Planes, Trains, & Introverts

PLANES, TRAINS, I N T R OV E RTS How to Successfully Navigate Abroad When You Just Want to Stay at Home

MADDY SPALL

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“IF

WE WAIT UNTIL WE’RE

READY,

WE’LL BE WAITING FOR

THE REST OF OUR

LIVES.” -Lemony Snicket-

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READ

THIS

H

ave you ever had an experience that kind of changed how you think and feel about virtually everything? No, not the kind of experience where you eat a really bad meal and it ruins your day. I’m talking about the “holy cats I’m a new person” kind of experience. You know what I’m talking about: the “ah-ha” or “eureka!” moment where you have to sit down for a second and maybe need some ice cream to calm you down.

It wasn’t so much an “ah-ha” or “eureka!” moment as much as it was an “ah-ha” or “eureka!” month. This ultra-dramatic month occurred the summer between my sophomore and junior year of college (you know, about the time that you should probably have an internship or some job relating to the rest of your life). I, however, took the opportunity to study abroad. Before you start a ruckus over my studying abroad over the summer, take twelve seconds to consider the costs differences and then get back to me.

When you study abroad during the summer, your university choices are slashed significantly. And when you speak one language like myself, your choices are really slashed (throw in the money factor and you’re left with about three solid universities). This excessive amount of slashing led to my application to the University of Stirling in Scotland.

Let it be known that I knew virtually nothing about the University when I applied other than the fact that I most likely wouldn’t have to take anything math or science-related (a positive to having a hyperconcerned mother is that she solidified the essential factors like safety, cleanliness, and, oh yeah, safety, before I was allowed to even print off the application). Thankfully, my lack of dreams/aspirations/motivation/ maturity, you name it, wasn’t such a bad thing because mom found a real winner (I’m alright with bashing myself for the sake of this book.

Sacrifices must be made in the name of literature). Stirling held buckets full of charm in its campus and in its small-town community. Everything was green and everyone drank alcohol like it was coffee: a utopia. But do recall that I still knew none of this until I actually arrived on campus.

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Before my time in Stirling, however, my dad and I embarked on our own adventures. I won’t reveal too much about that just yet because I need you to keep reading. Mom had planned the trip perfectly from home since her job kept her from joining us (ah to be employed) so we began our journey in Edinburgh: land of whiskey, J.K. Rowling, and overexuberant bagpipers. When we began I was a different person. Not a bad or evil person or a different person in the sense that I changed my name or went under the knife, but personality-wise.

My home university, Stephens College, preaches the importance of personality types. To them, your personality type is your key to understanding life: jobs, relationships, friendships, emotions, parenting, etc. At first, I considered it rubbish; kind of similar to horoscopes and online quizzes that tell you which celebrity you should get your hair done with. But then I took the Myers Briggs personality test and was completely owned (in the very modern, slang sense of the word). The test told me everything about myself. What I already knew, what I didn’t know, why I did things and why I didn’t. It was like looking into a mirror for the first time. The results told me I was an introvert, which initially surprised me due to my loud, social, and frankly obnoxious tendencies.

But then of course I was “owned” again when it reminded me that my role as an only child caused me to value alone time and frequent peaceful moments.

When I began my journey into the unknown I was an ISFP: introvert, sensing, feeling, perceiving. To translate, I was an introvert, someone who finds it necessary to take the time to recharge away from other people. Sensing refers to those who consider what is

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happening around them at that very moment and what they are feeling and thinking in that moment. Feeling refers to people who base decisions off of their personal values and how other people are feeling. And finally, those who are perceiving tend to be unorganized and tend to keep their options open. ISFPs are typically creative and curious but also very easily stressed and have issues with self-esteem and planning. While I still hold some of these traits, I felt myself losing my ISFP qualities during my ultra-dramatic summer. By the summer’s completion, I had dropped those qualities almost entirely.

I initially wanted to write this book to keep a sort of public diary of what’s going on with me across the sea. It began as a travel blog and progressed to a full-blown documentation of my change in personality type. I had hoped to write everyday, but I messed that up rather frequently throughout so I made the vague promise to “write when I can.” I hope that’s romantic enough for you. The format will stay true to its blog origins, complete with dates and present tense, but be fully aware that I am no longer abroad. I am in a computer lab.

My hope is that this companion of sorts will help you relax a bit and experience as much as you can. Don’t let some quiz define your life: get out there and break some boundaries.

