Madrid: Most Beautiful City Ever?

It´s no secret that I don´t care too much for France or Paris, and I obviously haven´t been to Paris yet, so this opinion has to be taken with a grain of salt. I think that Madrid might just be the most beautiful city on earth. Of course I haven´t been all over the world, and I´m sure that many will dispute my claim, but having seen what I have, I feel rather confident in my conclusion.

Madrid and Barcelona are indeed two ends of a specturm. Barcelona was gorgeous in its own right, but its claims to fame are based on unique architecture, art, and culture. Yet when you switch the warm winds of the beach for the drier and cooler central Spain, the landscape changes in more ways than one. To be honest, I was so blown away by Barcelona, especially because it was my first experience in Europe, that I set my expecatations for Madrid much lower. Yet, Madrid has done anyting by dissapoint.

First off, Madrid is much more ornate. It´s an emperial capital, and that distinction speaks in every single building. Just walking a few blocks from our hostel to Plaza Mayor, Plaza del Sol, and Plaza de la Independencia, you are immediately struck by how no one building is less magnificant than the next. All the edifices are intraciately carved and grand. Unlike Barça, Madrid has a lot of tall buildings and thus it feels a lot more like New York than a city like San Diego. Also unlike Barça, which seems to be very spread out--not in the sense of sprawl, but more in a sense of the attractions being all over the city--Madrid packs most of its sights into the Districto Central. We walked up the Gran Vía and around the lavish plazas. Ironically, although one is struck by Madrid´s grandeur, it´s pace seems to be slow and methoidcal. People walk at a slower pace, especially in the Botanical Gardens and the Prado, where we spent most of our time. People seem to be enjoying life. You don´t see a lot of stressed or tired faces, only people trying to make the most out of their day.

Overall the first day here in Madrid has been one of, if not our best. It was relaxing and gorgeous. Taking walks down the streets and seeing amazing buildings. Seeing all the amazing works of art in the Prado. Walking through the Royal Botanic Gardens as well as the Bosque de Reterio and just savouring the smells and sights and simply being in Madrid. Finally going to Estadio Santiago Bernabeu and buying a Real Madrid scarf, and now going to El Tigre, Madrid´s most famous, and one of it´s cheapest tapas bars. Today was anything bust rushed, and maybe that´s the way it should be done in Madrid.

¡Desde Barcelona a Madrid!

It´s rather hard, when you´re travelling at a breakneck pace through Spain, to take mental notes about everything you´re doing in order to blog about it when you get the few necessary minutes-so keeping all of that in mind, here´s a brief recap of the last day in BarÇa and the beginning of our adventures in Madrid.

So the second day we tackled Montjüic, a wonderful hilly region on the outskirts of the city. On the top of the hill stands an old military battery. While it would be a stretch to guess the relevant time period, I would say it dates at least back to the late 1600s if not before, and was retired shortly after WWII. It not only offers a nice little piece of history, but a wonderful vista of Barcelona´s Mediteranean coast. Yet the best part of our visit was probably avoiding the major tourist trap, a gondola which takes you up the mountain-only a 20 minute walk other wise-which costs 9 euro (I found it ironic also that I can´t seem to find the euro symbol on this Spanish keyboard).

After descending the mountain we walked along the road until we reached the old Olympic Stadium used in the 1992 summer games. The stadium is still fully operational, used by FC Espanyol of Barcelona, as well as a past life in NFL Europe (big joke). There wasn´t that much to see but it was free to get in and having a picture of me in front of another football pitch is always nice. We kept walking down the hill, past a gorgeous old art museum and then down a steep plaza filled with fountains and monuments until we reached the literal center of town. Great pictures and time were had by all.

The next stop was the Mercat de Boqueria-a real live farmer´s market, sporting the best of local food. It did not dissapoint to say the least. For one euro we got a fresh, hot baguette which was devoured in no time-followed by a kilo and a half of the best strawberries we had ever tasted. It was one of those experiences which words or photos cannot adequately describe.

The last major stop of the day was the Camp Nou, home of FC Barcelona. It was a highlight for all three of us, because we had all grown up loving the club, especially when we were playing FIFA and subsequently destroying our opposition. After a short time in the shop, where I added to my already growing collection of football scarves, we decided to pay the fee and take the stadium tour. While we were originally quite pissed that we didn´t get a tour guide, the lack of structure allowed us to take our time. We took tons of pictures of the pitch, saw the dressingrooms and all that, but then we were able to just sit in the stands and talk for almost an hour. Not only was this a real break for our legs, but it was an experience that I will definitely never forget.

