Maggie

Newtonmore

Published on January 4, 2016December 29, 2020 by MaggieLeave a comment

Every year the St Andrews cross country team ventures to the Highlands for an end of term celebratory away trip. I am so incredibly fortunate that I got to be a part of this tradition, and it was wonderful to escape “The Bubble” for a weekend of adventures and quality companionship.

We stayed in the quaint hamlet of Newtonmore, which we ran around on Saturday morning. Unfortunately, early in the run I hit a bit of loose stones and rolled the ankle that I had injured las semester. Needless to say, that made the remainder of the run a bit uncomfortable. I was so embarrassed that I slowed everyone down, and I was ashamed that I could not simply tough it out and keep up with the group. Though everyone was patient and concerned, I strongly dislike people fussing over me.

However, my injury was not too severe as to keep me hostel-bound for the afternoon hike. We journeyed about an hour to the west according to Roger’s, the team’s resident Sacagawea, recommendation. Here we spent about three hours hiking up mountains and journeying to ruined forts. Once we reached the fort, we had a small picnic overlooking the pictured loch. Words cannot describe how peaceful it was, lunching with some really unique and friendly people in such a beautiful place.

Saturday evening wound down with some delicious home cooked food, board games, and general chit-chat. The next morning we vacated the Newtonmore hostel and made our way back to St Andrews, stopping briefly in Pitlochry for a wee run. Unfortunately, my ankle was too weak to run with my usual group, so I stayed back with Ruth, the team captain, Rhiannon, who had kindly helped me with my earlier injury, and Roger, my fellow injury-prone runner, for a nice jaunt around the river that moseyed through the town. After a brief rest in the cafe with scones and tea, everyone made it back to St Andrews refreshed and ready to begin preparing for exams.

Though I had some minor misfortune, I still had a wonderful time on this trip. I am so thankful that I am part of a club brimming with just as much wanderlust as myself. I absolutely love my cross country team, and getting to spend some quality time with them without the stress of classes and deadlines was lovely. I think some of my favorite memories from this trip include our rousing round of Richard Gere (I still maintain that Cecil Beaton is a well-known historical figure), Roger’s compass and hand drawn map that took us five miles out of our way on Saturday’s run, and the baby sheep that joined us when we jaunted through the fields. Though I am excited to return home for the summer, it is bittersweet to think that I will have to spend three months without these people I have grown so close with. This weekend was truly a memorable one, and I am already looking forward to the next adventure.

Originally written 28 April 2013

An Unexpected Visit

Published on January 4, 2016December 29, 2020 by MaggieLeave a comment

As an unexpected surprise, my dad has flown into St Andrews for a few days of merry relaxation before he heads to London on business. Already quite familiar with St Andrews, I decided to pack up the head Hobbit and head over to the quiet, quaint, coastal town of Crail, about half an hour by bus away from St Andrews.

To say I fell a little bit in love with Crail is an understatement. While St Andrews is a very lovely place to be, sometimes all of the students and tourists can get overwhelming. Crail was quiet and clean, a St Andrews without all the bustle of haggard students and raucous travelers.

The views of the sea at Crail were unparalleled. A wider view of open ocean met us as we exited the bus, and we had the opportunity to venture right down onto the mossy rocks for a closer look at the sea. When I returned home over Christmas, the sea was the element of Scotland I missed most, and after this trip to Crail, I would definitely say that its coast is the best. The air was clean, the sky was clear, and the gulls cried upon the wind: perfectly picturesque and most undoubtedly Maggie.

After some gallivanting, my dad and I wandered into the Crail Harbor Gallery, a wee tea room situated in a 300 year old cellar. The interior boasted exposed ceiling beams and uneven floors, completely magical. However, because the day was so wonderfully pristine, we took our afternoon tea out on the patio, overlooking the delightful surf.

All in all, I adored Crail. It is definitely the type of place I could envision tucking myself away in, nestled within the heart of a seaside cottage as I diligently compose my novels. Some of the homes in Crail were so incredible, I grew nauseous with envy. Patios embracing the open ocean, immaculate gardens upon the hillside, and rough hewn stone for a bit of history- I cannot even contain my joy. Hopefully I may make a return journey in the near future, as I am counting down the days for my mother’s arrival.

