Wanderlust: (n.) a strong desire to travel
Dec. 31, 2014: I was right when I said I wouldn’t get any sleep that night. I probably didn’t pass out until about 8 a.m., or that was at least what my alarm showed the last time I looked at it. I woke up at noon to the sound of One Direction serenading me to get out of bed. The day was finally here. I was about to embark on the craziest journey of my life. I was about to leave the country for the first time ever, and what better reason to do so than study abroad in Scotland with one of my good friends, Felicia.
I thought a two-hour flight to Florida was bad – babies crying loud enough to crush my dream of ever having children, learning to hold my need to use the bathroom since every time the unit was unoccupied lasted about .583 seconds – try an 11 hour flight. It’s a blast. I tried to sleep through most of it; probably got about five hours in, but I would take it, considering Ireland time is five hours ahead. We finally touched down at Dublin, Ireland and got through the airport pretty easily, even earlier than we were scheduled. With plenty of time to spare, we went to check in at the Aer Lingus desk, whose company we would be flying with to Edinburgh. Before I knew it, we touched down in Scotland. As we hopped our way down the path, I read “Edinburgh” in huge letters, plastered on the airport. We made it.
Those short two weeks spent studying in Scotland flew by. I went to class, played tourist and definitely had the most enriching experience of my lifetime. The title of our program was called “Communication, Culture and Identity.” I learned the ways to communicate with locals, as well as tourists, I learned more than I could ever want to learn about Scottish history and culture, and I ultimately learned who I am as a person by meeting and getting to know some incredible Scotsmen, as well as the lovely group of classmates with whom I was experiencing it all. In the beginning, I wasn't very confident in myself. Many people see me as a loud and outgoing person, but I can be quite shy and reserved. I found myself dancing in Scottish bars with my classmates to the blasting bass of traditional Scottish music. The traditional bagpipe music of Scotland was very celebrated. I was pleased to see bagpipe players amongst other varieties of street performers as I strolled around Edinburgh. Even when we were dancing to music inside bars, bagpipe music was alive. Every once in a while, in between the typical upbeat music being played, traditional bagpipe songs were played – and people loved it. Scotts even got on top of tables to dance to the classic music, and you guessed it – I got up there, too.
When non-Scottish people think of Scotland, they probably think of stereotypical Scottish tartanry and kailyard, such as bagpipes and kilts. Although Scottish culture is so much more than that, I was pleasantly surprised to witness how passionate residents actually still are about these examples. I struck up conversations with sweetest and most random city folks that I passed while roaming the cobble roads, and saw many men wearing kilts. I had thought maybe Scotts would be embarrassed by the jokes of kilts the rest of the world seems to make, but no – men seemed to strut their stuff and wear their kilts with pride.
Myths are also extremely important in Scottish culture. As we discussed in class, myths help us meet needs, such as entertainment, hope and desire. One myth that Scotland identifies with is Nessie, the Loch Ness Monster. Nessie puts Scotland on the main stage, yet I would think many locals probably dislike the tale due to the tourism the story attracts.
It is comforting for everyone to believe in something they cannot see, regardless of religious beliefs, etc. That is why myths have an even deeper level of magic, because they have that power to bring “very different” people together. Many people believe we should let nature be, but nonetheless, Nessie’s current lesson as a symbol is that not everything can be explained.
The most prominent artifacts I saw in Scotland were the castles (architecture), especially Edinburgh Castle on the Royal Mile. When I first saw the Royal Mile in all of its glory, the only thing I could immediately relate it to was New York City. The seemingly endless strip was beautiful, exciting and touristy, and then I glanced up to the very top of the street and saw a magnificent castle. This seemed a little odd and out of place to me at first.
In all of the castles we saw, including Urquhart Castle on our trip to the highlands, I saw such gorgeous architecture that I definitely do not remember seeing in New York City, or anywhere in America for that matter. Even when we visited the city of Glasgow – the slightly decaying architecture was so appreciated and well preserved, to the extent where new buildings were created around the old constructions. When I picture (most of) America, I imagine very modern buildings and towns that do not have anywhere near the admiration of castles and architecture as the Scottish do. If similar styles of structural design exist in America, I look forward to trying to find it.
Mentifacts represent the ideas, values, and/or beliefs of a culture. One thing I definitely noticed during my time in Scotland was how much Scottish people appreciate - let alone remember – their history. Personally, I am not proud of how little I could tell someone about America’s history. That was one thing that made me feel a little ashamed to be an ([a] stupid) American. I thought about American culture for a split second. Why would a white person interested in running for a political position want to learn about the importance of Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King Jr., how slaves were treated, etc. Through this experience, I learned that if I can bring it all home and apply it to myself, making it relevant to me, suddenly it becomes a lot more interesting. I went to Scotland with a stereotypical “U.S.A. is number one” mentality, yet in reality, I fear I could not back that up with anything. Experiencing Scotland has not only inspired me to learn more about other cultures and histories, but also learn more about my own.
If you were to ask me what I remember most about my study abroad experience, the answer is not hearing the waves of Loch Ness crash at my feet. It isn’t sipping on a latte in The Elephant Cafe, the birthplace of Harry Potter. It isn’t even climbing to the top of Sir Arthur’s Seat, where my knee gave out and caused me and my roommate to gracefully crash in a puddle of mud; it is the overwhelming sense of understanding and appreciation of culture I gained from all of the time I spent observing in my travels. Those short two weeks spent studying in Scotland were two of the best weeks of my life.
Boarding that last plane was so bittersweet. We were extremely anxious and relieved to be on our way home, but so done with traveling at the same time. The thought of another 11 hour trip was even more draining, but we realized pretty quickly that the 20 drunk middle-aged men flying with us would make the journey a little more interesting. Everyone knows the song “500 Miles,” and if you were a passenger on our flight that didn’t…you sure knew it by the end of the flight. And even though it was the middle of Jan., the drunks gave us an encore performance of Christmas carols. Before traveling outside of America, I had never heard a real Irish accent. Before this flight, I never knew Irish accents reach such high pitches. After several hours of sleep intertwined with several plane-wide caroling sessions started by the drunk Irishmen, we arrived in Baltimore.
I ran to my parents when I saw them way down at the end of the terminal. I nearly jumped into my mom’s arms, and my dad held us both and kissed the top of my head. I was finally home. I turned to see Felicia reuniting with her family, too.
We looked into each other’s eyes for about half a second before the tears started to flow and vision was impossible. We just smiled and hugged each other for what almost seemed longer than all of the flights combined.
“We did it, girl. We are home,” she whispered to me mid-hug. She handed me something in a bag and we said our goodbyes then proceeded to leave.
One of my favorite quotes is by Ralph Waldo Emerson and reads, “Life is a journey, not a destination.” Similarly, my favorite poem is one by Robert Frost. “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I / I took the one less traveled by, / and that has made all the difference.” Those roads – or should I say planes – we took would certainly not be the ideal route that a typical person would choose. But in retrospect, I wouldn’t change a thing.
“So, how was it?!” my mom asked me as we packed my bags in the back of our mini van and climbed into the seats. I smiled and shook my head before I could even think of how to answer that.
“It was…incredible. Easily the best experience of my life,” I said, to put it simply.
But what she didn’t know, what my professor wouldn’t know, even what all but one of my classmates wouldn’t know, is that the true meaning of a cultural sojourner, is to always keep your eyes open. Because if you do so, you never really stop traveling, do you? You don’t have to break the bank. You don’t have to travel thousands of miles. You don’t even have to leave a college campus to have an experience “abroad.” You just need to open your eyes, open your door, and don’t be afraid to travel.
