"Freedom to Roam"

My first academic week is finished! Not bad, really. 3 day weekend, with Wednesdays off too. I think I've decided to replace the intro philosophy with a course in international relations. I sat in on the lecture (with 400 of my peers, I might add. I've never been a part of a class that big), and I really enjoyed it, not least because the professor had a spectacularly dry sense of humor and wore his billowing academic robes to teach.

Outside of class, this week has been the trial period for "societies" that I'm considering joining. Thus far I've attended Celtic dancing, Doctor Who Appreciation Society (big win), Poetry and Cake (eh...the idea is great, but it's poorly organized, and they seem very unwilling to entrust the club to a coordinator), and Amnesty International (very successful. I'm taking notes). Juggling club is Saturday, but I can't go, because I'll be castle-hopping with Juliana and John. Off to explore the wild moors of Fife! I'm excited to leave campus, and Juliana and John are great company. We've formed a kind of triumvirate together, which has been pretty comfortable and fun thus far. We balance each other well.

I attended my first formal ceilidh (pronounced "kay-lee") tonight! Of course, I've been attending celtic dancing, so it wasn't my first experience, but this one had live music (drums, accordion, and fiddle), and a live caller. For those not familiar, a ceilidh is kind of like contra or line dancing in the States. You learn the dance, usually a pretty simple sequence involving partners and groups, then set it to music in 4/4 time. Really easy, really fun. The key to ceilidh is to be as enthusiastic as possible. My favorite dances were with people who weren't necessarily fantastic dancers, but who enjoyed just bouncing up and down to the rhythm of the music and generally having a blast. The ceilidh was actually being held for the residents of David Russell Apartments (where Juliana and John live), but as I've kind of been adopted into both of their flats and get on very well with all of their flatmates, I didn't feel at all out of place. Come to think of it, the 2 most memorable, enjoyable events that I've attended here were intended for residents of halls not my own: namely, the ceilidh and the bonfire I attended on Saturday. I danced 3 times with a person named Michael, nicknamed "Sam" (standing for Socially Awkward Michael), and his goofy personality and general enthusiasm made him a fantastic partner. Michael has this wonderful sense of humor, highly reminiscent of John Cleese. He has this way of saying "BUCKinghamshire!" that cracks me up every time. But yeah, one goofy kid.

Yesterday I went on a run with John that was kind of by the seat of our pants. Well, all of our runs have started out this way, mainly because we aren't sure of a good route yet. We hopped a fence, intent on running across "frothy" fields and exploring the Fife countryside. Which we did, pretty successfully, but we passed through several patches of stinging nettles (I'm still scratching) and got chased by dogs. Well, not really "chased." It's a bad idea to run from a dog. They just kind of charged us, then about 10 feet away stopped and barked. Ferociously, I might add. Perhaps we took the "freedom to roam" a little too close to heart. There are still vicious dogs to contend with. So it was an adventure! It was approaching dusk, and from our vantage point we could view the hills to the south (that I'd like to explore soon) and the town, with St. Salvator's Chapel Steeple, nestled in the folds of the terrain. It was the "golden hour," as some photographers call it, and we were essentially living in a postcard, or maybe some 18th century Romantic novel (as Liz put it). We returned to St. Andrews (yes, we actually left St. Andrews! It was a good feeling), our feet soaked and our legs covered in welts, but none the worse for wear. And I applaud John's sense of intrepid adventure; I certainly wouldn't have done it myself.

Ack, it's so late. Good night, you kings of Maine, you princes of New England.