Safely o'er the friendly main

Having arrived safely in Edinburgh, legally and in high spirits, I promptly unpacked and... conked out. (The hours on the phone discussing my lack of a student visa proved useless when the Dublin immigrations officer merely asked to see my letter of acceptance. Relief!) But I fell asleep. Only to wake up at roughly noon. Sleep again until three, then sleep until five. At six o'clock, I went to what I thought would be bed for the night. Alas. I woke up at midnight and found it impossible to fall asleep again. So I stayed up.

People I have met:

A French boy and Scottish girl who live in flats 2 and 3 at 102, and whose names I cannot for the life of me recall.
Noah, the boy from Seattle who goes to Haverford. He sat beside me on the plane from Dublin to Edinburgh.
Heather, the girl who goes to school in Arizona but lives in California.
Shahreen, a girl from Pakistan who broke my heart by telling me she goes to Vassar.
Adam, from Milford, who lives in flat 12 and is very much like a nervous, shy Michael Ross. Only less right-wing and argumentative.

At orientation, they declared Edinburgh the brainiest city in Europe (most degrees per capita, natch) and highlighted the monuments of David Hume and fellow thinkers that are unusual. "Typically its war heroes and military leaders that get monuments, but not in Edinburgh." I laughed and thought back to Boston and my recent Sam Adams pictures. I do love me some rabble-rousers. But the thing is, Sammy is right next to writers and thinkers. Boston is a city as seeped in academia, but that's not the point.

I love this city. Minarets and towers, churches and cathedrals, and when, in a rush of exhaustion and frustration, I began to regret my decision to study abroad at all, when I began to feel like I'd made a horrible mistake that would never be rectified -- whose face should peer out at me from behind a plate-glass window?

Yes.

This city is that perfect.

Jackson Browne was staring out at me and I remembered why I was here. Why I love traveling. Even though it was a moment of warm familiarity, of homey goodness, I was so glad for it. It was just enough, not too much, and my shoulders uncurled themselves.

Also, this afternoon I was sitting in a bar on South Clerk Street, and they were playing the NFL playoffs. Philly beat the Giants, hallelujah, and the Steelers beat San Diego. I discovered boys who know less about (American) football than I do! I almost improvised some bullshit explanation about how the game was played, but it surely would have ended with, "But really, the team with the most homo-erotic points wins, so touchdowns don't mean anything." Anyway, sitting there, all of a sudden, Mark Knopfler starts coming out of the speakers. I mean, really? Really Edinburgh? Thank you! I sat there for two hours, but my bill only came to three pounds, forty pence. So when it came time to pay the bill, I put a five-pound note on the little tray and the waitress went to get change. When I told her I didn't need any change, she practically fell apart into little beams of light. (And that, folks, is how we do it in America. Except, our waitresses are far less appreciative. There, we tip a lot so they won't spit in our food. And they consider a twenty-percent tip a right, not a perk. Fools.)

The city. Minarets and towers, cobblestones and harsh, warm winds. It's much, much warmer than I expected. "It's so cold," they've all been saying, "So sorry the weather isn't as welcoming as it should be." Seriously? It's high thirties at worst. It feels like September. My feet were sweating today as I walked around the city. Crossing the street is an adventure. I keep forgetting which way to look first. People are out and around playing soccer -- football -- all the time. It's pitch black at 7 AM, because the sun comes up only after 8 AM. This will take some getting used to. I'm sure that at some point I will stop being awake for sunrise. When the jet lag is gone.

Oh! Here's something super cool. If you have a map open in front of you and scratch your head, every person on the sidewalk will offer you directions. And the cab drivers are chatty, really friendly, and will stop their meters to wait for you. They warn you against the Polish cab drivers, too.

Around every corner is another old building, another gorgeous view of the city. There are hills in this city. Big, green, undeveloped hills. For hiking. Yeah. Hiking. (I know, right? That's exactly what I said!) I found a sitar/belly dancing shop. The Scottish version of Hot Topic, and, oh yeah, walking around a park today, there was a rainbow. An enormous, perfectly formed rainbow. Because why the hell not?

The construction workers are all so posh, too. Initially, I was sort of like, "Oh, hey! My people!" Until I noticed the Burberry scarves and polished boots, of course. How could I not laugh? Walking out my door every day, I cannot believe I live here, in this city whose newest areas are older than Boston's oldest. It doesn't seem fair. My life is certainly charmed, eh?

If you start looking for signs, they are everywhere. But they all say different things. Does coincidence exist? Did I look up at just the right moment, or did just the right moment grab me and force my eyes up? I guess that depends on whether you put faith in horoscopes or not. Are we supposed to be where we are, or is it all happenstance? What is inevitability?

"What's coming is coming. We just have to be here to meet it when it does."

People I will/already miss:

Mom, Dad
J+D
KJB and family
SV
Favorite Cousin
The Parks family
Grandma
Grandpa
Uncle Bobby, baby Bobby
Squeaky and family
Cory
Rachael
Hannah
The kids at the preschool
Brian W.
Brian L.
Brian M.
Christopher Semple
(I may have missed you... I'm sorry if I did..)




Things I will/already miss:

Dunkin Donuts whenever I please
Greasy pizza and salty french fries
Dad's omelets
Zevon
Hendrix
two-hour phone conversations
the American movie industry
water pressure
Cranberry bogs
Panera
Making jewelry
Snowstorms
Snow flurries
Snow
My DVD collection
HD TV
Homemade cookies
Texting Matt during Sox games
Texting Matt whenever, about anything Sox-related
Regularly heated rooms
Working at the preschool



My mailing address:

Ashley Weckbacher
102/13 Warrender Park Road
Edinburgh
EH9 1DN
The UK


Send me stuff and I'll reciprocate, I promise.

From Scotland.


Listen to:
"Leaves and Kings," by Josh Ritter