur's Seat.
Connecting the two is an avenue called the Royal Mile. I live next to a
spectacular building called the Old College of Edinburgh, just off of the
Royal Mile. Climbing Arthur's Seat the other day with a group of students
from the International Students Office, I could see the Old College from the
top, with its large dome crowned by a glittering golden man holding the
flame of knowledge, perfectly aligned with the famous buildings of the Royal
mile, the Castle perched majestically behind. To the East was the Sea and
West spread the lowland country.
The view was epic, or as the British would say "well good." From somewhere
in the city below, the sound of a bag pipe reached my ears.
That's no lie.

Today marks the end of the first week of my adventure in Edinburgh, and the
sun has come out for the occasion. I have seen a person casually or
formally wearing a kilt everyday so far, including a wedding procession
where all of the men wore black kilts. I have seen the famous, perhaps
infamous, Scottish drinking culture and witnessed what I hope are not its
heights and what I fear are not its depths. I have met people from all over
the world, from my Australian neighbors to my Bulgarian roommate. I have
cooked myself dinner. And yes, it was edible. I have survived so far and
the future looks bright.

Sitting on this sunny bench in the Meadows, a large public park just behind
the University, I am watching all of the people who have turned out to enjoy
the good weather. A group of young boys are jumping off of a low-lying ledge
practicing Parkour. Behind me, there is a long haired gentlemen wearing a
long black robe carrying and absolutely massive sword. He is running for is
life through an ultimate Frisbee game from a girl who is roaring like a
monster and clamping her arms open and shut like the jaws of a crocodile.
Nearby, a violinist and a dread-headed flautist are playing a jig while some
hippies dance in skirts on the grass. They look happy, unlike the grim
faces I have seen since I arrived. Why so suddenly the jubilation? Perhaps
the sun has caused such behavior: it has been raining nonstop all week.

It is strange here. But I think I like it. More next time.