Day 600: Almost Home

Boarding passes for the flight home after my year abroad. 

Day 600

If my calculations are correct, today is my 600th day in the UK. Well, since I've travelled a bit, I should say my 600th day in Europe (though perhaps not for long... *insert mandatory Brexit joke here*)

At any rate, it's the 600th day since I left Canada. 600 days since I stood in the Halifax airport, surrounded by my bags, and said goodbye to my country. 

It's actually quite a fitting time for this milestone to occur. Firstly, two days ago was the two-year anniversary of the day I discovered I was coming to St. Andrews for the PhD. And, more immediately, I'm now just two days away from heading back to Canada. 

Back with my family for my 22nd birthday

For a variety of reasons, I haven't been back to Canada since starting the PhD. But this summer I'm going back twice-- first to Ontario, where I did my undergrad and masters, and then (in August) to PEI, where my family grew up.

I'm really excited to go back. There are a lot of people I can't wait to see, and I've started to get invited to facebook events at my old Uni that I can actually go to, and, of course, I'm very ready to get my hands on a Tim Hortons ice cap. 

But there are also a few things I'm apprehensive about. I've never been to Canada as a visitor before. I've never been there not as a resident. I have no idea what it'll feel like to just be passing through, now that I don't live there anymore.

I'm worried about it feeling foreign. I pulled out my Canadian money from my stash of random currencies, sorting it out amidst piles of euros, American dollars, and Polish zloty and Romanian lei, and the Canadian money felt just that strange. After the weight of British pound coins, the 'loonie' just felt thin. 

St. Andrews friends at Starlight Ball

I'm worried about saying the wrong things. About accidentally asking where the toilet is, not the bathroom. About complementing someone on their jumper, not their sweater. I'm worried about sounding pretentious because I say 'trousers' and put the stress on the wrong syllable of Renaissance. 

But there's a positive side to the fact that, for a month, I'll be a tourist in my own country. For the first time in my life, I'll be able to see and appreciate what's uniquely Canadian. Having spent 602 days in the UK, I'll be able to enjoy Canadian culture that much more, since I won't be taking it for granted.

I've come back to Canada after a long absence before, of course. Almost three years ago, now, I flew back to Canada after a full year abroad. I remember how weird it felt to stand in the airport, surrounded by people speaking in Canadian accents. I remember trying to walk to my university the next morning, only to take two hours because everything in Canada is so ridiculously spread out.

Cast photo for Utopia Limited, this year's Gilbert and Sullivan show.

I remember hating these things. Reverse culture shock is hard. I missed Scotland. I missed British accents and narrow Scottish alleys and proper Yorkshire tea and decent public transit and having my friends all within walking distance. There were so many things I missed, it was hard to appreciate anything about Canada. 

This time, since I'm only there for a month, I'm ready to love Canada. I'm ready to enjoy how everyone has the same accent. I'm ready to revel in the vast space.

I'm so ready for this chance to realize just how great a country Canada is. I'm ready to see my country with new eyes. 

Day 46- A Year Later

Receiving an inordinately expensive piece of paper

A year ago today, I convocated at Western with a Bachelor’s degree in English literature. The next day, I submitted my SSHRC application—a 25-page document for a scholarship worth up to $105,000.

Today, I should be crossing the stage with the other members of my cohort to receive my Master of Arts Degree from Western. Instead, I’m sitting in a flat in Scotland, working towards my PhD at the University of St. Andrews, courtesy of a SSHRC scholarship and generous funding from the university.

It’s been a wild ride. I’ve read thousands of pages, written 45,000 words, cried at rejections and jumped with joy at the acceptances that meant everything. The Masters year wasn’t always fun. Nothing about it was easy. But it was so, so worth it.

To be corny and cliché, it was the people that made my Master’s experience enjoyable. I owe so much to everyone I interacted with that year: the family I lived with who were there for me through the string of rejections, the professors who helped me with proposals or wrote references or just listened when I needed to rant about the stresses of grad school, and, most of all, the wonderful MA and PhD students who made classes so enjoyable.

I might not miss the long nights struggling to finish marking, or the mornings waking up at five to read 90 pages of Freud before class, or the 12 hour days writing three papers in a week, but I definitely miss Wednesday evenings at the grad club and Friday mornings grumbling about the uselessness of bibliography class and afternoons in the “bunker” chatting about everything from the definition of “English” literature to the meaning of marriage to Victorian mummy unwrappings.

Final day with the MA cohort

I wish I could be there to convocate with everyone this morning. I’m so proud of everyone who made it through the year, as well as those who had the courage to drop out when they realized that the program wasn’t for them. I’m so thankful for the intellectual discussions and the Doctor Who evenings, for people who love both Shakespeare and David Tennant.

