Cinco de Mayo

One of the banes of my existence has been the lack of good Mexican food here in St Andrews. And I feel like I can use that to speak for the UK in general. If you want Indian, the UK is great. Apparently Mexico is too far away (and what with it never being colonized by the Brits) to get good (or even adequate) Mexican food here.

But, with it being Cinco de Mayo, the most American of Mexican holidays, many of us here take it upon ourselves to do the best we can and recreate the flavors so many of us Americans are craving.

It's funny what you miss when you're half way around the world, isn't it?


Sarah and Kate making food. Mmm, homemade guacamole...


Guacamole, nachos, shrimp, black beans that were finishing up on the stove so not in the picture, and the always classic Cinco de Mayo staple -- Corona. The classiest of beers.


The bright idea to make churros. It's apparently a three person job to fill the ziploc aka piping bag.


They didn't come out quite churro shaped... but still tasty.

I could've eaten an entire bowl of Kate's guacamole. Seriously, just give me a spoon and I'd be set.

Actually, maybe I should just make that for dinner tomorrow night. No shame in doing that if no one's watching, right?

Vacation's Over

Chris-Anne hopped the bus back to Edinburgh this afternoon. Her flight back to the States is at 7am tomorrow morning, so it made more sense for her to stay in Edinburgh tonight than to try and figure out how to get out of St Andrews at 4am. Something about liking sleep... I know, crazy.

So her pallet is rolled up, blankets are folded, and her little nest is gone. The floor is clear again and I don't have to worry about falling over her as I try to open the door while she's asleep.

It's not a lot of space in my room, but it sure feels a bit big and empty right now.

Fàilte gu Inbhir Nis

For the last part of Chris-Anne's visit (after a couple of days of work for me and independent nosing around for Chris-Anne), we decided to head up to the Highlands so she could claim she'd seen most of the country. We decided to base ourselves out of Inverness because, one, castles nearby, two, Loch Ness nearby, and three... did I mention castles? We're suckers for pretty history. And as the northern-most city in Scotland (and the entire United Kingdom at that), our other option was picking a tiny town with minimal bus service. So, Inverness it is!

Plus, going up to Inverness meant that Chris-Anne could get the train ride she'd been hoping for for the entire trip. It's cheaper to take the bus to Edinburgh and to Glasgow, but I'm not sitting on a bus all the way to Inverness when there is a comfortable and frequent set of trains that leave from both Leuchars and Dundee.


Going from Dundee to Inverness, you have to switch trains in Perth -- which also means navigating the M.C. Escher like staircases in the Perth station to get from platform to platform.

One of the awesome things about heading into the Highlands is that all of the location signs and most other signs go bilingual -- both the English (Inverness) and the Scottish Gaelic (Inbhir Nis) in an attempt to preserve the native language of the area. While there are no longer any monolingual speakers of Gaelic once you hit school age, the language is experiencing a renaissance in an attempt to preserve its every day usage.


Overlooking Inverness, and the River Ness which runs through it.

By the time we got into Inverness and checked into the hostel (we're young, we're cheap, and since all we were using it for was a place to store bags and lay a head down for a few hours each night, a hostel is the perfect choice) we'd missed a lot of the last buses out to any of the historical areas outside of town, so we set about walking around the city itself and exploring picturesque Inverness.


Overlooking Inverness down the River Ness, from the lawn of the Inverness Castle and the Flora MacDonald monument. This is also the official ending point of the Great Glen Way.


It was crazy windy, and I couldn't find my hair tie at the bottom of my purse, so all of the pictures we have include me attempting to hold my hair back.


A better view of Inverness Castle from the opposing bank of the River Ness. While this is a modern (and by modern, I mean from the 1800s) structure and now houses the court house, a castle/defensive structure has stood on that spot since the 1057, and associated with the scandals and murders surrounding Macbeth and Malcolm III.


Down by the River Ness. I love a pretty walk, and after sitting on the train for a couple hours, I want to move around. Chris-Anne, on the other hand, has about reached her walking around limit and votes to head back to the hostel for next day planning and finding food.

We ended up staying at the Inverness Youth Hostel which, while a bit of a walk from the city centre, was lovely. It's a new building, and we ended up in a four bed dorm room with lovely people. On the downside, there was apparently a whole bus load of French teenagers on what we're assuming was a field trip of some kind also staying with us. Thin walls + idiot teenagers = it's a good thing I remembered to bring ear plugs. But it's apparently a universal truth -- teenagers are loud and idiots everywhere. Which is kind of comforting knowing some things stay the same. But if people are ever in Inverness, I'd totally recommend the hostel. Even with it being a 10 minute walk from the city centre -- you pass right by a Morrison's, which makes it easy to pick up food and drink on the way back in.