Originally written 21 April 2013

Ceilidh in the Castle

Published on January 4, 2016December 29, 2020 by MaggieLeave a comment

At times, when I am slogging through the mire that is my coursework, I tend to forget that I am studying abroad. Accented words and foreign tongues simply blend into the background, while the wee quirks of the United Kingdom are simply every day occurrences. Occasionally, I am saddened by this fact: I feel as though I put too much effort into my coursework, electing to stay within my dorm and labor day after day, when I should be out in the world, making the most of this experience abroad. However, this sadness was somewhat sated by the events of last Sunday.

Last week, St Andrews hosted the On the Rocks Festival. Each day was dedicated to various events of artistic expression, whether it be poetry readings, play productions, or art galleries. I actually went and saw a student production of Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, followed by a comedy show titled “Colin Mirth” (that may have been the only reason I went. I am a sucker for puns.) A few friends of mine are members of the group that put on the show, and the final act of dancing to Kate Bush’s Wuthering Heights was a treat.

To conclude the On the Rocks Festival, though, was my favorite event: the Castle Ceilidh. Held in the castle ruins upon the seaside, a ceilidh is a traditional Scottish folk dancing event.

Kilts, fiddle music, castle ruins by the sea, and a gorgeous Sunday evening all made the event a remarkable experience. Grace is not a virtue I possess, so early on I gave up attempting to perfect the intricate dance steps and simply went with whatever my bumbling self thought resembled the steps. Though I probably looked like a fool, I cared not, for many others were ceilidh novices as well. I simply enjoyed participating, and I recall a great deal of giggling on my part.

Below is a video of what one of the dances looks like, taken at the exact event I attended! Unfortunately you cannot see me look like a bumbling fool.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xYkuvyb9uvI

I think my favorites were The Witch’s Dance and Strip the Willow. The first involved, as the kilted emcee described, “bewitching” the men by turning circles about them. I think he also said something about eating their souls at the conclusion of the dance. As anyone who knows me well enough can attest, this influence of magic and folklore was right up my alley, and the mood was only heightened by the gorgeous castle ruins. The second, Strip the Willow, was one of the most intense things I have ever done. It is so difficult to put to words: all one does is spin down a very, very long line of people. Yet “spin” is a gentle term: you are more likely to be hurled down the line by all the participants.

As I look back on such a jovial evening, it really makes me appreciate the fact that I am able to study abroad. There are times when wee rivulets of homesickness trickle into my hearts, especially if I see photos of my friends all gathering together to enjoy the little quirks of my hometown, such as apple orchards in the fall or driving in the country on the first warm day. These moods sometimes make me question if I made the right decision to buck the “traditional college experience” and leave the country for the unknown. Yet when I partake in events, such as the Castle Ceilidh, I remember why I came abroad. These experiences are ones I would never have even dreamed of if I stayed at home for university. Prior to arriving in St Andrews, I never knew what a ceilidh was, much less how to pronounce it (hint: kay-lee), or some of the other little cultural differences Scotland has to offer.

I am so thankful that I get to spend four years in such a special place. Though the year is 2013, the magic of ancient times has not yet passed, for it has retreated to Scotland, tucked within castle ruins or drifting upon the notes of a fiddle. As the semester is nearing its close, I will miss my second Scottish home as I return to America for the summer vacation.

Originally written 20 April 2013

To The Lakes

Published on January 4, 2016December 29, 2020 by MaggieLeave a comment

My mother used to read to me The Complete Tales of Beatrix Potter when I was younger, which instilled a deep love of the countryside and quaint ways of life. Beatrix Potter still remains one of my idols, and I hope to emulate her in some way as I age. Thus, a deep-seated desire to visit the place she cherished most, The Lake District, was born.

Thanks to the immense generosity of my friend Kate, I have the opportunity to stay in The Lakes for an entire week. I depart tomorrow morning for this land I so far only dreamed of visiting. I cannot even begin to comprehend that I am fulfilling a dream I have held for about fifteen years. My excitement overwhelms me, and I am looking forward to finally being immersed in a land I had only read about. I feel as though I may lose my heart to this magical and beautiful place.

Thistlewood

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I spent most of my time at Thistlewood, the Allan’s enchanting home in Cumbria. Words cannot express how peaceful Thistlewood is. I could not believe that I was spending my days in a place right out of my beloved period novels. The surrounding countryside, the cozy interior, and the gardens made my heart sing. I hope one day I may return.

