On January 6th, I embarked on my first solo international adventure: my semester abroad in Edinburgh, Scotland.
I arrived at the airport in Halifax, my hometown, with one large suitcase, a brightly coloured duffle bag, and my backpack. I was excited, but also terrified. I had never travelled internationally on my own, let alone settled for five months in a foreign country. Would I be able to navigate from the Edinburgh Airport to my residence with all my luggage? What if I arrived to discover all of my “flatmates” were men? Would I make friends? Or would I find myself wandering the city alone, with only an umbrella for company?
At 11:30 a.m., I boarded my first flight—Halifax to Newark—with a battered copy of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire stowed safely in my backpack, for comfort. It was a short, uneventful journey. I arrived in Newark by early afternoon with nearly 8 hours to spare before my flight to Edinburgh. After eating at a salad bar for lunch (and later dinner), I found a chair and opened my book.
Hours passed. Eventually, I made my way to my gate and noticed a few lone girls who looked around my age. Assuming them to be full-time students at the University of Edinburgh, I returned to my book. But then I overheard two American-sounding girls chatting nearby and I asked if they were on exchange. Yes, they said, they were! Soon, several more exchange students trickled in and a larger group formed. One girl sat beside me and we clicked immediately. Suddenly, my once-solo travel was transformed into a communal journey.
When we landed in Edinburgh, I shared a taxi with my new friend and another friend of hers from her home university. As soon as we stepped outside, I felt like I was back in Halifax: rain-washed roads; sheets of sleet; heavy, dark clouds. And then our cab driver rolled down his window and, in a thick accent, unleashed a stream of well-meaning (I think?) profanity at another cab driver—and I knew I was in Scotland.
My first week in Edinburgh was a whirlwind of social activity. On my first day, I wandered the city with a few other exchange students, one of whom I knew vaguely from Halifax. We stumbled across Tom Riddle’s gravestone in Greyfriars Kirkyard, a sprawling cemetery in Edinburgh’s Old Town, and then made our way to the real-life Diagon Alley, a cobbled strip known as Victoria Street, lined with brightly coloured shops including a three-story Harry Potter store. Afterwards, we enjoyed scones at the Elephant House, where J.K. Rowling wrote portions of the Harry Potter books. Really, it wasn’t hard to find the Harry Potter spots—the city is infused with a magical aura!
On my second day, I attended a campus tour and met two girls—both named Paige—with whom I became fast friends. After lunch, we meandered down rain-streaked streets, passing any number of cashmere and tweed shops. As the sun began to set and the city lights illuminated the old, castle-like buildings, we realized, rather belatedly, that we needed groceries and crockery for dinner. And just like that, the mundane collided with the city’s wonder.
Later that week, my new friends and I attended a traditional Scottish dance, a ceilidh, at a pub downtown. It was mostly exchange students, but at one point my airport friend and I were approached by a pair of Scottish guys dressed in kilts who were looking to dance with some “lassies.” I mean, how could we resist?
On another night, we went line dancing at an Irish pub. An LED countdown to St. Patrick’s Day was posted on the wall and stacks of neon pink cowboy hats emblazoned with the phrase “Honky Tonk” decorated the tables; one of my friends gladly helped herself to a hat. We learnt around six different dances and I failed miserably at all of them. My feet would not cooperate… But when we returned the next week, I was able to do three of the dances! A glorious feeling, really.
In Edinburgh, I’ve discovered a sense of adventure that I didn’t know I had. As much as I enjoy my life in Toronto, there is a certain monotony to it. I dutifully do my assigned readings (not all, but enough) and write my essays; occasionally I catch an author talk downtown, but otherwise I’m in bed by 9. It’s my preferred way of life—or so I thought. Here in Edinburgh, I’ve decided to do things differently. I say “yes” to virtually everything that comes my way. I no longer worry about my “bedtime”; I avoid the library on weekends; I’ll even order a drink at the pub, sometimes. In short, I’m intent on having fun—a key ingredient to university life that I feel like I’ve sacrificed for the sake of school work. When I return to Toronto, I hope I’ll hold onto this sense of adventure and work to make my life worth living outside the confines of the university.