Ah, spring in Scotland. The days are longer, flowers are blooming, classes are almost over....it's a beautiful thing, or so they tell me. Here in the library, it's a balmy 85 degrees, and the gentle breeze wafting past my carrel smells distinctly like sweaty freshmen, stale books, and carpet that hasn't been cleaned since the 1960's. The printer is beeping its frustration at yet another paper jam, and a thud to my right tells me that yet another head has hit the desk. Oh yes, spring is a wonderful time to be a student...
Let's see, what latest adventures can I update you on. Hmm. Well, about an hour ago, I got up from my table, walked over the the reference section, had the fantastic experience of looking up a word in the New Testament Greek lexicon that weighs as much as I do, and walked back to my table. It was really exciting. Yesterday was even better, though, because I was studying on the second floor because of the carrels' proximity to the BF section, and this one time I made it ALL THE WAY to the BR section. It was like a whole new world. I wish you could have been there. It was probably the best trip of the whole semester.
Ok, ok, enough sarcasm. I was bored. There is one thing worth writing about that's happened recently, and that is the May Dip, which occurred today at approximately 5:20am. Let me go back to the beginning of the story where it all started, at the beginning of the semester...
Better yet, let's start in the sixteenth century. A lovely fellow named Patrick Hamilton was condemned for heresy and sentenced to be burned at the stake on a spot generally believed to have been right outside St. Salvator's Chapel in St. Andrews. As they were fanning the flames, the unfortunate martyr uttered (precisely) these words: "I, Patrick Hamilton, do hereby curse any fully matriculated student of the University of St Andrews who steps on the spot where at some point in the future my initials will be arbitrarily placed in the cobblestones, so that said fully matriculated student will fail all of his classes that term." I'm impressed he managed to get out the word "matriculated" with his feet on fired, but hey, that's martyrdom for you. What a charmer, to leave a legacy like that for us.
Anyway, back to the first Friday of February this year: matriculation day. Literally ten minutes after I became a "fully matriculated student," guess where I stepped? Yep. On the PH lurking in the cobblestones on North Street. And thus the curse began. You'd think being born on Friday the 13th would basically negate any curse I ever encountered, but just in case, I decided to take part in the St. Andrews ritual that promises to undo the curse: the May Dip.
And so, at 5:20 this morning, I found myself running into the North Sea at dawn with hundreds of other students begging PH's forgiveness in one of St. Andrews' most absurd and pneumonia-inducing traditions. It was without question the coldest experience of my life, and this is coming from someone who's survived two Hamilton winters and years of figure skating. There was a lot of screaming and cursing (mostly from Jen!) involved, but when I emerged, I was no longer cursed and have no excuse to fail all my classes.
Anyway, after I'd thawed out, showered, and slept for a few more hours, I was up and back to work, enjoying the beautiful view of the reference section. St. Andrews, I will miss you so.
Back to the US of A in 3 weeks, 6 days!
~L
PS: Yes, I know I haven't finished updates about spring break or put any Italy photos up. But really, is it fair to make me look at pictures of the sunny south that make me wish even more that I was there instead of here? Maybe tomorrow...
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