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Myers Briggs Myers Briggs is a personality test that uses a wide range of questions to determine your “letters.” These letters include I or E (introvert or extrovert), S or N (sensing or intuition), T or F (thinking or feeling), and J or P (judging or perceiving). The questions on this test vary depending on what resource you are using, but will usually ask what you would do in certain situations or how you would react. In order to take the test, grab your phone or computer and simply type in “Myers Briggs” and you will find an array of different tests.

My favorite, however, is 16 Personalities. It is free, easy to use, and gives you extensive literature on your results. Make sure you read this literature and agree with it. It’s always possible that you might say that it doesn’t sound anything like you. That happens. But more often than not, you’ll be reading the results with your mouth wide open as you slowly realize that the test knows more about you then you do.

Keep in mind that your results can change. I wouldn’t suggest taking the test incredibly often, maybe every couple of months, but when you do retake it, note the changes and reflect on them for a little bit. I’m not saying you need to meditate or anything, but just think back to what may have caused the change.

Okay, did you take the test? Did you read the literature? Do you agree with it? Write down your letters here and pull out a few adjectives that the results used to describe you. On the right hand page, write down whether you agree with it or not. What parts do you not agree with? Is your mouth gaping open?

Results: Adjectives:

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MYERS BRIGGS PERSONALITY TYPES

ISTJ

The Inspector

ISTP

The Craftsman

ESTP

The Dynamo

ESTJ

The Supervisor

ISFJ

The Protector

ISFP

The Composer

ESFP

The Performer

ESFJ

The Provider

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INFJ

The Counselor

INFP

The Healer

ENFP

The Champion

ENFJ

The Teacher

INTJ

The Mastermind

INTP

The Architect

ENTP

The Visionary

ENTJ

The Commander

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Things You’re Most Excited About:

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Biggest Fears About Traveling:

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The One Thing You Probably Shouldn’t Have Packed:

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5 goals

you have for yourself

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3.

4.

5.

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Write a Letter to Yourself...

On a separate piece of paper, write a letter to yourself for you to read at the end of your trip. In the letter, remind yourself of how you’re feeling about this adventure and the qualms you have. Maybe write your goals from the opposite page in your letter. Write down the things that you are most worried about and least worried about. Write down whatever is in your head when you’re writing it. Tell a few jokes if you want to. Your future self might get a kick out of it. Maybe not.

When you’re done writing (no length limit, I’m not your high school composition teacher), put your letter in the first envelope in the back of this book for safe keeping. Try not to look at it again until the trip home. My hope is that you will read your letter and feel accomplished about the strides you made on your trip. This letter is symbol of change for you. Try to make it a good one!

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EDINBURGH & THE FAM

ur first day in Edinburgh was eventful but not too eventful. We had to settle in and acclimate to our surroundings (after a short nap, of course: consider that we had been traveling for a full day by this time). Most of the day we ogled at the locals with their absolutely mesmerizing accents and mannerisms. Sometimes I attempt to understand them and the rest of the time I just stare. No wonder most people don’t like tourists.

The most eventful moment of the day was my first alcoholic beverage at Whiski, and no I did not have whiskey. Give me some time, will you? I had Kopparberg pear cider which is basically juice but hey you’ve got to start somewhere. After that, dad was pretty pumped about me “liking” alcohol so every place we’ve been to since he’s wanted me to taste another type. The consensus is that I prefer ciders and dark ales (who knew) from what I’ve tried so far but I rarely finish any of them. From mom’s perspective that’s probably a good thing.

The next day we toured Edinburgh castle. At first I was worried that it would be too crowded for us to see anything good but I was pleasantly surprised. We followed a witty tour guide who consistently joked that her water was in fact gin (jury is still out on that one) and told us many facts that we never would have learned on our own. We learned that the Queen would actually be arriving in Edinburgh that day at 5pm. Of course, the Queen doesn’t stay in the castle, which hasn’t been lived in for hundreds and hundreds of years. She does, however, stay in the palace at the end of the Royal Mile. To announce her arrival, the guards up at the castle fire twentyone rounds of blanks. Dad and I heard none of these from our hotel room later that day which sat in the middle of the Mile so I highly doubt old Lizzie heard them either. Before she arrived and clogged up the Mile we decided to take a peak at the palace and the Scottish Parliament. Both were nothing to sneeze at of course. We couldn’t get super close to the palace but I’m sure it had more bathrooms in it than I have teeth. Parliament is oddly modern in design but I suppose the Scottish just like to keep it interesting. We also tried haggis for the first time, at the urging of my adorable great uncle, and actually enjoyed it quite a lot. Haggis is sheep’s heart, lungs, and liver wrapped in its stomach. Appetizing, I know, but it was fried and if you don’t think about it too much what difference does it really make?