To everyone convocating today, I wish you all the best. Whether you’re heading on to a PhD or running away from academia as fast as you can, know that I’m thinking about you and praying for you.

Enjoy your thirty seconds on the stage this morning—I might be in Scotland, but I’ll definitely be there in spirit… and possibly lurking the video livestream… J

The Art of Losing

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;

So many things seem filled with the intent

To be lost that their loss is no disaster…

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,

Some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.

I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

-- Elizabeth Bishop, “One Art”

I’ve never been good at leaving things behind. People, places, pieces of paper with hastily scribbled story notes, ugly plastic Gandalf statues with long-faded sentimental value… Pushing stuff out of my life has never been easy for me.

I don't think they'll all fit in my suitcase...

For that reason, I’m very thankful to have over a month at home on PEI to sort through my boxes of stuff and choose what comes to Scotland, what stays behind in semi-permanent storage, and what heads off to the local thrift store or garbage dump. Some of the choices are easy. Many aren’t. It’s a time-consuming process, and I’m glad I haven’t had to rush myself at all.

I’ve discovered that giving something away isn’t nearly as hard as throwing it out. It’s not the thing itself I’m attached to, but the idea of the thing being valuable. I’d give you my favourite dress if I knew you’d appreciate it more than I do (for the record, you won’t, so don’t bother asking). During the decluttering process, nothing makes me happier than giving stuff away to a good home: my kettle to my brother’s new apartment, my jewellery to an adorable six year old, my seldom-worn dresses to a good friend. It’s so easy to part with something when I know the new owner will use it more than I did.

Uhaul truck for taking my stuff (and Nana's old couches)
back from Ontario

Giving something to a thrift shop is harder. Yes, I’m happy to support a charity, but by the very nature of thrift shops, everything I donate will be sold for a fraction of what it’s worth. I don’t mind too much if they sell an old sweater for a dollar or two, but what about the hand-woven Romanian purse that they price like a cheap Wal-Mart knockoff? Or the expensive Perplexus game I only played a few times? Or the authentic Royal Shakespeare Company poster from David Tennant’s Richard II? There’s no way a thrift store would price these anywhere near their real value.

Thinking about the thrift store issue made me realize that my difficulty with giving stuff up isn’t just part of my sentimental nature—it’s also related to my somewhat excessive drive to save money. None of the objects I just listed have any practical value to me anymore. Anything the thrift store gets for them is a gain. Yet, because I (or someone else, in the case of gifts) paid good money for these objects, I feel like throwing them out or underselling them is wasting money.

I grew up in a money saving household. “Upcycling” wasn’t really a term back then, but we did it anyways: toilet paper rolls became beanie baby castles, old (hopefully sanitized) toothbrushes became sink scrubbers, threadbare sheets were woven into rugs… Before throwing anything out, you thought carefully about whether it could be used to make something else, and the answer was often yes.

Turning my collection of seaglass into a necklace

It was, in many ways, a great way to grow up. We saved a lot of stuff from going to the dump and we saved a lot of money. The downside is that it’s hard to break the habit when throwing things out becomes essential. Getting rid of something and saying, “I’ll buy a new one if necessary” is foreign to me.

I need to practice letting go (cue Disney music). Sentimental attachment hasn’t been as much of a problem this time; I’ve managed to throw out a lot of stuff that no longer means anything to me. Now, I need to tackle my money-saving heart. I need to convince myself that being frugal doesn’t mean being a packrat, that when something has no practical value in my life I should let it go without obsessing over its value in dollars and cents. I need to stop worrying about wasting money and start allowing my life to be a little clearer.

 It’s time to lighten my suitcase and flood the thrift store.

-21 Days: Three Weeks and Counting

In three weeks, I'll be back in St. Andrews. 

I leave Halifax on the 7th and arrive in Glasgow early on the 8th, meaning that by mid afternoon I'll be installed once again in St. Andrews. I'm hoping the jet-lag won't be too severe, as I'm arriving in the middle of Freshers' week and I'll already have missed a number of events, so I'd rather not miss more. It'll be so exciting to do Freshers' week again, this time going to events to see old friends, rather than standing awkwardly at a dozen different 'give it a go' sessions. 

This year will be different. I don't even know how different yet, but I do know that I can't count on it to be all that much like my exchange year. 

For starters, I'm a legit student this time. As in, an honest-to-goodness staying-for-three-years and earning-a-degree student. This isn't a year out, where courses transfer as pass/fail. This time, academics need to be top priority.