So Day 3 involved just a couple of things. First we set out to explore the Barceloneta section of town, which feels a lot like Miami Beach, with its high rises and palm trees. The main reason though, besides the beautiful secenery, was the huge cheap sandwiches of Be ó B, as adverteised by our hostel guide. They definitely lived up to their expectation. 3 euro for fresh tuna, tons of veggies, and homemade pesto made it one of the best pieces of food that we´d ever gotten, let alone in Spain. The we merely sat on the beach and enjoyed the warm sun, wasting away the last couple hours before disembarking for Madrid.

Y, ahora estamos en el Hostel de Las Musas en Madrid. Yep, we made it. After a 3 hour train ride (averaging around 250 km/hour) we made it to Madrid. The first reaction was wow, this looks a lot more Spanish than Barcelona. It´s true. While Barcelona definitely has that Mediteanean flair, Madrid is located well inland in central Spain and thus reflects a lot more of the quitensential Spanish architecture and attitude. The hostel is defintely better than its counterpart in Barça. It´s cleaner, brighter, has a better shower, a better breakfast, and best of all, it has more Americans and staff who take you on tours. Despite our aversion to standing out as gringos and only hanging with Americans, we decided to take the hostel´s Tapas Tour last night. We already wanted to get tapas for dinner, but the late hour and our lack of knowledge about the surrounding area made it an obvious choice. It was a blast to say the least. Our Argentinian tour guide took us to three bars, each representing a different section of Spain. We sampled homemade beer, local hard cider, as well as sangría and some of the greatest tapas ever. And while we were surrounded by Americans, getting a brief chance to socialize and just enjoy the food (provided at a very low price) without having to struggle with a relative language barrier was very nice.

So after a good night´s sleep we´re off for our first day in Madrid. Most likely we´ll hit the Prado, El Museo de Reina Sofia, and a couple other choice spots...updates to follow!

The Gringos Take on Barca

So yes, we're the Gringos, no two ways about it. No matter how hard I try to add an accent to my Spanish the person inevitably answers in English. Obviously we're Americans. If it isn't our words its the constancy of our hands in our pockets--a maneuver we've come to refer to as our gang symbol. Whenever we get to a place like the Metro or a crowded sidewalk, one of us wil calmly say gang symbol time and into our front pockets our hands fly.

Anyway, day one in Barca. Up at 9.30 and out by 11. Having only had a cup of instant coffee, and being in dire nee of water--the tap water is off limits--we staggered out into the warm sunlight. The first stop was Park Guell, a wonder dedicated to Gaudi and his knack for amazing architecture. It's at the top of a massive hill, so to assist the swarms of tourists there are escalators running all the way up it. The once you've reached the bottom you have to traverse long winding paths up the hill, lined with beautiful trees and flowers, as well as street musicians and people selling various souveneirs. Each step brings an even better vista over the whole of the city and at the top is a single stone cross rests wth a platform around it from which hundredsof people take pictures. At the center of the park is Gaudi's former house which of course has now been turned into a museum. It being Palm Sunday today, the park was packed by after church goers carrying dried palms made into a variety of shapes and tied with colorul ribbons--far more extensive than South Portland.

Next, it was off to argubaly the pinnacle of the Barcelona tourist scene, La Sagrada Familia. This still to be completed cathedral, designed by Gaudi is really a sight to behold, something that pictures ca't do justice to. The outside is carved with figures depicting various biblical stories and verses, designed with immaculate precision and skill. The inside is just as spectacular, wit ornate ceilings and amazing stained glass windows. 2,50 euros was enough to bring us to the top of the spire and see an even more amazing view of the city. The cathedral just took my breath away. From its design to the awe with which people behold it, it seems to be one of those places that although rather recent in its construction, is very sacred still during its completion.

Last on the agenda for day one was the Museu de Picasso, situated in the southern ditrict of the city. We thought it would be easy to find, having already asked for the apropriate stop on the Metro, but after 45 or so minutes of searching throughout the neighberhood, still no museum. Finally we found it in a gorgeous multistory open building, tucked away in an alley. Luckily for us, not only was the museum free to enter after 3PM on Sundays, but having not found it right away we were able to explore and see what must be one of the most gorgeous discticts in the city. The museum itself wasn't as amazing as I had hoped--considering that Picasso is easily my favorite artist. I guess it's because the majority of his great works are situated in other cities across the world. But the pleasant ending to a tireless search proved to be far more of the pleasure than the museum itself.

