Days 298-301: Cluj

It's been a whirlwind few days. The weekend in Cluj was one of the weirdest and most wonderful experiences of my life. Weird, because a year ago I never would have imagined I'd be spending a weekend in Romania with a group of students from around the world. Wonderful, because the experience of doing something so out of the ordinary gave me a real sense of freedom and the joy of simply existing.

Rather than wax awkwardly philosophical on the benefits of travel, I'll give you some more concrete observations about Romania, since the average western reader likely won't know much about this country. 

While it's not a rich country, Romania is actually known as a medium-high income country on a global scale, meaning that the quality of living isn't all that different from what we'd experience in the west. While shops and restaurants are generally cheaper, many of the same items and brand names are available. My western clothing doesn't look out of place and neither does my iPad. (Also, I must say, my host family's house in Suceava is way nicer than mine in either Canada or Scotland, so I by no means want to give the impression that all Romanians are poor, because the flat screen tv in my guest room definitely says otherwise...)

At the same time, it's still obvious the country isn't rich. The sidewalk is often cracked and the roads are potholed. Many of the buildings are covered in graffiti and need a new coats of paint. There's a fair bit of litter, and smoking is extremely common. Most of the nicer houses are surrounded by metal fences and electric gates. 

On Saturday afternoon, we visited a church near our hostel and chatted with the caretaker for a minute. We asked him if he had ever been to Scotland, and he just sort of laughed and said it was far too much money. This really changed my perspective-- to have a middle aged man admit that he couldn't afford to pay for the flight which I thought was so cheap. To say that he didn't have enough money to stay in Scotland, when I managed to pay rent for a year in one of Scotland's most expensive towns. That an established adult had less disposable income than I do. 

Because of the income difference, our weekend in Cluj felt like living like royalty. We could afford to eat out multiple times a day at the best restaurants in town while paying less than we would at a fish and chips place in the UK. We could buy earrings at the midsummer market or pretzels from the streetside stand, because even 10 Lei was still pocket change to us. 

It was so amazingly freeing and fun... and yet, somewhat unsettling. I've never been so comparatively rich, and I'm not quite sure how to deal with the feeling.

And I said I wouldn't wax philosophical in this blog post. Whoops!

Days 109-118: Christmas in Nottingham

Nottingham as viewed from the castle

I have to admit that I didn't know what to expect from my stay in Nottingham. I was staying with my great aunt and uncle (on my dad's side) who I had only met once before when I was just 12. It was also my first Christmas away from home, and I was worried that homesickness (which hadn't hit that hard so far) might be more of a problem once it finally sunk in that I wouldn't be with my family over Christmas. 

In the end, though, I had an absolutely lovely time. I got along really well with my great aunt and uncle and I enjoyed getting to know them better (I have to say that, since they're probably reading this blog, but it's true!) They took such good care of me-- four course breakfasts, anyone?-- and had new sightseeing plans every day. After the stress of exams, a busy but relaxing Christmas was exactly what I needed. There was plenty to do, but also lots of time for sitting in the living room reading or watching telly (like the Doctor Who Christmas special- so many tears!)

Probably the best way to describe my stay is to go over it day by day:

Auntie Diana and I with Robin Hood

Friday the 20th
Shopping in Nottingham. I was introduced to John Lewis (an upmarket department store) and taken to Waterstones (a bookstore) where Uncle Paul invited me to choose any book I wanted for a Christmas present. In true English-nerd fashion, I choose the facsimile of the original drafts of T. S. Eliot's 'The Wasteland.' We also said hi to my pal Robin Hood where he stands outside Nottingham castle.

Saturday the 21st

Newstead Abbey, the home of Lord Byron

In a day of contrasts, uncle Paul and I first visited D. H. Lawrence's humble birthplace (he was the son of a coal manner) before touring Newstead Abbey, which was originally a 13th century monastery before it was sold to the Byron family, the last of which was the famous poet Lord Byron. It was neat to see two such different sides of Nottingham's literary history.