On top of that, I'm a legit PhD student. I won't be an undergrad moaning about 9:00am lectures, or madly scrambling to finish a reading, or pretending I'm intelligent because I took a quick look at secondary sources. I'll be heading in to my office every morning setting my own schedule, studiously reading everything I can find in my area, and hopefully contributing articles of my own. My MA gave me a taste of real scholarship, but next year will crank that up a notch.

Most importantly, I'm a legit PhD student at St. Andrews. As in, the third oldest university in the English-speaking world. One of the top universities in the world. 600 years old. The alma matter of royalty. An institute of learning that was already well established by the time Shakespeare wrote the plays I study. Last year, I had the privilege of temporarily belonging to that world-- the next three years will tie me forever to the name of St. Andrews. 

To be honest... I'm terrified. Excited, yes. Exhilarated, that too. But, more than anything, I can't believe my dream is coming true, and I'm both excited and scared for what that means. Getting my PhD from St. Andrews will be both the hardest and the best thing I've ever done. And it all starts in three weeks.

Day 150: Well, I'm Back

“But Sam turned to Bywater, and so came back up the Hill, as day was ending once more. And he went on, and there was yellow light, and fire within; and the evening meal was ready, and he was expected. And Rose drew him in, and set him in his chair, and put little Elanor upon his lap.
He drew a deep breath. ‘Well, I’m back,’ he said.”

-- J. R. R. Tolkien, The Return of the King

Final day in St. Andrews- a walk on the 18th hole of the Old Course

Day 150. I’ve been back in Canada for 150 days. Yikes.

It’s been good, for the most part. I won’t lie and say that it wasn’t hard to leave Scotland and that every moment back in Canada has been amazing and that I never want to leave here again. Coming back was difficult and stressful and full of reverse culture shock and longing for cobbled streets and old stone buildings.

But, despite all that, it has been good to come back. I needed to return to Canada and see my country through new eyes. Yes, there are plenty of things that now frustrate me, like how spread out everything is or how people don’t know how to queue or how no one properly appreciates a good cup of tea. Yet, there are so many things I do appreciate, like proper malls and nice airports and heated houses and having all my clothes with me and having a family who knows me so well and loves me anyways.

I’m glad to have returned. I don’t think it would have been good for me to have stayed away much longer. Living the crazy life of an exchange student, it’s far too easy to forget that “home”—whatever that word means—does actually matter.

That’s the problem with going on exchange: it’s so temporary… and so exciting for that very reason. During my one year at St. Andrews I packed in several years’ worth of travel and theatre-going and celebrity-meeting. I did so much that home couldn’t help but feel boring… but I only did so much because I wasn’t at home. My friends who call Britain home could have done just as much as I did, but they didn’t, because they were at home. It was the exchange that gave me license to have such an amazing year, not the living in Britain.

An exchange is fundamentally transitory. It’s got an absolute beginning and end. It’s like a little bubble space off of real life. I never want to say that it has no bearing on real life, because it absolutely does, but it still is a special time that must end. I might even go as far as to say that the fact that an exchange year ends is ultimately what makes it all worthwhile.

That’s why I had to come back. Because returning to Canada and reevaluating my homeland also allows me to look back and appreciate Scotland for what it was: a life changing year. My year abroad changed me in so many ways that didn’t even become evident until I came back. It’s all well and good to reinvent yourself in a new country, but the real test is when you come back “home.”

This probably all sounds too final, like I’m content return home and put my exchange year behind me. That’s not true at all. Right now I’m doing all I can to get myself back to Britain and I still don’t particularly want to stay in Canada long term. But I know that returning here was important, even essential, and I’m so glad, after 150 days, that I came back. 

Day 365: I'm going... Home?

My flight leaves in two hours. I've all but left Scotland- Edinburgh airport doesn't really count as part of the country I've called home for the past year. I've said goodbye to England, to Scotland, to my friends, to St. Andrews... All that's left is to board the plane, sit back, and let it take me across the ocean. 

Am I excited to go back to Canada? Yes, of course. I do miss my country, my friends, my university, my family... I'm looking forward to seeing everything again and it'll be great to start my MA at Western. 

Still, I don't want to go. Over the past year Britain has truly captured my heart. St. Andrews has become my home, the town I know and love best in all the world. When I'm there I truly feel alive, like I belong. 

Going back to Canada doesn't feel like going home- it feels like travelling. Maybe it would be different if I was heading back to PEI, to be with my family, but flying straight back to Ontario, which I'm not particularly attached to, feels almost a little alienating. 

I'm not trying to downplay Ontario, or Western, or my friends there, or Canada as a whole. God has blessed me with twenty wonderful years in that country and I have so much to be thankful for. To all Canadians reading this, I'm not trying to imply that there's anything negative or lacking about our country. I'm proud to be Canadian.