Finally we just took a lesiurely walk down by the shore, seeing all thealrge boats and the sundrenched people. An amazing sunet and a great end to a tireing day. Of course, dinner has yet to come-a meal which will hopefully consist of San Miguel and some local pallella, if I can have anything to say about it.

So, day one has been great so far. I'm sure that rest will come at a premium over the next days, but I am indeed forging friendships and memories that will last a lifetime.

But before I go...a few general oberservations about Barcelona and Spain. I like the look of Spaniards a lot more than Brits. That's just in regards to the women. People here not only seem to be a lot more laid back, but they seem a lot more genuine and funky. Yes, that's the general nature of Barcelona as a city, but it seems to be the nature of Spain as a nation as well. People don't spike their hair everywhich way, dreads seem to be more the style. People move at a much more lesiurely pace and have a lot more fun.

I've also noticed the ways in which a preexisting empire can influence the makeup of a country. There are of course the more white Spanairds, the ones who are far more caucasuian, though more tan than those found farther North. But there are also those who you can't help but idenity as Central American in complexion. Those who most likely emigrated from what used to be Spanish colonies. There are also those who moved from former colonies in African like Angola. The bottom line is that I've been surprised many a time by those who speak Spanish like a Spanaiard but don't necessarily look the part. I guess that's the beauty of a cosmopolitan city.

Anyway, that's it for now. Gelatto has been the only food that I've had today, so I guess it's time for some proper dinner. Hasta luego!

¡Yo Soy en Barcelona!

So we made it, it was rather rough, but we made it.

Step 1: Walk to Prince´s Street and pay 6 quid to take a shuttle to the airport
Step 2: Wait in line for an hour or so to get bag checked.
Step 3: Get through security-unless you´re Jonathan and forget that you´ve left a bottle of Irn Bru in your bag.
Step 4: Wait for plane
Step 5: Wait in queue that is supposed to be for boarding until you realize that Ryanair sucks and the plane hasn´t even arrived yet.
Step 6 : Ride on plane where they try and have you buy each and every thing imaginable.
Step 7: Arrive in Gerona and wait in line for another 20 or so minutes while you realize that passport control is only screening the EU citizens and you have to wait until they´re all done.
Step 8: Get bag and board bus bound for Barcelona-sit in the back right in front of two couples making out like the world is about to end.
Step 9: Get to the train station and get on the commuter train as opposed to the Metro and go in the wrong direction.
Step 10: Remember enough Spanish to ask directions and find the right train.
Step 11: Get off of Metro train and realize how beautiful Barcelona really is.

Needless to say, yesterday was quite of an experience, and all of the above steps were just for getting to the hostel. Thankfully, using Ryanair didn´t turn out to be as bad as forecasted. Only a bit of delay getting on the plane, which was erased by arriving a half hour early in Geron-although I suspect that like any other "discount" airline, they post a much longer flight time so they can take pride in getting you there early. (It´s also not that encouraging when they play Revelry when you get on the ground, as if doing so was more of a rarity than it should be.

After we manged to sort out the train thing we were able to really savor the city. After droppin our stuff off at the hostel we patroled Las Ramblas-one of the most gorgeous and notororiously squeezy parts of town. We got really crappy pizza at a really crappy pizza place because it was nearly 1AM before we got going and that was about our only option. So after being kicked out of the retaurant (so they could close) we sat on a park bench and just watched gaggles and gaggles of people go by on their way out for the night. Then we decieded we wanted a glass of wine to finish off the night. In the process of finding this glass of wine we were offered sex from a not so pretty prostitute, and drugs from abotu 5 different guys-ranging from pot to coke. Needless to say, Barça was quite interesting. But we found out wine, chatted with a Swede who was stranded in the city for the night, and was able to take it all in slowly.

It´s so weird thinking that I´m actually in Spain. This seemed like such a far off dream, a mirage that would always be planned but never realized. Yet here I am. Despite getting just a coupel of hours of sleep last night-because of people buzzing in at 6 in the morning, the rock hard pillow and the lack of blanket-Jonathan, Cliff, and I are about to get dressed and take on the town. Today, Parc Guell, the Picasso Museum, and maybe the beach. While it still does feel like a dream to a certain extent it certainly has been an amazing one so far!