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MOUS LONDON HEAT WAVE

OH NO.

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On Wednesday we said goodbye to Edinburgh and began a train ride to London through the countryside. At one point I could swear I saw a glacier off the coast but before I could signal the snoozing dad it was gone.

When we arrived in London it was conveniently the hottest day London has had on record. This was a charming cherry on top of the fact that we had no clue where we were going and everyone was quite literally hot and bothered. After we finally got to our hotel or as I shall refer to it, our HELLtel, we discovered that it had no air conditioning. We should have seen the welcome committee of flies in the lobby as our first warning but we soldiered on. The next sign should have been that they had our reservation wrong but of course we soldiered on. The last sign was from a young lady in the lobby that we overheard saying was stuck in the elevator for fourteen minutes (with no air remember) to whom they would only reimburse 50% off her next stay.

Immediately we called in the expert (mother dearest) who rescued us from the Hell-tel and sent us instead to what could easily be called Heaven On Earth. We were delivered to said hotel in a Mercedes Benz taxi (who knew they even existed) which was mostly definitely a sure sign we were about to embark on the ritziest vacation in Spall history, all thanks to good ole mum.

After we sufficiently soaked in the luxury, we found an area a block or so away that seemed to be the hot spot for the younger London locals. There we grabbed our first batch of English fish and chips and both dad and I were very happy campers.

That being said, the longer I’m in London, the more I miss Edinburgh and its relaxed simplicity. I love London, of course, but sometimes putting your life on the line every time you want to get near a road can be quite exhausting (this danger comes from the insanity of the buses, taxis, and bikers who don’t really “mind the gap” and instead just squeeze in anywhere they can as fast as they can). Edinburgh, however, is mostly just the simple mile-long strip of shops and restaurants stretching between the castle and the palace, appropriately named the Royal Mile. There are still throngs of tourists but it is much less of a bother due to the relaxed nature of the city.

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M A K E S O M E N OT E S . . .

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D R AW A L I T T L E . . .

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THE TOURS &

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THE FRENCH REVOLUTION

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f you’ve ever been to London, you know that taking a tour is actually genius. The guides are generally hired for their authentic British wit and unending knowledge, which helps distract from the heinous maneuvering of the bus driver and other vehicles, you basically have the equivalent of a Disney FastPass at all of the landmarks, and you aren’t left to wander the foreign streets all by your self. The cons might include looking like a dorky tourist, but this is easily forgotten amidst the many benefits. Just don’t wear a fanny pack and PLEASE don’t call it a fanny pack. Many an American has been scorned for this misdemeanor.

Dad and I took a tour of London’s main attractions on Thursday, which included sites like St. Paul’s Cathedral, the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace, Tower of London, and the London Eye. We saw everything else from the bus windows, which was perfectly fine considering it meant some relief from the crowds. Going into it, I knew very little about...well everything.

I was practically unaware of St. Paul’s Cathedral’s existence. I very quickly learned that it had just as much significance as Westminster Abbey, it just wasn’t the Royals’ chosen hangout. The tallest dome of the church can be seen throughout London and served as a symbol of hope to Londoners for many years, especially during World War II when England was heavily bombed.

As many people warned, the changing of the guard was practically a waste because it all went down over about a five minute period. The exchange was overly-ceremonial for something the poor guys did every single day (there were no women because the guards are legitimate soldiers who are currently on reserve. In England, women are still not allowed to fight on the front lines and are not nearly as common as they are in America) although they played a little bit of music so it was like a mini parade. The crowds weren’t so much of a bother here really because our outspoken tour guide led us to a less populated area that actually allowed us to see the parade much better. That’s why he gets paid the big bucks (or pounds) I suppose.

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I fully admit that I believed the Tower of London to quite literally be just a tower with the Crown Jewels at the top. The only thing I really knew was from watching Sherlock when Moriarty breaks in and sits in one of the cases. I was therefore surprised to see that it’s actually another castle that was built by the Vikings to intimidate the English. It was also the location of the beheading of Anne Boleyn and many others. The Crown Jewels didn’t seem real to me. I guess I had never really seen gigantic diamonds and sapphires and rubies before but they almost looked fake. Everything was extremely gaudy. The crowns and scepters were nothing compared to the Royal Punch Bowl. My favorite was probably this sword (I’m assuming it was never used in battle) that had thousands of jewels covering its hilt and intricate designs up and down the blade. That’s my kind of weapon.