It's just that travelling complicates the idea of home. After living in Britain, gaining the accent, and travelling Europe, I cannot be solely Canadian anymore. When I've lived in more than one place for so long, finding just one place to call home becomes pretty much impossible.

Maybe I'll go back and discover that Canada really is where I belong. Maybe I'll want to settle down there and content myself with occasional visits to Europe. 

But maybe I'll return to find that it's really not my country anymore. Maybe going 'home' will cement my sense that actually Britain is where I want to live long-term. Maybe Canada will be just as amazing as it always was, but I'll want something different. 

At this point I really don't know. I've got my one year MA ahead of me, but then my PhD could be anywhere. Canada, the US, Britain, Australia? Who knows? At this point I'm up for adventure, trusting that God will eventually show me a place I can call home. 

Day 308: Week one of English Teaching

My first week of teaching English in Romania is officially a wrap. It's really satisfying to have finished a full week, but it's also a little sad to think that a quarter of my time here is already up, with only one more week until I switch schools and host families. 

This week has gone pretty much as well as I could have hoped. Monday was certainly a low point: I was tired from my first day of teaching, I was really confused about what was going on because I don't speak any Romanian, I was lonely because I wasn't able to meet up with the other student teachers, and I just really wanted to call my mom but I couldn't find an app that would let me call phones.

The thing is, after last year in Quebec, I've learned that adjusting to a new place is hard. I know that I'm likely going to feel miserable for the first few days. And that's okay, because now, one week on, I'm so glad I came. 

My host family is great. They have a large house on the edge of Suceava, so I get my own room and bathroom. The food is amazing- we've had shrimp and calimari, homemade schnitzel, goulash, stuffed pastries, and, of course, plenty of Romanian traditional dishes. My main problem is knowing how to politely decline food because I'm already way too full!

As for the teaching, it's been better than anticipated. I was a bit upset because I was allocated my last choice of group, 9-14 year olds in the afternoon, when I wanted to teach 15-18 year olds in the morning. However, when I first walked into class, I discovered that my students are mainly 13-16, and their English is fantastic. They're young enough to be pretty enthusiastic (I was worried about a 'too-cool-for-school' attitude, but it hasn't been a problem) but old enough to be taught at a fairly advanced level. 

The teaching isn't really conventional classroom style. I don't give them workbooks or expect them to memorize lists of irregular verbs. Instead, the point of the summer school is to have fun in an English-speaking environment. Most of the lessons are much more like games, and if the students aren't enjoying a particular exercise I don't drag it out. I don't make a concrete lesson plan for the day; instead, I come to class with a list of games and choose whichever one seems to flow naturally from the mood in the classroom. As a former homeschooler, who worked one whatever subject I felt like at the time, I love this more organic approach. 

The school also puts an emphasis on learning about other cultures. Tuesday July 1st was Canada day, so I showed up to school in a big Canada hat, showed the kids photos about Canada on my iPad, and passed around some Canadian money. Since that was my first Canada day ever out of the country, I was so happy to share the occasion with my students. 

On Friday, instead of our normal teaching hours, we held a ceilidh (a Scottish dance, pronounced Kay-lee) in the morning. Since the other teachers weren't as keen, I got the job of 'calling' the ceilidh, meaning I would teach the kids the steps and then yell them out while they danced. I was impressed by how fast the kids caught on, especially the little ones, and I'm looking forward to next Friday's last day of school ceilidh party. 

Suceava itself isn't the most interesting place to spend a month- it's not a touristy place at all, so there isn't much for us to other than sit in pubs and enjoy the cheap cocktails. The weather has been fairly cool for Romania, which I'm quite happy about, as it's been consistently mid-20s. I was worried it would be ridiculously hot, but instead it's been pretty comfortable. 

I'll write more about Romanian culture later. For now, I'm off to visit a monastery with my host family, then tomorrow I'll hike up a mountain with the other student teachers. After a week of teaching, this weekend will be a fantastic holiday. 

Day 278: Update from the Continent

(Urquhart Castle on the shores of Loch Ness)

Apparently I haven't blogged in a few weeks, not since exams. Whoops... So much has happened since then that I could have blogged a dozen times, but I've been so busy living through all this exciting stuff that I haven't had time to blog.

Hopefully I'll get a chance to write more detailed posts about some of the travelling I've been doing recently, but in case I don't, here's a brief look at everything that's happened in the past few weeks. 