Our dorm room at the hostel. Chris-Anne and I were the last two in, which meant top bunks for us. Not too keen on the top, but beggars can't be choosers.


Chris-Anne with the spread of bus timetables as we attempted to plan out the next day.

The general consensus was to get up early and head out to Culloden Battlefield the next morning to take advantage of the gorgeous day that it was forecast to be. And after a day long of traveling and walking Chris-Anne all over the city, and even with loud teenagers in the new rooms over, we crashed just as soon as heads hit the pillow.

One of Those Days

Even days that are on a whole good can be 'one of those days'.

Chris-Anne and I decided to go back into Edinburgh today for a proper visit, since when we wandered around she was coming off of 24 hours of transatlantic travel and it was rainy. Today was supposed to be gorgeous, and that made it the perfect day to wander around.

That perfect day started off with both of us ignoring the alarm clock for an hour. Which put us on the later bus than we'd intended.

No worries, so we're an hour behind. It's all good.

It's all good until the kid behind us makes the comment that he's 'not keen on transport'. Okay, sure, not everyone likes being on a bus for an hour and a half. Apparently he missed the memo that if you get motion sick, you should take a pill, sit in the front, and have a plastic bag with you as a courtesy to other passengers. Because no one likes it when you vomit on a bus. Especially when it goes between the seats and gets on my arm. Win.

After that 'but at least it makes a great story' start to the day, we make it to Edinburgh Castle, which was one of two things that Chris-Anne just had to do. Which, I love the castle, so I'm always up for exploring it.


Chris-Anne looking fashionably nonchalant beside one of the cannons.


Since it's Mother's Day here in the UK, they had costumed actors all through the buildings, which was pretty cool. Here in the Great Hall, there was Queen Mary and that Protestant rabblerouser John Knox having words.


And with a beautiful day, we climbed to one of the high points to get a shot overlooking New Town. It was ridiculously windy and cold at that point, though.


Which meant that we decided to take pictures of each other taking pictures and being cold. Artistic, no?


With all of that walking around, Chris-Anne's next statement was 'we need a pub'. A good seat and a good drink sounds like a plan to me, especially with the second thing that she wanted to do coming up.


Ah, this one will do.


The delightful mix of exhaustion and excitement.


With our whistles whetted, we move on to the next thing she requested -- Chris-Anne wanted a ghost tour. Apparently Edinburgh is one of the most haunted cities in Europe, and that's too much to pass up for her. Me? Never a huge fan of something to intentionally scare me. But Chris-Anne wants to go down in the vaults, so why not?


Why not? Vaults are small, and stone, and underground, and dank, and dark, and did I mention small? Oh... did I not mention I'm slightly claustrophobic?

The tour was slightly cheesy, but the feeling of being in a small space was enough to make me uncomfortable and give me the heebijeebies. Fresh air for the win, after that.

But at least we still had plenty of time to catch the last bus back to St Andrews.

Oh, wait, here's the other part of that 'it makes a good story' time. Apparently they've changed the Sunday schedule without changing the time tables in the bus stations, or indicating the new start date on the web. So what nine of us thought was the bus to Glenrothes to connect to get into St Andrews turned out to just end in Glenrothes. With the nine of us standing outside in the cold and realizing there's something wrong when no bus comes and a look on the web on what is indicated as the unchanged normal schedule (last updated Dec 2009, my ass) now indicates that this was the last bus to Glenrothes and the last connection to St Andrews left an hour previously.

It cost £35 between me and Chris-Anne to get a taxi from Glenrothes to St Andrews. Color me unamused. I'm sure that someday it will be a funny story, this trip to Edinburgh, however, tonight I want nothing more than a sandwich and to curl up in bed.

Tomorrow we're going to Glasgow... surely the travel gods have to smile on me more this time...

Fife Coastal Path

Chris-Anne and I decided to explore a bit of the Fife Coastal Path -- which runs from the Forth Estuary in the south, to the Tay Estuary in the north and stretches for 150 kms. We explored just a tiny, tiny part of it, including the bits within view of St Andrews and down to the spindle, which is a rock formation that looks similar to a sewing spindle.

Again, as soon as we walk outside the beautiful day turns into something infinitely more gray and cold. We're pretty sure bad weather is following Chris-Anne through her vacation.