The London Eye was mostly terrifying and a little bit cool. The only thing you could really see from the top of the Ferris wheel was Parliament and Big Ben, which was cool but you see those guys a lot. Dad was visibly uncomfortable, taking pictures from his seat instead of walking to the windows for a better shot. I just tried not to think about how high up we were and all of the action movies I had seen where the Eye crumbled into the Thames. You’ll be pleased to know that we survived.

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The next day, we took another tour to visit the Warner Brothers Harry Potter Studio. We didn’t necessarily have a guide on this tour, it was mostly just a ride out to the studio (its actually outside of London so don’t be fooled) and more FastPass convenience. I am an avid Harry Potter fan who just finished reading the series for the seventh time before embarking on this European adventure. That is my excuse for the fact that I cried when they showed us the video that came on before we even went into the studio. The movies and the books are a big part of my life, okay? That and I’m turning into my mother. The studio was pure magic just as promised and I didn’t even care that the secrets were out I was still blinking back tears at how beautiful it all was. Of course they buttered you up and made sure you drank some Butterbeer before finally delivering the ultimate whammy, which was a huge replica of Hogwarts complete with emotional theme music playing in the background. Of course, this caused me to want to buy everything they had in the gift shop but I stayed strong and only bought a few things.

On the 4th of July, we saw Les Miserables at the Queen’s Theatre. Located near Piccadilly Circus, the Theatre was of course surrounded by tourists but at this point it was no surprise. The performance was beautiful as usual and I had a very difficult time not singing along (I settled with mouthing along). To this day, however, I still believe that the best performance I have ever seen of Les Mis or any musical was by a group of high schoolers at Nerinx Hall High School. Dad had never seen Les Mis live and actually enjoyed it quite a lot considering the amount of times we had to move to allow the girls next to us to “use the loo.”

The past few days have been action-packed but now we end the busier days in London and start to sleep-in and venture to the more casual attractions. I should really begin writing these entries a little earlier because dad is already asleep and the fireworks have just stopped. Yes I know, fireworks in London on Fourth of July? I guess they’re happy we’re gone then. A celebration of our independence and a celebration of their riddance of us. Everyone wins. But not really. Because we won.

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M A K E S O M E N OT E S . . .

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D R AW A L I T T L E . . .

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Callum the Intern

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Memorable People I’ve Met

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3W

CAMBRIDGE & TH

e attended an organ concert at Westminster Abbey on Sunday and visited Cambridge on Monday. The organ concert was brief but lovely.

Unfortunately, no photographs or videos were allowed so I have no proof but you’ll just have to trust me.

The organist was approximately my age and caused me to reevaluate my life for a few seconds but I soon recovered. The trip to Cambridge was quite nice as we finally had a break from the fast-paced London.

Dad was quite excited (not very visibly of course) about being in the setting for his British mystery novels and shows. I think his favorite site might have been the local police station but I couldn’t say for sure. We decided that the best way to see the campus was to take a punting tour. Punting is a form of water transportation and sort of looks like a humbler version of a gondola. Our guide was a young lad who would be starting university in the fall. He was probably the most English looking teenager I had seen yet (his attire included wire-framed classes, a white button down, and a vest) and was quite long winded. He even lost his pole at one point and, without missing a beat, continued to explain the upcoming bridge. As casual as he was, he proved to be entertaining in his own way and we enjoyed the tour. The architecture of the buildings was phenomenal and I felt like I was in a Jane Austen novel, just floating my way along the campuses.

After that, dad and I took things as slow as we pleased and, after the long train ride back to Edinburgh, we had our last meal together. He left first thing in the morning, leaving me to my own devices.