Sunday the 22nd
I got to meet my dad's two cousins and their kids (my second cousins? My cousins once removed? I dunno...) on a family trip to Calke Abbey, a stately home out in the countryside. While I preferred Newstead Abbey, it was lovely to meet my extended family, and we all had a great time shepherding the kids around.

Monday the 23rd 

Lincoln Cathedral

After picking up the Christmas turkey from Mark's and Spencer's (which was a proper British experience, involving queuing for nearly an hour) we took off for Lincoln cathedral to meet some friends of mine from back home. These friends are British originally, but they've been living in Canada, ten minutes from my parent's house, for the past five years. Back in Britain for Christmas, they had brought some presents from my family (TIM HORTON'S CAPPUCCINO POWDER!!!!) and had offered to take some gifts back from me for my family.
Aside from the gift exchange, it was really nice to see some familiar faces and to spend some time together exploring the cathedral. The sheer oldness of these English buildings never ceases to amaze me; I just don't understand how buildings as absolutely magnificent as those cathedrals could have been built almost 800 years ago.

Tuesday the 24th
Uncle Paul and aunty Diana took me on a family tour of Nottingham, stopping at all the places that they had lived, and showing me where my great grandmother lived for a few years. It was fascinating to hear about family history and to see how long Uncle Paul's family had been in Nottingham. 
We also went to the local church to see the bells and ended up staying for the Christingle service. To anyone who doesn't know what a Christingle is: google it. I'm not even going to try to explain. 

My Christingle and hymnal

Wednesday the 25th
Christmas was a relatively quiet day. We went to church in the morning and I got to bell-ring! My great aunt and uncle are bell-ringers at their parish church, so they took me up with them to watch. Then the head bell-ringer asked me if I'd like to try, so he helped me ring the fourth bell in a few 'rounds.' Definitely a Christmas highlight!
For the rest of the day, we ate excessive amounts of food, drank good wine, and watched what Britain had to offer in the way of Christmas telly (Call the Midwife, Doctor Who, and Downton Abbey). 

Thursday the 26th

Christmas Day Bell-Ringing

Boxing Day was similarly quiet, with one of my second cousins + family coming over for dinner. We are more food, drank more wine, and watched more telly. This time, we also had my very amusing second-cousin-once-removed (I'm gonna go with that) for entertainment. At 18 months, he was far more interested in his toy vacuum than in opening any new presents.

Friday the 27th
Since it was my final day in Nottingham, we had to pack in all the big things I hadn't seen yet, which, crucially, included Sherwood Forest. Had I been expecting the greenwood, with Robin Hood and his Merry Men feasting beneath, I would have been sorely disappointed. These days, after most of the huge trees were cut down for shipbuilding, the Forest is just like any other. However, a number of ancient trees do remain, including the Major Oak, which is supposedly 1000 years old.
We then went back to Nottingham (stopping at yet another country house for lunch and detouring through a 3 mile long road double-lined with lime trees) to visit the Castle, and, more importantly, the caves beneath. Nottingham rests on sandstone, so underneath the city is a complex network of caves, none more important than the ones beneath the castle keep, which allowed food to come in during sieges, or soldiers to sneak in intent on kidnapping a king. Nowadays they have a small section of these tunnels open on a guided tour, which was fascinating.

Climbing a tree in Sherwood Forest

Saturday the 28th
We all woke up bright and early so I could catch the 7:45 train to Newmarket, where I was staying with a friend from St. Andrews. On our way, uncle Paul recounted an amusing story where my uncle Mark had been staying with them some years earlier and had missed his train to London, meaning that uncle Paul ended up driving him half way to London to catch the train at the transfer. We had a good laugh over the story, but arrived at Nottingham station in a bit of a rush, just a few minutes before my train was scheduled to leave.
Now, I don't know if it was my fault, or the train station's fault, but we ended up waiting for my train at platform four, when we should have been at platform 3b. About two minutes before departure, we realized we were at the wrong platform. 30 seconds before departure we saw my train at platform 3b, which was about twenty feet away from us... across two sets of tracks. So we ran down the platform, climbed the stairs to cross over the tracks... and watched my train chug cheerfully away without me.