1-  I finished exams! My own exams went decently, I had fun soaking my friends after their finals, and when I got my marks back just yesterday I found I passed all my modules with quite a decent average. Perhaps my marks were a tad lower than they would have been in Canada, but I'm still happy, considering how busy I was, and how I had to get used to a new academic system. 

(MUM IS HERE!!!)

2- Mum came! A few days after my last exam, mum flew out from Canada for a visit. She's here for a full four weeks, which means we're just a tad over half way right now. I loved showing her St. Andrews and introducing her to my friends, and she's a great travelling companion.

3- I moved out of St. Andrews. :( While I haven't said goodbye for the last time (I'm back for a bit in June, then for the last weekend in August before finally flying home September 1st) I have moved out of my flat and said goodbye to many of my friends. This, not surprisingly, was really hard, but having mum here definitely made things easier, since she helped me pack up my stuff, and travelling with her has helped take my mind of what I'm leaving behind.

4- I've visited four countries: Scotland (up north, so basically completely different from St. Andrews), England (Durham), the Netherlands (Friesland, Gouda) and now Germany (I'm writing this on the train just over the border from Holland, but we plan to visit Cologne, Manheim, and Heidelberg). It's cool to add a new country to my list (Germany makes 15), and I've really enjoyed seeing new places in countries I've already visited. 

(The house in the Netherlands where my great-grandparents lived)

That's life now. Another week of travelling, then a week in St. Andrews performing in The Mikado (a Gilbert and Sullivan, what else?) and then I'm off to Romania for a month! I have the feeling this summer is really going to fly by, since I'm constantly busy. The month in Romania will probably be the quietest time I get, since August will be spent dashing across the UK. 

As I mentioned in number 3, I do have a flight home now on September 1st. I'm flying Edinburgh to Toronto, which means that I'll leave from St. Andrews, which I think is fitting. Unfortunately, flying straight to Toronto means I won't have any time home in PEI this summer, so I won't get to see my family, friends, or the beautiful Island. On the other hand, I do get to spend the maximum time here in Europe, and I'll still be here when my BFF, Sharon, comes out for her exchange next year. Then, when I finally do leave, orientation for my MA program starts the very next day. It'll be busy, but I won't have time to miss Scotland if I throw myself right in to life back in Canada. 

Day 240: Endings

To employ an overly bookish metaphor: a chapter of my life is coming to a close. However, instead of quickly moving on to a new chapter, I feel like the page is being curled over slowly, leaving me waiting half way between chapters.

I hadn’t realized how many half-endings there would be here. A year ago I completed my last classes and exams at King’s, which was certainly bitter sweet. This year, it’s my entire undergraduate career that’s over. Two weeks ago I dropped off my last essay. A week was my last official performance in St. Andrew’s. Last week was the last CU meeting. Yesterday was my last class. In three weeks it’s my last exam. In a month I leave St. Andrew’s.

The problem with all these endings is that they’re constantly negated by other events. After handing in my last essays, I still had another presentation. After the last CU meeting, we still had a ball and a BBQ. After my official last show, I’m still doing two more Gilbert and Sullivan performances. After my last exams, I’ll already be thinking about my MA. After leaving St. Andrew’s, I’ll be returning at least two or three times during the summer.

It’s hard to say goodbye when there are so many endings. There’s no definitive moment when I can hug everyone and cry and really let go of this town and my life as an undergraduate. Everything sort of flows together in an unending stream of last times. I’m never really sure when something really is the last time and when it’s just a sort of rehearsal for the real goodbye.

And that’s okay. If there was some sort of big moment when everything was done and I had to give up this year and switch into my life next year, that would only make things so much harder. It’s easier this way, to give things up slowly and to ease into all the exciting things happening next year.

Right now it’s looking like I might not fly back to Canada until September 1^st, the day before my MA orientation. Maybe it’s a stupid idea to start my time back ‘home’ with a bad case of jetlag (although apparently it’s not as bad going east to west as west to east) but I want to stay here as long as possible. Plus, there’s a sort of poetic justice in returning to Canada on September 1^st, since last fall I left on September 2^nd. It would be a lovely way to round out a year of travel.

I don’t want to leave this town, this country, this life. But, at the same time, I’m so very excited for next year. I’m excited to start my MA and work on a thesis. I’m excited to live with a family again. I’m excited to act in Marlow’s Doctor Faustus. I’m excited to see my country again, and to finally see my family. As much as I’m sad to leave this chapter of my life behind, I’m definitely looking forward to the next one. 

Day 197: Spring In (and out of) St. Andrew's

Spring has come to St. Andrew’s!

The sun is shining, daffodils are sprouting, the summer dresses are emerging from the backs of closets… and all I can think of is ‘April is the cruellest month, breeding lilacs of the dead land…’ T. S. Eliot does have a way of dampening beautiful spring mornings.