Both he and mom were a little bit freaked about my being alone in a foreign country on my own (no clue why) but today has been the most casual day ever. I found The Elephant House, where JK Rowling wrote the first few Harry Potter books. I will be honest with you, it was shabby and the food looked gross. Also, they didn’t have physical evidence that she was there: on the window was an illustration of her at one of the tables. It rained for a bit so I found a cafe and read my book with a hot cup of coffee. Once the rain let up, I listened to a street performer for a good amount of time and then proceeded to another cafe where I read again and had a cup of tea (I’m so British). In between, I stopped at a few gift shops but all of them really sell the same stuff (although one has really great postcards of men in kilts). Later in the afternoon I was nearly

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HE DANGERS OF FREEDOM

attacked by seagull “poo” but my cat-like instincts that I probably got from being a goalie (yeah right) saved me from a terrible fate. After all of these dangerous and reckless events, I have now retired to my hotel room to write this entry. Not sure what I’ll do about dinner...maybe I’ll just hit up the bar (just kidding, mom).

This is an entry of firsts and lasts. It’s the first entry I have made before 11pm, my first post without dad here, and my last post “on holiday.”

Tomorrow I will meet up with the other students traveling with ISA at the hostel. I’m not exactly sure what to expect as far as the other students go.

What I do know is that there isn’t much in Edinburgh I haven’t done yet and we will probably be seeing a lot of the same things together. I’ll of course let you know how it all transpires.

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M A K E S O M E N OT E S . . .

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D R AW A L I T T L E . . .

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4M

THE UNIVERSITY

y busy schedule and lack of motivation has led to a large gap in between entries. If this was a Tamagotchi it would have already been cremated. I apologize for my extreme neglect but hopefully you will just assume that the past eleven days have just been so busy I haven’t even had time to open this Mac. Which is mostly true but I have definitely tested Netflix a few times. Note: there are different viewing options here than in America so technically it can be considered exploring.

When we last talked, I was wandering the streets of Edinburgh on my own trying to find a place to eat dinner. In the end, I wasted way too much money on bangers and mash and that’s all you need to know.

The next morning I left my pals at the hotel and departed for the hostel (note the additional “s” and therefore the decline of quality). There I waited and waited and waited until finally a group, lead by an adorable bald man, walked in looking like they had all experienced a natural disaster. I figured that this must be the ISA group. Of course everything was quite awkward and, since I had been adjusted to the time change for over a week at that point, my cheery disposition seemed to slightly overwhelm the group. Nevertheless, we sat and listened to what the adorable bald man (who I soon learned was named Stuart) had to say about Scotland and the program. As our time together progressed, we eventually became at ease with each other and were pleasantly surprised to find that, although none of us were anything alike, we all worked well together for that very reason. Well, that and Stuart being our mutual Scottish mascot. By the time we got to the Uni (University of Stirling. Uni saves time.) most of us seemed to decide that splitting off from our ISA group might be rather terrifying. Obviously our bubble couldn’t stay fully in tact for too long and it didn’t. I’m happy to say that we all eventually met someone outside of ISA. (Pause for applause.)

We arrived Sunday and started classes Monday. I don’t have class on Mondays and could not tell you for the life of me what I did all day Monday. But Tuesday I know for a fact I went to class.

My first class was International Relations, a class that would definitely be taught by Mark Thompson (extreme dad and extreme Canadian) if I was at Stephens College. But I’m not. The only things I understood from that class were 1) the professor is not Mark Thompson 2) the Afghanistan video he showed meant nothing 3) I had a lot of homework already. The professor (Paul) is very nice and very understanding so I have no worries other than the fact that I will actually have to do some work. Surprise. A constant comfort I have regarding this class is the knowledge that our field trip is to Ireland. And Ireland seems cool. There’s leprechauns and stuff.

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Y & THE HOLY GRAIL

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Later on Tuesday I attended a football match (that’s soccer if you happened to forget where I was) in Stirling with one of the classes. By the luck of the Irish I managed to attend said match free of charge due to my cat-like reflexes that were mentioned in an earlier post. We sat second row and bought rally scarves so we could be like the cool kids and I thoroughly enjoyed it. It was no World Cup, but hey, you’ve gotta start somewhere.

My next class was on Wednesday and even though it was from 9am to noon I had a blast. It’s called Marketing and Branding Scotland and according to the Block One folks I will never actually figure out what that means. Regardless, I had forgotten how much I loved marketing and was engaged the whole three hours (alert the authorities). That evening, ISS (the summer school) had a pub quiz downtown and we got to meet more of the Block One kids. Pub quizzes are a very common form of socializing here and it’s actually not a quiz where you have to know different names of pubs. (It’s trivia by the way.)