End of Classes

So I can't really concentrate any more. Classes end on Friday and then it's off for a one month vacation. I feel like I'm about to embark on what going abroad is really all about. On Saturday it's off to Barcelona, then Madrid, then Rome. Over 6 weeks ago, when we booked this trip, it all seemed like a joke. Not only was the end of March never going to come but going to Spain and Italy seemed like a dream. Now it's all becoming a reality. Just going through the Lonely Planet guides today made me jump out of my skin. A lot of the excitement stems from the anticipation. This is my first trip outside of Britain. Most of the people I know over here have at least made it to France, if not all over the place. But now it's my turn. It's my turn to see Europe, to relax and just worry about getting to and from the hostels and airports. Spain will be a nice yet exciting break and then Rome will be the fulfillment of so much desire. To be able to not only trace Roman but also Christian history is something that I've always wanted to do, and something that I know I will never forget.

For better or for worse, I'm not bringing my computer a long. I guess I just figure that it will relieve a lot more headaches and stress than having to lug it around and worry about it being stolen. Yet as a result I won't be able to update this as much. I hope that if the hostels don't have adequate computers that I will at least be able to pop into an internet cafe to reflect on my experiences. If not, then it will all have to wait until April 7.

So here we go. It seems as if the first huge part of my experience is about to end. The coursework is all done and with the exception of taking 3 exams, my university life is over. It's weird to think that I won't have to go to lectures anymore, or worry about readings, or go through the daily and weekly routine that has become so second-nature. Now I have almost six weeks to both explore and just sit and do nothing. Unlike some, I won't be travelling for the whole time, but instead I'll have some good time to just sit and do nothing or explore Edinburgh without any constraint. I doubt the allure of such time will be so great once I get to mid-April and am bored out of my skin. But hey, I could be slaving away at Bates.

For now, I'm just content to let life go by one day at a time and savor the moments. I hope that this upcoming trip will not only allow my to widen my horizons but to explore, learn and grow and just experience and enjoy all that life has to offer.

Restless

The title pretty much describes my emotion. I feel really unsettled. Maybe it's because I'm almost done with classes. Maybe it's because the weather is warming up. Maybe it's because I'm starting to get homesick again. Regardless of the reason, I feel stuck between two worlds. For over two months now, it was easy enough to just go about the normal academic day without thinking much about it. Go to class, do your readings, relax a bit and go to bed. While this wasn't the most exicting progression in the world it was simple and calming. I'm a person who likes routine, and regardless of what that routine proves to be, I like to stick to it. Now I'm getting towards the end of that routine. I have two weeks of classes left, which in this country only mean that I have to keep up with the reading. There's no last-minute flurry of assignments or preparation for finals--those are weeks off. Instead, the emotions of the nearing of spring break and those of the end of the semester are mixed into one--something which I'm not familiar, nor comfortable with.

In two weeks I'll go to Barcelona, Madrid, and Rome. This time will be amazing, I'm sure. But then I'll be back here, alone, for the majority of the rest. There will be another trip to Ireland in there, and the normal mingling with one or two friends. But the flat will almost be cleared out, and I will be left to ponder. I would normally study in these circumstances, but that's saved for the beginning of May, yes May, which is still over two weeks before my first exam. I don't know how people do this on a year-in-year-out basis. Maybe it's just because it's what they're used to, but it really makes me uncomfortable. It's as if exams are an afterthought, which strikes me as bizarre and disconcerting.

What all of this leads me to want is home. A psychoanalysis could yield some really interesting conclusions, I'm sure. But the way I see it is that I'm looking 2 months of uncertainty and constant change in the face, and what I want most to combat that is home--a place which at least in my mind is unchanging. The irony of this is, of course, that my current house is up for sale, meaning that home is also changing. This says to me that "home" in the context is more a state of mind, or a collection of people, rather than a physical address. Yet, for right now this is home, Edinburgh is home. Yes, the routine may have grown a bit drab, but there are fun things to come. I spent the past weekend in Bridge of Allan with the Blackburns. Their hospitality amazes me. Without blinking they welcome me as another son. This may be just the way the operate, but it constantly humbles me. The weekend was fun and relaxing. Good food, good movies, good sleep and a good run up to the Wallace Monument. Yet I felt a longing for home as well. The comfort of that house and the closeness of people that care for you is something that can never be discounted.