Spring means long walks and campfires on the beach and walking around without my coat. It means doing readings on the shore rather than in the library, or meeting a friend for a picnic rather than in a coffee shop.

The most significant spring event in St. Andrew’s, however, is our two week Spring Break, beginning next week. You could say that I’m actually already on break, since my last class of the month was yesterday. Weird to think that I won’t be back in Castle House until April…

My friends’ plans for spring break vary, from simply going home and studying to visiting Rome or Marrakesh. I was considering a trip to Spain, Portugal, and Morocco with some other exchange students, but eventually ended up saying no because of the money. Since I’ll be staying in Europe all summer and not getting a job, I need to make my funds last.

Instead, I’m sticking around in the UK and visiting a number of friends. On Monday I head down to Southampton, on the very south coast of England, where I’ll stay with a postgrad friend for a week. Then I head up to Belfast, visiting a few more friends, before finally flying back to Scotland and staying in Kirkcaldy for a couple days.

In a way I’m jealous of my friends with more exotic travel plans. Who wouldn’t want a Mediterranean vacation in March? On the other hand, though, I’m completely content. I’m more interested in the UK than in the rest of Europe, and I’m thrilled to get the chance to see more of it over the break. All I need is a little perspective: if someone had told me last year I’d be spending Spring Break in England, Ireland, and Scotland, would I have complained?

Spring break should hopefully be a great mix of friends, travel, and relaxation. Hopefully I’ll take lots of photos and manage to blog a bit, so I’ll try to keep the updates coming… but don’t expect me to be any faster than I was with the January travel posts!

Day 187: Halfway (and What Six Months has Taught Me)

Day 187. This past Monday, Day 183, was the halfway point of my time in Europe, exactly six months after my arrival in Scotland.

It’s odd to be halfway done (or two-thirds, if you’re only considering my time in St. Andrew’s, and not the three summer months I’ll spend in Europe.) It feels like I’ve always been here. I can’t imagine not knowing my way around St. Andrew’s, not using the word ‘biscuit’ correctly, not hanging out with all the amazing people I’ve met… St. Andrew’s has become home.

Sunset at Caulk Abbey, near Nottingham.

When I attempted to write this post yesterday, it descended into a sort of mope-fest about how I didn’t want to leave. So, today, I decided to take a more positive direction, and share five things I’ve always known, but that my time here has really cemented in my mind.  

1- The world is a big place

Canada may be a big country, but there’s just so much more out there in the world. There’s more to life than travelling back and forth between PEI and Ontario, more to do than sitting in my room writing essays. I used to love the idea of the ivory tower academic, sitting alone amidst books and papers, but after seeing more of the world I could never cut myself off from it.

Phone booths in Cambridge

2- Everyone’s got a story

My favourite thing about travel is meeting people, whether that’s a friend I’ve become super close to here in St. Andrew’s, or a random guy I chatted with on the bus. Everyone has such unique experiences and I can learn so much from them. Meeting so many new people has helped me to stop talking about myself and to really listen to other people.

3- People are worth investing in

Amidst the craziness of essays and shows and exams and events, people have to come first. I can’t let myself get too busy to chat for an hour on the streetcorner, or to pick up a family’s children from school, or to ask a friend “How are you?” and mean it. I’ve been really privileged recently to have some close friends share difficult aspects of their lives with me, and taking the time to listen and pray with them was 110% worth it.

4- I can be a friend

Too often I’ve been afraid to get close to people because I thought they wouldn’t want my friendship. I’ve waited for them to ‘make the first move,’ and, if that didn’t happen, I just let them drift away. This year I’ve been much more confident in my abilities to be a friend—I’ll ask people over for tea, or go up to new circles at church, or give random hugs. Sometimes people don’t reciprocate, and that’s alright, but most of the time I’ve gained new friends.

Overlooking the Danube, Budapest.

5- Say Yes

My drama coach taught me this years ago, and it’s finally starting to take hold in my life. Saying Yes means taking advantage of the opportunities that life gives you. It means visiting an ill friend when you should be writing an essay. It means waking up at dawn to dance on the pier. It means bussing all the way to London to see Coriolanus. Saying Yes isn’t an excuse for being irresponsible, but it means not missing out on once-in-a-lifetime opportunities.

That’s what I’ve learned in six months on exchange. Maybe my list is a little sentimentalized, but it’s all true. My time in St. Andrew’s has been (and will continue to be) a life-changing experience, in so many ways. 