In case you were wondering... yes, it was still incredibly windy.


The beach past East Sands along the coastal path. With the tide out, the rocks are strewn with moss and the green is both surprising and amazing.


Chris-Anne indicating St Andrews in the background.


Contemplative on the beach.


I'm a fast walker, so inevitably I'm the first up to the top of the hill. The seagull approves.


I'm much less contemplative and much more 'ooh, look at the pretty' out in the wonders of nature.

Visitor From Home

Being on spring break has been a lovely reprieve from the hustle and bustle of the regular semester -- even if I know it goes into hyperdrive as soon as we get back. But one of the best things about spring break?

A friend from home coming across the pond to visit!

My friend Chris-Anne decided to grace me with her presence as she's killing time before becoming a productive member of society again. And what better way to kill time than to come and visit bonnie Scotland? Nothing, I say. We need to figure out what's up for the rest of her visit, but today we wandered around St Andrews and I introduced her to my cute little burg.

The cute little burg that had been sunny and warm for the past 2 weeks straight. As soon as she lands? Cloudy, windy, rainy, and really really cold.



Did I mention windy?

Welcome Spring

Yesterday was the first day of spring, and it couldn't come soon enough. The days are getting longer, the sun seems to be out more and more each day (way to burst through the Scottish clouds, sun!), and the temperature seems to be creeping ever so slightly up. Today I was even a bit warm in my fleece. Tomorrow I may, gasp and astound, just wear a sweater. Love it.

And to welcome spring, there was a bonfire on the castle sands last night. A good chance to sit, chat with friends, welcome in the new season, and check out the awesome supermoon that was hanging over the horizon (because Astronomy is great, I don't care if that does make me a space geek).

It also gave everyone a chance to chuckle at me because no one realized just how much of a space geek I am. Yes, I had to point out the supermoon whenever anyone mentioned how big it seemed tonight. Of course, they also had a moment of 'how do the tides work?' since we were sitting on the beach. With me trying to bite my tongue, because they don't want the lecture -- until Rachel rolls her eyes and goes 'alright... Rebecca, how do tides work?' Again, not my fault I know thing *lol*

My epitaph will read "Rebecca... she knew things."

The pictures are dark, but then it was the middle of the night.


The moon coming up over St Andrews from the castle sands


The bonfire that brave souls were jumping over to cleanse negativity from the winter and start spring fresh


Me and Rachel chilling on the beach

Yo Ho Ho

One paper down, and one more to go before I can put a close on last semester. So, out with Aristotle and Machiavelli, and in with pirates.



I have decided that Villains of All Nations has to be the best title of a research book I've used. Pirates make everything more enjoyable.

And of course, pirates (and the House Hunters International from Argentina I watched yesterday) remind me of the very important shout out this post needs:

Happy Birthday, Amanda. I don't know if you'll see this before you hop on your next plane, train, automobile, boat, burro or tuk tuk on your grand adventure, but just know that I'm raising a glass to you even if I'm not there to do it in person. You deserve both the yo ho ho AND the bottle of rum :)

A Very British Thanksgiving

As my flatmates are all non-American, none of them had had the experience of the best of American holidays before -- Thanksgiving. A day where you celebrate food. (Regardless of original reasons behind the creation, nowadays we celebrate food. Gluttony, really, but let's just go with food)

So as a good American, I made Thanksgiving dinner for us. Which was a wonderful chance to one, bring out my inner Martha Stewart, and two, to have a nice meal, with all of us together, and let me enjoy a little bit of home here across the pond.

I tend to go with simple veggies and a rotisserie chicken (it was on sale -- turkey wasn't). Although it was funny wandering around St Andrews watching the Americans in town clamor through the Tesco looking for very American ingredients or trying to come up with a UK equivalent. At that point? Just realize you're not going to make it EXACTLY like it was at home. But that's part of the fun of it!

Anyway, I was a good day. Good food, good friends, and a touch of home. I hope everyone else had as good of a day!

St Leonard's Dinner

It's thankless to be a postgrad, really. You look out your window to see undergrads running around outside, making fools of themselves (I'm looking at you, Raisin Weekend), while you're cooped up inside, reading book after book that only tangentially relates to your paper/discussion/dissertation in an attempt to not sound like a fool when someone questions you about your program.

However, this can all be fixed by the wonders of free food and wine.

One of the traditions of St Andrews is the St Leonard's Dinners. St Leonard's College is the postgrad college here at the University of St Andrews and once a semester the Provost will host a formal dinner for postgrads lucky enough to get a ticket.