But enough with that. This week will be just like any other week, but it's a week in Edinburgh. Despite how comfortable I feel in this city, I know that a time will soon come where the mundane of Scotland will be swapped for the mundane of Maine, and I will be wishing to return to the former. So I plan to try and love each day, despite the constant clutter and nastiness of my flat, or my wanting to go home. This is an adventure that will soon be over, never to be repeated. And while I may want that day to come sooner rather than later, I know that deep down I want it to last forever. The task, thus, is to balance the two, in a mutually beneficial equilibrium.

When You Lose Perspective

It's easy to lose your perspective when you're living in a big city. You walk out your front door and are immediately bombarded by tall buildings and the constant sound of car horns and bikes and screaming babies. Then you walk to where you're going, do whatever business you may need to do there, and walk back to where you live. Of course I'm oversimplifying the process a bit, but this has essentially been my daily life for the last two months. I wake up. I go to class. I might go to the gym, but besides that and the bi or tri-weekly trips to Tesco, I go from my flat to campus and back again.

Needless to say this progression can get rather tiresome and annoying. Why do I waste so much of my day inside? Why do I feel trapped in such an amazing place? While it's impossible to dispel all of these feelings, I have found that walking is the best way to get rid of them. So I woke up today and saw the beautiful weather outside (sunny and about 50 degrees) and thought that it would be nice after my lone class was over at 1PM to just go for a walk. Yet my attempts to find someone else to go with me proved fruitless--apparently I got my essays done a lot earlier than most and most of my friends are now locked inside weathering the impending academic storm. This got me rather discouraged, because along with feeling trapped in the flat, I often feel like I have no one to talk to.

But with all of that aside I decided to be brave. As 1:00 struck I left the Chrystal MacMillan Building and found the weather to be much colder and grayer than I had expected. But this didn't hold me back. I proceeded to walk to the Royal Mile and all the way down to its foot, where you can find the Scottish Parliament Building and Holyrood Palace. I got there, and just sat for a moment, contemplating the week so far and the rest of the week to come. I felt like this might be enough to quench my philosophical thirst, but thankfully I decided to press on.

Salisbury Crags are a set of hills on the Southwest side of Edinburgh. Among them is Arthur's Seat, an ancient chunk of volcanic rock which when climbed gives one spectacular 360 degree views of Edinburgh and everything around it. However, were still a bit tired from running yesterday, so I decided to hike a smaller crag whose walking path goes from Holyrood Palace back to the West. Am I ever glad that I did this.

It was during this walk that I began to think about perspective. I've had a hard time as of late keeping my mind here in Edinburgh--due to the recent sale of my childhood home, the need to find an internship for the summer, as well as the huge mixed bag of emotions that comes with the nearing completion of college. But taking a solitary walk can change your perspective a lot. The Bible is filled with instances of people doing just that. Whether it be Jesus' time in the wilderness, the Transfiguration or even Moses going up Mount Sinai to receive the 10 commandments, there is something very profound about climbing and thinking. For me, it gave me the chance to see how little I really was, and how trivial a lot of my worries really were. Just climbing a few minutes gave me a huge view of Scotland. I was able to see all of the landmarks across the city, but more importantly I could see the snowcapped mountains in the distance, the North Sea, as well as small towns and villages for miles and miles and miles. I was able to appreciate the beauty of the place that I'm in, and also get a better grip of the vast amount emotion that I'm currently dealing with.

Perspective is an important thing, especially when you lose it. You can feel like you're the only one that matters; that the world is just comprised of you. You can feel like no one else cares what you're thinking, or that you're trapped in the place that you are. But sometimes all you need to do is stretch your legs and challenge your soul to think more deeply and broadly. Sometimes all you need to do is escape the hustle and bustle of your life and your surroundings and let your mind do the talking. It may not solve everything in the end, but being able to see yourself as just one small piece of a cosmic puzzle is both terrifying and liberating. Sometimes all you need to do to find perspective is climb.

The Beginning of the End?

I know it's weird for me to be talking about the end of my time here, considering I still have a little under three months left in Scotland. However, for some weird reason, today seems to be the beginning of the end. I can't really explain why, but I have few ideas.