Grasmere

On my first full day in the Lakes, I was packed up and taken to Grasmere. Here, I was fortunate enough to sample the famed Grasmere gingerbread. I have never tasted true English gingerbread, and while it was not what I was expecting, the taste was pleasant enough for a cup of tea and a cozy moment spent relaxing. Adjacent to the gingerbread store was the Daffodil Garden where William Wordsworth (1770-1850), English poet, is buried.

After this wee detour we ventured up to Rydal Mount, one of Wordsworth’s homes in the Lakes. The architecture of the house captured my imagination. The surrounding gardens were incredible; I just tried to imagine what it must have been like for Wordsworth’s daughter to grow up in such a fairytale place.

Later, the Allens and I took a walk around Grasmere Lake. I was awestruck at the peaceful, picturesque setting of the lake.

Hawkshead

There are places on this earth that one may yearn to visit with every fiber of their being. They pine for its hidden secrets, its adventures, and the vibrancy of its culture. However, they are sometimes let down. Then what do they have except gaunt and ravished dreams?

However, visiting Hill Top Farm, home of my Beatrix Potter, was everything I hoped and dreamed of, if not better. Leading up to our journey, I almost could not comprehend I would be walking the very paths she did, gazing upon the land she loved so dearly. Ever since I was a little girl, I have wanted a life like Miss Potter’s, and yearned so ardently to gaze upon her prized cottage. I still cannot believe I visited such an idyllic and charming place.

After touring Hill Top, which is the most quaint cottage in all of England, Kate and I wandered about Hawkshead, the nearest village. After one of my favorite films, Stardust, I have deemed this village Wall, and hoped at every corner to meet my very own Tristan Thorne. Tea rooms were nuzzled deep within every cobbled alley, and charming gates marked entrances to many a cottage.

Later, we visited the Hawkshead Solicitor’s Office, where William Heelis, Beatrix Potter’s beloved husband worked. The office is since converted to a museum. 2013 actually marks the centennial of their marriage, as well as the centennial publication of The Tale of Pigling Bland. Many believe this story, of a little pig named Pigling Bland who falls in love with a beautiful black pig named Pigwig, Beatrix based off of William and herself. Above Kate and I are pictured posing as William and Beatrix, since replicas of their hats were available for dress up. That smile was on my face since Monday and did not leave until the following Sunday.

I ended my perfect day with some nice tea and my very first English crumpet back at Thistlewood. I finally know what a crumpet is, and I topped it with the most divine English honey. Perfect day indeed.

Blencathra

My final great adventure was a true mountain expedition in Blencathra. While many an Englishman may insist that these are mere hills in the Lakes, I am convinced they are mountains. With a smile carved onto my face and an intrepid heart I eagerly bounded up the snow encrusted “hill.”

The view from the summit is something I will never forget. I truly felt as if I was an adventurer from my favorite tales, and I could not help but be completely at peace. The chill mountain air put a fresh vigor in my step, and I truly believed I could conquer anything life threw at me in that moment. Nothing can ever compare to a mountain view. Nature is so very humbling.

My final thought on this trip was my introduction to Fell Cottage, nestled warmly at the base of Blencathra. Though simple and humble, I think my heart has been taken. I have made it my personal mission to keep tabs on such a sweet abode, and perhaps one day, I could become its proud owner. Though it may be but a dream, this trip proved that dreams do come true if you remain true to them.

Originally written 24 March 2013

To My Parents

Published on January 4, 2016December 29, 2020 by MaggieLeave a comment

Unexpected visits often become the most welcome. In exactly one month, my father will be heading up to St Andrews for a short vacation before heading to London on business. At the start of the term, I never even dreamed that this would occur, and now that he is so close to calling, I am so happy.

My excitement for his impending stay spurred some late night reflections. Uncharacteristic of my age, I actually enjoy spending time with my parents. Sometimes I prefer their company to my friends, whether it be watching a period film with my mother or going for a drive in the country with my father. Though I adore my friends, these are the memories that truly resonate with me, and the ones I keep closest to my heart.

Coming to university has greatly increased my appreciation for my parents and all they do for me. Yet going beyond their support of my passions, their financial assistance, and willingness to let me roam wild, I think I am most thankful for the fact that they accept me for me. While I try my hardest to be wholeheartedly Maggie while meeting new people, my social anxieties at times take over, and either crippling shyness or off-putting eccentricity bubbles to the surface. While I have grown a lot as a person since my teenage years, I am nowhere near figuring out exactly who, or what, I am. Adding this to the task of meeting new people in a foreign country, and I begin to feel overwhelmed.