And by lucky enough, I mean awake early enough on a Saturday morning to send an email at a specific time in the vain hopes of getting a ticket.

Which, because they had me at free, I was indeed one of them who got her stuff in on time to get a ticket to last Wednesday's dinner. A handful of us from IPT got tickets and while I've pretty much given up on the hope that more than three IPT students can get together and have a gathering with pleasant conversation (by which is mean the American Southern definition with everyone ignoring topics that are known to cause glowering across the table) it was a fun night. An excuse to get dressed up is always appreciated.


The IPT group after dinner.


Sadly, getting tickets to this dinner means that we aren't eligible for next semester's dinner, but they did mention something about a ball...

Study Group Wednesday

After realizing that all of the other M.Litt programs had study groups while ours had none, the four women in my program decided that we needed a group. So the four of us have declared Wednesday study group day for ourselves. The readings are dense enough and numerous enough that it's always a good thing to have a second, third, or fourth opinion before we go into class and attempt to be the one to yell the loudest so as to get the floor and present an idea.

Plus, and this may be the women's college grad in me talking, but I think it's important for women to have a place to share ideas without having to yell over men in an attempt to be heard. We're four out of fourteen, and while that's more women than are usually in International Relations programs, it's still only four out of fourteen.

So Wednesdays will be ours.

That made for a productive afternoon, so what could make for a productive evening?



Fajitas!

One of the girls and her flatmate and I went out to dinner at The Grill House here in town in the search for something delicious. Now, there is a decided lack of Mexican/Southwestern/Tex Mex/whatever food here. This is understandably, as we are no where near that area. But you'd think with the obscene number of Americans here that someone would get on the ball and open up a Chipotle or something -- they'd make a killing. And of course as soon as something is out of sight, that's all you want. I'd been craving this for weeks now, and we stumbled in and found fajitas and enchiladas, and while no where near as spicy as the ones back home, still pretty darn good considering the alternative is nothing. Here's to you, fajitas.

I still plan on making you soon with my own recipe, though. You were good but not THAT good.

Care Package!

One of the most interesting (and most frustrating) things of living abroad is getting used to what you can and cannot find easily in your new home. Things you took for granted at home suddenly become like gold when you can't just walk into a Walgreens or a Target and find entire walls of what you're looking for. Take for example soft-headed toothbrushes. In the states, these are what everyone buys (unless you're cleaning grout) and what dentists give along with awesome small toothpastes and rolls of floss and they are sold cheaply in packs of three for a couple of dollars.

In the UK? Not so much. Everywhere I look I find medium and firm toothbrushes, but I don't want a medium or a firm toothbrush. I want a nice, gum-friendly, enamel-preserving, soft-headed toothbrush. Looking in the Boots becomes a hunt and the only soft-headed toothbrush you can find that they even sell is a very high tech looking one for no less than £5. Seriously, people? Not cool.

Well, here's where the glory of friends come in.

I was (naturally) complaining about the sad state of available toothbrushes in Scotland to my friend Stacey. Who comes knocking on my door this morning but the friendly Royal Mail carriers with a...



Care package!

Seriously, one of the joys of life anywhere is mail -- actual, legitimate, 'I took the time to go out and get a stamp and write with a pen/crayon/pencil/whatever' mail. Postcards, letters (Hi Mom!) and all of that, love it. Makes me so happy to see those come through the mail slot in the door. So to get not just a letter, but a box? Dance of joy and a tossing down of Aquinas' Summa Theologica to tear into it.

Soft toothbrushes! Crystal Light! Dark Chocolate! Philosophy body wash in a yummy fall scent since, grrr, I had to leave my collection at home because of British Airways weight restrictions! Cheesy romance novel set in Scotland! (Yes, I like my literature light & fluffy to counteract the Summa Theologica) And American GQ -- which, why would she send me American GQ?



Matt Bomer in henley! Damn. For those who haven't discovered the smooth hotness that is Matt Bomer, he plays the lead on USA's White Collar. Which... makes me miss American television too. But dang, he pretty.

It's like mini-Christmas from the US Postal Service.

Makes up for the hours of reading and the ridiculous cold wind that was blowing through town today. It's only October, but I'm already bundled up with scarf, hat, winter coat. I guess it's part and parcel of being right on the North Sea, but still. And I'm one of the ones who hasn't been all that cold lately. So if I'm cold, I can only imagine what the Americans from places like Florida are feeling right now.

On the plus side? Cold + rain + wind + sunset = gorgeous fall colors :)