Firstly, the exam schedule came out today. It's really weird how this happens. When you start the semester you have no idea when your exams will be, except for the fact that they will be sometime between the 26th of April and the 28th of May. Yes, an entire month-long exam period. People complain all the time if they have two exams in one week, let alone four like most Americans are used to. So, for better or for worse, I had no idea what fate would hand me. Luckily enough, I found out today that my three exams are back-to-back-to-back. From the 18th to the 20th of May. This is great for many reasons--primarily because I have five full weeks off. Not time where I actually have to study, but five full weeks between the end of classes (26 March) until I need to think about studying (sometime at the beginning of May).

For one reason or another, being able to plan out the rest of my time here, since I now know when I have to take my exams, is very liberating, but it also tells me how little time I have left. Before I know it classes will be over. Then it's off to Spain and Italy. Then I'm back here for a while. Then I'm off to Ireland. Then I study. Then I take my exams, and then it's the end of May. Yes, maybe that's oversimplifying things a bit, but considering how fast time has been going whilst I'm in classes and going through the boring academic drudgery, I can only imagine that more unstructured, vacation-esque time will go ever faster.

Then there's the weather. I mentioned earlier how it smells like Spring is in the air. That trend has definitely continued. Ironically it's still 10 or so degrees colder than Maine--mostly the mid 40s during the day--but the seasons are definitely shifting. The grass is green, the sun is much warmer, and you just get that sense that things are going to start exploding into blossom any day now. This change in mindset also makes you really excited. Despite the lack of snow in Scotland, you still get cabin fever. You get tired of walking in the cold--having the wind whip your face. But now the breeze is lighter and more refreshing. People are starting to shed the old winter jackets for fleeces; some even wear shorts around here. Seeing the end classes near and having the change in the season is really a deadly combination if you're trying to stay calm.

The bottom line is that I feel as if the best part of the experience is about to come. I feel that once classes are over that I can take off the chain and start being free. Maybe I'm exaggerating, but I feel that the opportunity to travel and relax will make the end of the journey that much sweeter.

Until then, I can just enjoy the flat. We went to a club last night--one on campus. It wasn't that special, and besides the great chance to go out with the guys I can't say that I'd want to do it again. It was like a college dance with booze and strobe lights and while it was a fun experience it's not something that I would want to do on a regular occasion. However, the weekend was capped off with a huge roast dinner: lamb, potatoes, peas, Yorkshire puddings, fudge cake, and Tom's amazing hot pot. Despite the fact that the lamb took a good six hours to cook (should have defrosted it first) the whole thing turned out really well and it seemed to be a great bonding experience for all of us. While I definitely feel that there is a significant amount of difference between me and the rest of the guys, I genuinely enjoy being around them, just hanging, sharing laughs, even going out to the club or the pub. It's those sorts of friendships that you hope you'll be able to bring away from all of this.

Anyway, three weeks of classes to go. I laughed in February when someone told me that it would be March before you knew it. I guess they were right. And while I do yearn for home many a time--especially because my house is about to be sold and I have no idea where I'll be living once I return--I hope that I'll be able to savor every minute that I have left. I have definitely hit my stride, I can only hope that I keep a good pace and am able to smell the roses as I pass by.

The Value of Time

My mom sent me an email today, one sent to her by my dear friend and former Professor Bill Hiss. The body of the email contained an excerpt of the inaugural address from Bates' current President Elaine Tuttle Hansen. The subject was time. More importantly, it highlighted the fact that education--like so many things in this modern age--moves so quickly, without thinking about what is being missed as we whiz by. I was intrigued, because higher education seems to be all about how much we can cram into four years: distribution requirements, thesis, extracurricular activities and the like. It's all about quantity at times, rather than quality. Don't get me wrong, college is a time when you want to experience as much as you possibly can. At no other time will you be so free yet so involved; so learned yet so ignorant. The point is that we need to take it all in, but we also need to take the time to process what it is that we've experienced and more importantly take time to do absolutely nothing.

I read the excerpt of the speech and then moved down the thread to find the current edition of the Awanadjo Almanack, the publication put out by my Uncle Rob. Uncle Rob is a sage, to say the least. It was clear from the progression of the email, that my professor had sent this excerpt to my Uncle in response to a piece he wrote on the subject of time. In words that struck me as so simple, yet so profound and meaningful, Rob says this:

Therapists and clergy are busy treating stress-related diseases of the mind and soul. To relax, we rush off to the airport to fly at 400 miles per hour to hectic vacation spots, and then we rush back exhausted. We have no time for timelessness.