Perhaps this is the reason why I cherish spending time with my parents. Pretenses melt away and whomever I feel like being for the day is not only accepted, but loved. While I try my best to be outgoing and friendly, I am an introverted person: I like to be quiet and to think. A lot of my friends are not used to this side of me, and assume something is wrong if I am not the chipper and smiling Maggie they befriended. Yet around my parents, they simply exist in the contemplative silence with me, which I find refreshing.

My parents also love me for my unusual side, which I am so incredibly thankful for. After almost two decades of people consistently bullying me and being cruel to me for my fanciful nature, it is nice to be reminded that my quirks are a crucial part of who I am, and to never suppress them. My mother and father indulge my belief in magic, listen to my outlandish stories, and encourage me to find joy in the simplest of things. While one may think that these nudges of approval are not monumental, they mean so much to me, since I sometimes question if I am in fact wrong for being my odd little self.

So I eagerly await my fellow Hobbit’s arrival into the Shire, for the adventures we will embark on will be splendid. It will be refreshing to dismantle a few of my barriers and allow myself to be truly uninhibited, simply with my father’s encouraging presence. I do not doubt that I will look back on his wee visit, which we are planning with culinary conquests, pub-going, and frolicking in the magnificent scenery, with the warmest regard.

Originally written 19 March 2013

Simplicity

Published on January 4, 2016December 29, 2020 by MaggieLeave a comment

“I brake for birds. I rock a lot of polka dots. I have touched glitter in the last 24 hours. I spend my entire day talking to children … but that doesn’t mean I’m not smart and tough and strong.”

Jess Day, New Girl

Recently, this quote has inspired me as I face a challenge of entering the adult world. Often I find myself at a loss when adults, and even some of my peers, do not respect me because I choose to indulge my imagination. I find this quite saddening.

Particularly in today’s society, those with immense imaginations and who remain true to themselves should command the most respect. In an age of efficiency, fact, and structure, we tend to lose sight of what makes us human: the capacity of contemplating and giving meaning to the beauties of life. Any who are willing to believe in fantasy, romance, and idealism despite this ever-chilling world view should be applauded, for they are able to see what many no longer can, and that is a rare gift.

So often in my life I have encountered opposition to my fanciful nature, which is altogether disheartening because it is really the only thing I fancy about who I am. However, it has grown into more of a plight as I age. Many tend to write me off as a “dumb blonde” or a simpleton for the sole reason that I find wonderment in the everyday. Yet is not such idealism what inspired some of the greatest art, music, and poetry, an exposé on the everyday in order to enhance human existence?

Indeed, I will vehemently defend the existence of dragons. All of my clothes are floral or polka dot dresses. Flying a kite sounds like time well spent. It is my goal to stop and pet every puppy I see on the street. However, I also work very hard to achieve my goals. I am capable of an insightful discussion on literary works. My independence is something I pride myself on. One must never forget that there are two sides to every coin. I simply choose to laugh easily and be awed by life’s simple pleasures because it makes me happy. Happiness is a virtue, yet somehow it has been debased and warped by the cynicism of today, which casts an immense rain cloud on the human parade.

So here is my advice to you: applaud the romantics, the dreamers, and the idealists. Stop to have a conversation with them and listen to what they have to say. You may find yourself with a new perspective on life that you were previously missing in your haste. Personally, the individual who is content to watch the clouds and make up fanciful stories about what they see seems a very worthwhile companion. Go, surprise yourself, and live a bit simply.

Originally written 8 March 2013

Sharing the Adventure in Edinburgh

Published on January 4, 2016December 29, 2020 by MaggieLeave a comment

Today, my friend and I went on a jaunt around Edinburgh. Though I have journeyed here several times now, I actually discovered some new and exciting destinations. What made the experience more enriching, though, was the opportunity to see it through the eyes of a longtime friend from home, as if I were seeing the entire city itself anew.

St. Margaret’s Chapel within the castle was open after a year of refurbishment, and it was so interesting to set foot in a building so ancient. Built in the 12th Century, the chapel is the oldest building within Edinburgh Castle. It made me wish I was from the medieval times.

My next new adventures was the Edinburgh Writer’s Museum, with dedications to Robert Louis Stevenson, Sir Walter Scott, and Robert Burns. As I am studying Robert Burns in English next week, I found it quite helpful to gain a bit of insight into his life and works.