On Thursday ISS took a trip to Edinburgh and my ISA group and I decided not to go due to the fact that we had just been there a few days previously. Instead, we ventured up to Doune, a small town not too far from Stirling that is home to the appropriately named Doune Castle. Doune Castle was famously used as a set for Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Outlander, and Game of Thrones. As a Holy Grail fan, seeing the exact spot from where Lancelot killed a slew of wedding guests and those French guys farted in our general direction was pretty phenomenal.

Lots of other stuff happened after and in between all of the above but I have to fit eleven days worth of events into an entry you’ll actually want to read (that is, if you’re actually still reading by this point. Nod your head if you’re still reading.) so what you get is what you get.

Skip forward to yesterday when we visited Glasgow with Stuart. My favorite part of the day was the Gallery of Modern Art where I would gladly have spent the entire day. Glasgow in its entirety seems like a place I would want to live in. It has a lot of pride and character as well as a lot of modern attributes and it’s quite close to other major cities in Scotland. I’m supposed to be meeting up with a woman in Glasgow about an internship there and I think that it would be a great experience. Well anyway. It’s about time I wrap this thing up and do some school work. If you made it all the way through this post I offer you my sincere congratulations. You deserve a medal for even clicking on this (mom-sorry but you don’t countlove you).

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M A K E S O M E N OT E S . . .

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D R AW A L I T T L E . . .

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Paintballing...quite painful

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Surprising Things I’ve Done

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BEACHES &

think we can officially call my long periods of not writing neglect. Leaving my writing for as long as I do is just as hard on me as it is on you because I have to think back to what I’ve been doing which proves more difficult than it should. Not for any particular reason other than that many things happen throughout the days and I can’t remember which event belongs to which day.

For that reason I will start with our trip to St. Andrews.

This one is easy to remember because the entire summer school went together and there were witnesses. St. Andrews is golf heaven for those who believe in such a thing. I myself am not a member of the golf religion but can appreciate all faiths. The Open had just occurred a few days previously. So previously, in fact, that they had barely made any additions to a pile of metal barriers that were obviously the first step in the take-down process.

When we first arrived I barely noticed the sea. Perhaps I just didn’t expect it to be there. Our first stop was a coffee shop which was genius considering the fact that every last one of us fell asleep on the early ride there. But after an embarrassingly long time of geeking out over well-designed magazine layouts I decided I was restless enough to go exploring on my own. I stumbled upon a portion of the University with a large courtyard and flowers that I quite obviously had to take pictures of. This courtyard led me to a street that ran parallel to the water’s edge.

I couldn’t hear it but I caught glimpses of it between old University buildings. These small glimpses were enough to convince me I had to find access to the beach. I eventually found a high point where I could see the coast and the hills in the distance and sat there for what must have been over a half an hour. I was in Scotland surrounded by these impressive rolling hills that provided a picturesque view at every turn but once I saw the open water I was rather surprised at how emotional it made me and how much I appreciated being alone with it. After awhile, this view proved to be insufficient and I ventured even closer and eventually found my way to the sand. The beach has never really been my favorite place in all honesty. This most likely because they are usually hotter than blazes at home. But the cold sand and the cold water and the cold breeze seemed to be exactly what I wanted and needed. I once again encountered seagull feces (lots and lots of it actually) but it hardly mattered to me at that point. I claimed a large boulder and sat for a significant amount of time

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BATTLES

and would’ve stayed longer had my phone not have reached below five percent. So I went back to find the others and an outlet.

A few days later, my ISA group and our fearless leader Stuart departed for a day trip to Loch Lomond, a national park of sorts but mostly a small town with gorgeous scenery and, obviously, a loch. I expected that hiking would be involved but thankfully I was spared by a very relaxing boat that took us around the loch. The boat was a bit too relaxing and the scenery was quite consistent so I found myself drifting off slightly but I regret nothing. After we finished the boat ride we headed back to Glasgow and I did something extremely uncharacteristic: I met up with a group of my friends from Block One who were spending the night there and joined them on a whim.

Apparently this summer spontaneity is the name of the game. They had contacted me earlier that day during the sleep-inducing boat ride and mentioned that they needed a sixth person to go paintballing with the next day. Paintballing in itself is very uncharacteristic of me because of the fact that there is a definite certainty that you will be injured in some way in paintball. My life motto is to never put myself in harm’s way for no reason (that and never on-purpose run) which made me a very unsuccessful goalie for the most part but that’s all in the past now.