Day 71: Iolanthe Opening

Back in the good old days when Iolanthe was still an everyday part of my life, I wrote a couple blog posts about the experience. Due to lack of photos and general busy-ness, I never posted them. So now, I present to you, a series of three posts about Iolanthe. Today's installment was written the day of the first show, when I was definitely feeling the pre-show jitters...

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Iolanthe opens today!

It’s bizarre to think that we’ll actually be performing in just a few hours. The dress rehearsal yesterday, where we finally got to use the real stage, made it feel a bit more real, but it’s still strange to think that all our hard work is going to pay off tonight.

There's nothing like being on stage again...

We’ve put so much effort into this show. Gilbert and Sullivan Operettas aren’t easy, but I’ve been really impressed with how everyone has handled the challenge. For the most part it’s been relatively smooth sailing, until the past few weeks where the little issues have started to surface. Singing with a live orchestra, for instance, is much more difficult than I expected. However, everyone’s really stepped up their game in the past few days, and I’m confident everything will fall into place tonight.

Fairies watching during the dress rehearsal

We had a bit of a scare on Saturday when our title character was ill. One of the other chorus principles was bumped up to play Iolanthe, so I had to take her songs and a few lines. It was a little stressful, having to learn extra parts at such short notice, but it was also really exciting to find that we were so well prepared to handle the crisis. As it turned out, the actress playing Iolanthe was better in time for the dress rehearsal, so the show will run as planned. But I still know Lelia’s part, in case she accidentally trips on the stairs…

One thing I’ve loved about being in Iolanthe is that I got to be the choreographer for the show. I joined the production expecting that there would be quite a bit of choreography involved (all the Gilbert and Sullivan operettas I’ve seen before have been quite dance-heavy) and was disappointed to learn that there would be very little dance. When the director learned I was interested in choreography, he started giving me little bits of music to fill with dance until eventually, just three weeks ago, I was officially dubbed Lord High Choreographer.

Loudly let the trumpets bray!

Initially, it was rather stressful being thrown into this role three weeks before the show (not that I’m complaining—I kinda asked for it…) I had four dance segments to create and teach to a cast of mainly non-dancers. The first choreography rehearsal was really nerve-wracking because I had just spent hours composing the dances, and I was worried the director wouldn’t like them. Instead, he really liked what I had created, and he contributed a couple ideas to make them even better. My volunteer dancers were also super keen and enthusiastic, and they learned the combination really quickly.

In short, Iolanthe has been a whirlwind of singing and dancing, of new experiences and new friends combined with general Gilbert and Sullivan awesomeness. It’s been so much fun, and I’m already excited for next year’s production. 

Day 100: Looking Forward

I’ve been in Scotland for 100 days.

By a ruined abbey in Dunfermline

Not technically, of course. About ten of those days were spent in England or Ireland, so I’ve really only been in Scotland for around 90 days. Still, it’s been 100 days since I left Canada to begin my British adventure.

The past 100 days have been some of the best of my life. I’ve met so many people, done so many things, learned so much, and been so many places… It’s really been a time of excess, a time where two plays, two essays, and two tourist trips can exist in the same month. It’s been everything I expected, and more.

I hope you all know what this is...

It’s only going to get better. Once exams are done (next Wednesday!) I’ll head down to Nottingham (stopping in York for the afternoon to explore) to stay with my great aunt and uncle over Christmas. After about a week I’ll move on to Cambridge, where I’ll stay with a friend of mine from St. Andrew’s. We plan to go into London together for New Year’s celebrations, and then I’ll catch a bus/plane that will take me to continental Europe and a whole new set of adventures for January. I don’t intend to get back to St. Andrew’s until January 27^th, after visiting at least seven new countries.

Once I get back, second semester should be as much fun as the first. My module lineup (Scottish Literature and T. S. Eliot) looks like it should be fun, and I’ll have a better idea of the academic system now that I’ve already been through one semester.

Then there’s theatre. The Gilbert and Sullivan Society is doing The Sorcerer (a Midsummer Night’s Dream-esque show about people drinking a potion and falling in love) and I’ll be choreographer, which should be an exciting challenge. I’ve also been cast in a student-written piece called ‘This Breathing World,’ which is a futuristic adaptation of Shakespeare’s Richard III. Finally, I might do tech for a few more productions, since I really enjoyed doing it last time.

Iolanthe faries <3

More travel awaits next semester. I haven’t seen much of the Scottish Highlands (though I have been down south a few times) so a trip up towards Inverness and Loch Ness definitely has to happen at some point. We have two weeks break in March, and the current plan is to head down to Spain, Portugal, and Morocco, where it’ll (hopefully!) be warmish. There’s also the possibility of weekend trips to cities like Paris, France, and Oslo, Norway. And after classes are done, I might get to head down to Greece and Croatia for an early summer holiday.