Meanwhile, the seasons still change at the same slow pace they have always kept. The sun still rises and sets no faster than ever. The planets ponderously move as they always did. And the length of our lives is still three-score and ten or four-score years as it was when the Psalms were set down three thousand years ago. So what’s the big hurry?

That’s why it’s so blissful to lose all track of time in simply daydreaming or reading or just sitting by the stove thinking on a blustery night. No stress, no pressure, no hurry. I like to take my own sweet time, and won’t easily let someone else take it from me. (Rob McCall, Awanadjo Almanack, Full Snow Moon, 26 Feb.-5 Mar. 2010).

What indeed is the big hurry? That's what I've been struggling with as of late. My life at Bates moves at a breakneck pace. It's up at 8:30 (yes, that's early for college kids), off to breakfast for 20 minutes, classes all day with reading time in the library crammed in. Then it's dinner, library for the rest of the night, maybe a solitary half hour then bed. Oh, and maybe some gym time or time with friends mixed in. One can see easily how that constant pace can be exhausting.

So when one gets the opportunity to take a semester abroad it seems as if the options are boundless. You can travel, you can sightsee, you can go out and party. I plan to do--and have done--all of these things. Yet on a day like this where I have one class and some reading to do, but plan to just sit and relax afterwards, I constantly struggle with a sense that I'm not doing enough. I see people travelling every weekend, going out every night, and having a great time while doing it. I wonder whether they found the right balance and I've come up short. Yet reading words like my Uncle Rob's seem to set me straight. This experience is something different to every person. It need not fit a cookie-cutter mold. You don't have to travel and party every waking minute in order to say that your time away was well spent.

As far as I'm concerned this is a sabbatical. The frantic pace of Bates will consume me in due course and while I hope to temper its speed and intensity a bit, there are some things which will have to remain stressful and time consuming. But as for now, I have the chance to just live. In the two short months that I've already spent in Scotland I have learned so many lessons--not only about Social Policy, but about me. I've learned to cook. I've learned to shop. I've learned to survive in an unfamiliar city. But I've also learned what makes me satisfied. I feel that if sitting with my flatmates and watching The Sopranos or Scrubs most nights did not make me happy then I would have changed my tune and done something different. But this isn't the case. While I plan to go out and explore--more than I already have--I also plan to take time for me. Study abroad for me is not just about a change of scenery, it's about a change of pace. I get to go slower. I get to take time for impromptu emails and instant messages in the middle of readings. I get time to write this blog. But I also get time to really interact with people. To forge friendships and to really experience what life is all about.

Yes, my lack of travel so far is in part due to lack of funds, or at least a desire to not go completely broke. But I'm also beginning to become very content with the path that I'm taking. I'm getting to take a step back from the rat race, to really pause and consider what means the most to me. It definitely wasn't the experience that I was expecting when I first set out for Scotland, but I'm a fervent believer that life gives you wonderful surprises along the way, especially when you think you want the opposite. I may not want to live life as slowly and methodically as Uncle Rob, but it is an important reminder that when you move too quickly; when you want to cram your time with every possible detail, you lose perspective of all the small things that make life worth living, and in my case what makes my experience in Edinburgh so fulfilling.

Spring?

So today is March 1st. Normally it means that it's the beginning of mud season. March in Maine is not really considered to be a beautiful time--more of melting snow and squishy ground than anything beautiful. Edinburgh is different. Now of course I don't know much about real springs--that is springs that don't start in May. But here...it's in the mid 40s, the sun is bright and warm, there is green grass and I can hear birds singing. Today was such a beautiful day--maybe because it's March but maybe because I feel as if things are looking up--in ways other than weather.

Yesterday I went to Ibrox for the Old Firm game (Rangers v. Celtic). Needless to say, it was the best day of my life, no joke. You can see all the pictures on my Facebook, but simply put, it was the greatest sporting event I had ever been to and completely lived up to my expectations. The chants were great, the colors were amazing, and Rangers won.

And paper season is over. No more essays at the University of Edinburgh ever again. It's time to get back to the simpler things in life, like reading and nothing else. I'm now a month away from spring break and my epic trip to Spain and Italy. Rangers are 10 points up in the league. The weather is beautiful and I'm in Scotland. Maybe spring isn't so bad after all!