Joining them in their paintballing endeavors meant staying the night in Glasgow with one of their friends that I didn’t know. Their friend ended up being very sweet and I ended up considering him to be one of my friends as well, but the majority of the evening I was mostly concerned for my safety. Being with the others made me feel significantly better about the whole thing, however, and we explored the Glasgow nightlife and what that really meant. The result was a very late night that ended with us all crashing on the same bed.

We arose too early the next morning for our next adventure and said goodbye to my new friend and his two Chihuahuas. During our extensive cab ride to the paintball war zone I continued to contemplate my upcoming pain once more. I enjoy laser tag more than anyone should so I suppose I just thought I could channel that same energy.

And I did for the most part until I felt the first sting of a paintball and thought I was dying. I recovered instantly because I’m invincible and discovered very quickly that I really have no control over my limbs and don’t have a very good sense of where they are. Specifically my arms.

You’d think I would know where they are by now. The amount of times I was grazed on the arms was mind blowing. It wasn’t until the very last “battle” that I was hit with a direct shot. It was on the arm of course. I remember it well...

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We had so far held the small cabin successfully. It was important that a few of us stay back to ensure the cabin wouldn’t be taken while the rest of us ran for the church. Through gaps in the woodwork I could see the others make their way through the deep mud and light foliage, trying to somehow catch the enemy unaware. From my position in the cabin I could see the right side of the church and the sliver of space at the top which could easily fit the barrel of a gun.

Shots echoed around us constantly and many hit the back wall of our cabin, exploding with great thuds. Although I was crouching quite low, I could hear the thuds growing louder and closer to my position: the sliver of space in the church had been occupied. The few of us who had remained in the cabin realized that our side had failed at obtaining the church as a fortress and most abandoned the cabin in order to assist those we had sent out ahead. After a minute or so, me and one other were the only ones left to maintain the cabin. We tried conversing about a plan but his accent was heavy and the thuds were rather deafening.

I finally heard him yelling to me that he couldn’t see and I saw that a shot had splattered across his mask leaving him virtually useless at his position. I ran to his side to take up his post as he frantically tried to whip it away but the damage had already been done and he could only shoot blindly from this point onward. I rushed back to my spot on the opposite wall and thats when it happened. I knew exactly where it came from. That sliver of space where the enemy was just waiting for the opportunity I had just given them. Sharp, stinging pain radiated from the crook of my elbow and I saw a huge mass of blue paint oozing from the source. I inhaled sharply and gripped it for a second before I realized I was still in the line of fire. I lowered myself to the floor quickly and glanced at my fellow fighter. He nodded and I sprinted out of the cabin with my right hand up, my left arm still dripping blue paint. After what seemed like a century I reached base and turned to look at the war before me. I saw what I couldn’t see from my place in the cabin: a losing battle. The church was overrun by the enemy as well as the sparse woods surrounding us. We were falling left and right and blue splattered our limbs and our masks and the mud we tread through. I took a deep breath and headed back to the cabin. This war wasn’t over yet. Scene.

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A pub called Filthy McNasty’s: Surprisingly clean

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Unusual Things I’ve Witnessed

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6M

DISTILLERIES &

y small holiday to Belfast, Ireland has finally arrived. The purpose of this trip was actually a field trip for my International Relations class.

Perturbed by the fact that I was being forced to go to Ireland (the VERY idea) I was initially opposed to this trip and the extra expenses it required.

It wasn’t until a friend expressed interest in going around that same time for leisure that I decided to make the most of it (this scenario accurately defines the differences between what I was like when I got to Scotland and what I am now like after my experiences there). Conveniently, some friends happened to be going to Belfast at the same time we were and staying in the same exact hostel. This came as a great relief to parents worldwide considering seven kids wandering around a strange city is significantly better than just two. A few of us ventured down to Dublin to see the sights and, more specifically, the Guinness Factory. The only way I can accurately describe the factory is grown-up Willy Wonka. I mean, at one point we went into an all white room and smelled steam. I was also certified as a professional Guinness pourer (mom has recommended I not put this on my resume). When we returned to Belfast in the evening we went to a pub/bar/club? titled Filthy McNasty’s whose name was reason enough to go. It was actually quite nice and not filthy or nasty.

I eventually had to join my class for our field trip to areas of Belfast affected by The Troubles (a quite constant war between The Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland, which are actually two separate entities) complete with murals that were mostly awkward and weird. It was cold and I was exhausted from my adventures in Ireland thus far so I was praying for deliverance in the form of a pub most of the tour. My prayers were answered in no time and we discovered grace in the form of a traditional Irish buffet. Just imagine you’re lying on a bed of warm meat and potatoes surrounded by more meat and potatoes and a Guinness being served to you with a straw and that’s pretty much what it was like.