My 'mum' and me at CU houseparty

But most of all, I’m looking forward to starting next semester with my lovely group of friends here. When I look around and see how close I’ve gotten with so many of the people here, how many wonderful people I can truly call “good friends,” I can’t help but look forward to another semester of spending time with them and getting to know them even better. The academics and the theatre and the travel may all be exciting and fascinating, but it’s the people that have truly made my time here amazing.

To all my St. Andrew’s friends: thanks for a wonderful 100 days.

Day 68: Winter is Coming

It’s suddenly turned cold. I wear two jumpers around the house normally, and tea and my new blanket have become my best friends. When I go outside, I normally wear my winter jacket.

While I’m not really a fan of cold, there is something wonderful about the briskness in the air, the vivaciousness of crackling leaves, and the comfort in a cup of tea.

 

It’s also lovely to walk to uni every morning with my breath hanging in the air, the freezing moisture droplets sparkling in the sun. The other day I wrote this poem in my head as I walked to 9 am lecture:

This morning, the world was all dragons

Flowing up the hill to market street

Smoky breath mingling with the mist

That slouched uneasily over the river.

The town prepared:

Unlocking shop doors

Sweeping the pavement

Carting away the refuse

From forgotten nights.

For dragons, their red scales

Wrapped securely around their shoulders

Would descend

And ravage

And leave gold.

And I thought,

As smoke swirled from my own mouth

How sad it was to be a dragon

So reckless

And dangerous

And demanding.

I hope that made some sort of sense. :) Of course, poetry doesn’t have to make a lot of sense… not immediately. If anyone wants to do a close reading of that poem and find all the deep meaning in the poem, then go right ahead. It would be really interesting to see what people thought the poem was about, since I have quite a specific meaning in mind.

Finally, I should note that a number of interesting things happened last week, like Kayla and I getting bus passes and travelling around Fife, as well as the Gilbert and Sullivan society’s trip to Edinburgh. I have some photos from both of these trips, so as soon as the editing is done, I’ll have a couple more blogs to post.

Day 55: The Ocean

I love the ocean.

I love the crash of waves, and the music of pebbles washing up on the sand. I love the sun bursting out of the ocean in the morning and lighting it red in the evening. I love the breeze as I walk down the pier and the salt smell in the air by the beach.

I suppose, to be completely technical, I’m an inland girl. Hamilton Ontario is pretty landlocked (no—the great lakes don’t count). But, for as long as I can properly remember, I’ve lived by the sea.

On PEI, you’re never more than half an hour from the ocean, and we lived much closer. I loved growing up on a tidal river, watching the water flow in an out. We were also five minutes from one of PEI’s lovely red sand beaches, a favourite summer destination.

Now, in St. Andrew’s, the ocean is a reminder of home. When I look out over the North Sea, I know that it’s connected to the Northumberland Straight back in Canada. Maybe, over the years, some of the waves have made the same journey that I did, all the way across the ocean.

(Alright, I’m overly romanizing this a little. Waves probably don’t travel quite that far. But, it’s a nice thought)

The ocean has been a constant in my life. And now, there’s nothing that de-stresses me more than a short (or, to be honest, a really-not-short-at-all) walk down the beach. On a gorgeous day like today, I could have spent hours just sitting on the rocks, watching the waves, or collecting sea glass.

Now, just in case you’re not quite convinced about how gorgeous the ocean is… photographic evidence shall be supplied. The first half of these photos are from an impromptu post-prayer-meeting photoshoot with a few friends at West Sands, and the second half are from my study-break walk late yesterday afternoon at East Sands. Because, of course, the only thing better than the ocean is the ocean at sunrise or sunset.

The pier, with the lovely crashing waves.

The shoreline going south

The town! Isn't it just sooooo lovely?

Scottish flag above the town. So patriotic. :)

Pier and the edge of the town with the harbour and cathedral.

Scottish flag against the clouds

Rocks! They're fantastic for rock scrambling, and amazing for sea glass collecting!

Scotland!
(n.b. the random thing in the top of the picture is a windsurfing kite, or something of that sort...)

Waves... :)

Sunrise near West Sands as we head off to early morning prayer meeting.

After the meeting-- all bundled up!

Ocean... <3

"The sun comes up, it's a new day dawning..."

More rocks! There're rocks basically everywhere here. ALL the rock scrambling!

One of my friends had the idea to stand on the rocks and take sunrise silhouettes. 

Just slightly edited... :P
(but it's purple, so it's justified)

After showing you all these pictures, I am now going to present the gracious offer of a couch in my living room for you to sleep on... Anyone want to take me up on that?