Finally, my favorite stop was in Bacchus Antiques, located in a wee ramshackle building on Victoria Street. Though it looks decrepit and ancient on the outside, within is a pristine haven of antiquities. The master of the shop is most likely a wizard who opened his little pride and joy in 1142 AD, and he gave us an insightful little tour into his collection. I acquired a nice antique compass to wear around my neck. I have decided I want to visit him more often.

Originally written 27 February 2013

Cairngorms National park

Published on January 4, 2016December 29, 2020 by MaggieLeave a comment

This weekend, whilst one of my school friends is visiting, we decided to take a trip northwards to Cairngorms National Park. To say it was beautiful is a severe understatement. A dream to set foot in the Scottish Highlands was realized, and my heart soars.

We spent Saturday hiking all around Braemar, the village we stayed in. There were excellent walking paths all around the hills and valleys. While we did not trek all of them, the ones we were fortunate enough to find offered stunning views of the surrounding woodlands and hills. I think my favorite part, though, was when we reached a particular valley at the end of our path. The world was completely still as we kept company with some old, wispy trees. Never before have I heard silence such as this, but it was the most harmonious and peaceful I have ever felt.

On Sunday, we went for an extended pony trek in the village of Aboyne. As an avid horsewoman, traversing the Scottish wilderness on horseback allowed me to realize a long-held dream. I miss my horses so much, so the chance to get back in the saddle is beyond words.

Originally written 24 February 2013

A Winter Wander Part III: Edinburgh

Published on January 4, 2016December 29, 2020 by MaggieLeave a comment

My journey concluded with a stop to the Christmas Market in Edinburgh. Though I have visited the city before, it was nice to return and see if I remember all of my favorite places. The market also added a festive atmosphere that made me all the more excited to return home.

My top priority was the oft-discussed food of the Christmas market. I kicked off my treats with a cinnamon-sugar crepe, which tasted festive in and of itself. It reminded me of the cinnamon-sugar toast my mother used to make me as a child, which offered me comfort in my anticipation to return home. My second ambition was to try mead. It was even served in a finely crafted, artisanal mug to keep. Feeling rather Viking-like with mead and handmade mugs pleased me.

I also had the chance to visit the Scottish National Gallery, an art museum in the heart of the city. My family and I ran out of time during our visit, thus, we could not see it. This time, though, I was determined to tour its halls and experience my first true glimpse into fine art. The marble statues were a particular favorite, as they looked as if they would come alive right before my eyes. No photos were allowed in the gallery, yet I stealthily swiped this shot of the stairwell, in which dozens of marble busts adorned the walls. Imposing, yet intriguing.

Originally written 19 December 2012

A Winter Wander Part II: Durham

Published on January 4, 2016December 29, 2020 by MaggieLeave a comment

Instead of heading to Alnwick Castle, the tour was shifted to Durham, a beautiful city just outside Newcastle. I recall seeing it from the train on my journey to St Andrews and commenting on how lovely it looked, so I was thrilled to get the chance to explore it.

Anyone that knows me well can understand how excited I became at sighting this pub. I attempted to go in, however, it is a very local establishment filled with swarthy old men, so I decided to leave. However, it was a very intriguing little pub with amazing history. The building itself was constructed in 1109 A.D.

Next we visited the Durham Cathedral, which was one of the most gorgeous buildings I had ever seen. I have never really visited a proper cathedral before, so I essentially wandered about with my mouth agape. Above is a finely crafted door knocker on the entrance to the cathedral.

Here is a nice vista of Durham seen from the cathedral tower. I climbed 325 steps up a narrow, winding enclosure to get to the top. It was fascinating to think of how many feet traversed those steps, and it put into perspective just how antiquated these places in the United Kingdom are. The view from the tower was breathtaking, and well worth the effort. The view itself was enough of a Christmas gift for me.

Perhaps my favorite part of the cathedral, though, was the cloisters. Everything was so peaceful in this courtyard, it was such a nice experience to see this place of sanctuary. Also, I was told that a few scenes from the Harry Potter movies were filmed in these cloisters. As a film enthusiast, I always appreciate visiting locations used for filming.

The day concluded with chicken pâté, prosciutto-wrapped cod, and a tipple of white wine at The Cellar Door, a lovely and quaint restaurant on the way to the cathedral. The atmosphere was wonderful: soft lighting, fresh flowers on the table, good food, and a home-like feel. If anyone ever travels to Durham, this is the restaurant I highly recommend.

Originally written 19 December 2012