Eventually I had to break free of my meat and potato reverie and return to Stirling and the looming prospect of homework.

In the midst of homework (note my obvious avoidance), I attended the highland games in Bridge of Allan (a brief walk from the University). To be perfectly fair, the highland games were basically a glorified track meet. If track meets had hoards of bagpipers, a carnival, quality food, and kilts. Therefore, infinitely better than a track meet. I consumed a haggis burger because saying I had nachos at the highland games sounds pretty lame. In continuation of weird foods Maddy ate, I also managed to “enjoy” black pudding. I knew before eating it that it had something strange in it but I had momentarily forgotten, which was probably for the best. After digesting, I Googled it and discovered that the strange ingredient was in fact blood. I’m not sure why this grossed me out more that sheep lung, heart, and stomach but it did. Oh well. The deed is done.

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DEPARTURE

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My next adventure was back in Glasgow, but this time I went on my own (I’m a big kid now) and met up with a truly amazing Stephens alum. You always hear about the fantastic alumni and you see pictures of fellow classmates meeting them and learning from them but before this moment I had never actually hung out with one. Sabrina was super cool (this is a very accurate description of her actually and not just a millennial without a thesaurus) and I hope that I will be just as cool when I become an alum. Not only had she attended Stephens but her mother had as well. Its insane how successful and widespread Stephens Women are. Who knew that I would find one in Glasgow! Sabrina heads an internship placement program called Light on the Path and I was lucky enough to meet some of the interns she works with from all over the world. The interns I met were from Germany, France, and Italy. This was pretty neat considering I had really only associated with Americans and Scots thus far. The Italian boy took a strange liking to me that was altogether very European. I couldn’t stay in Glasgow forever, though, and headed back to Stirling for the Farewell Ceilidh and my last karaoke night.

A ceilidh is like the Scottish version of line dancing. This was rather funny to me because at the end of my summer in Colorado last year we had a farewell line dance. An interesting parallel of my two amazing summers. I was quite sad to attend my last karaoke night at the Kilted Kangaroo which probably sounds rather silly.

Karaoke night ended up being my favorite night of the week. My first karaoke night was when I met my friends that I was lucky to spend most of my time in Scotland with. They helped me to get out of my comfort zone and open up and I am extremely grateful for that.

Without them I wouldn’t have had all the great experiences that I did and I wouldn’t have known I had the ability to be spontaneous.

Karaoke night and the Kilted Kangaroo represented this to me and that’s probably why I will miss it so much. I should have gotten the coordinates tattooed on my foot...just kidding.

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On my last day in Stirling, my marketing class went to the Deanston Whiskey Distillery (I actually don’t know why we went there) and took a tour of the process. Of course, everyone was pretty much a zombie due to the previous evening’s…tomfoolery…and we practically crawled through the distillery. They gave us a sample of their whiskey and I immediately found out I am not a whiskey person. They wanted us to swish it around like mouthwash and I swear my gums went numb. I felt like I had swallowed a cleaning product. In the evening my wonderful friends had a fiesta of sorts and I think I got three hours of sleep on my horribly uncomfortable mattress. But everything I did was worth it and I don’t regret anything. The whole trip.

After being home for awhile and remembering what a bed with a cushion feels like, I’ve had some time to look back on my summer and fully realize that I’ve been gone for six weeks. London seems a lifetime away and right now even Stirling seems so long ago. I know I’ve said the word spontaneous so much you want to punch me in the throat (which is kind of what it feels like right now from all of the karaoke) but its extremely true that I have changed as a person because of this summer and have opened up to possibilities and opportunities. I have learned about a culture that I love and can’t wait to someday return to.

I’ll miss the Scottish people and culture most of all. In America all we ever do is rush rush rush and work just to keep working and then we’re a mess by the end of the day. In Scotland people work to survive but put friends and family above everything else. They enjoy spending time with strangers and getting to know them. They want to know your story instead of wanting to tell you their accomplishments. Not once did I feel uncomfortable in Scotland and I never felt self-conscious about myself.

Fascinating how a few weeks in a new place can change your opinion of the human race. I’ll never forget Scotland and specifically Stirling.

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M A K E S O M E N OT E S . . .

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