Auntie Diana and my little cousin

The most economical thing to do at this point would have been to wait for the next train (40 minutes later) and tell the conductor my sob story and hope he wouldn't make me buy another ticket. Instead, uncle Paul was wonderful and offered to drive me to Newmarket, an hour and a half away. I gratefully accepted his offer (thanks again, Uncle Paul!) and we set off for Newmarket, where we met my St. Andrew's friend, and a new chapter of my adventures began.


So. That was Nottingham. I really enjoyed my time there, both the company and the places we went, and I look forward to visiting again. My great aunt and uncle love gardening, so I plan to return in the summer, when everything will be in full bloom.

But for now, this post is long enough. I hope you've enjoyed the small selection of photos-- I have so many more, but no time to go through and edit them all!

Day 31: One Month!

A month ago today, to the hour in fact (and I mean the hour that I’m writing this, not posting it, because, you know, editing takes time), I arrived in St. Andrew’s.

It’s been a whirlwind ride. Life is only now finally fitting itself into a routine, and, for better or for worse, that routine actually involves a lot of school work. The first few weeks were like a vacation, but now I spend most of my time in my room hunched over a book. Things should get better in a few weeks, though, once my two major essays are handed in and I’ve written the Old English Vocabulary test.

 

(Old English Word of the Day: anfloga means “solitary flyer” and its only recorded use is in an elegy known as “The Seafarer.” I’m not quite sure why I love this word so much, but I think it’s because its flowing sound captures both the sadness and beauty of being alone.)

I realized the other day that being here for one month means that I have already lived through a 9^th of my time in Scotland. Now, I know that a 9^th isn’t exactly a huge fraction, but it is a substantial chunk. I’m not a complete newbie anymore… and I don’t have unlimited time ahead of me.

 

I don’t think too much about how many days I have left, though, because I simply don’t have the time to mope about how my time here won’t last forever. Aside from school work, I’ve settled on these activities:

Christian meetings such as bible studies, worship nights, and prayer meetings happen nearly every day. The Christian community here has just been so welcoming and kind that I felt right at home from day one. Definitely an answer to prayer! The Christian Union also lets me get a little more involved in giving back to the town, by volunteering at Toastie bar (which sells 50p toasties and donates the proceeds to charity) or doing yard work for elderly neighbours.

 

Performing Arts are also a huge part of my life here. While I’ve had to drop my dance class due to a scheduling conflict (sadness…), I landed a lead-chorus role in the Gilbert and Sullivan Society’s Iolanthe, which rehearses twice a week until the show in mid-November. I’m also co-directing (and possibly teching) one of the Freshers Plays (plays put on entirely by Freshers), and auditions for that start next week. Finally, the St. Andrew’s choir, with over 150 members, is singing Handel’s Messiah this year, so I’m considering joining.

I’ve been trying to write a bit, by keeping this blog going and writing for the student newspapers of both St. Andrew’s and King’s back in Canada. The creative writing society, Inklight, frequently hosts workshops, which I attend whenever possible. A couple people I’ve met are also into writing, so we’re trying to encourage each other and might end up collaborating on a play, if we can get our act together (no pun intended).

Getting so involved in St. Andrews has made me realize just how silly it was of me not to be more active in student life back home. I may have had an excuse—the school workload was definitely heavier—but I missed out on so much by not auditioning for plays or going to writing workshops or volunteering or joining Campus for Christ. Academics were definitely a priority, but there was so much more I could have done at Western. And now I’ll never get the chance…

 

Well, then. No use moping over a couple partly wasted years. Time to stop blogging and head out to paint the elderly neighbour’s fence, then off to Iolanthe read-through, and then Bible study…

(NOTE: The random flower pictures are from an afternoon when Kayla (one of the other Canadian exchange students) and I visited the Botanical Gardens and I went a little crazy with the macro setting on my camera.)