I've been back from Scotland for an entire week now, and I'm still trying to process the last five, incredible months – I'm sure I will be for a long time. If you read my last post, you'll know I'm a big fat liar. I most definitely did not turn this into a travel blog for the semester and write weekly posts to keep you updated.
This blog hasn't seen a post in almost a year!
It was the kind of experience that makes you start fifty different descriptive sentences and delete them all. Which is what I've done.
But mostly, it's been a year of living and experiencing things. Most of my writing has been offline, in a little leather journal that followed me everywhere. A long time after I first started to process my amazing time abroad, I finally wrote something for the Iowa Honors blog (originally published here) ♥️
Sunset on Calton Hill
what i did, and what i didn't do
They told me that when I was abroad, life back home would keep moving. That when I came home, I’d keep moving too.
Still, I was surprised at how quickly I got back into a routine after touching down in the Kansas City International airport. At how it only took a few days for the absence of the ocean to become normalised. The Midwest eased back into my reality and Scotland returned to being a distant fantasy. But people said study abroad would fade as the weeks State-side increased; I wouldn’t believe them. Four weeks removed from Edinburgh, and I still won’t.
Seacliff Beach, near North Berwick
I got on a plane at the beginning of January 2019, ready for a semester of liberal arts courses in Edinburgh, Scotland. I left Iowa with a list of things I hoped to do. And I did a great many things while abroad (if the pictures in this post lead you to believe I actually lived on Arthur’s Seat, the giant hill between the city and the sea, you’re on the right track). But I think it’s important to begin by saying there were a lot of things I didn’t do in Scotland.
I didn’t write the novel I was hoping I’d write, though I had so much time to try. I didn’t do yoga every day, or make it to Wales to set foot in the land my blood comes from. I didn’t read all of Walter Scott’s novels, or the majority of Robert Burns’ poetry (I did, however, read one of his poems on the top of Arthur’s Seat just after midnight).
Arthur’s Seat at Midnight
Of all the things I didn’t do in Scotland, some of them were harder to “not do”. Stress and fear—I began my semester filled with both of these, but as I kept going, they began to drain out of me. I spent the first few weeks on edge, feeling like I “wasn’t doing enough” until I remembered why I’d chosen to study abroad in the first place. I wanted to reflect! I wanted to watch myself exist in a new environment, one that was less demanding of my time, so that I could focus on the inside parts that really mattered.
For the first time in years, I had before me an extended amount of time that could be dedicated to quiet, inexplicable, adventurous things. My original goals were well-intentioned but for many of them, I soon realized, it wasn’t the right time at all. I was too busy living, too busy experiencing the very real world around me to even think about writing fiction, for example. I decided to remove the expectation of getting much writing done at all, and instead focus on living in the moment. Make art in the way I lived, and write about it later.
I suppose that’s what this is. The “writing about it” part.
A trip to Kinsale, near Cork, Ireland
I once read a piece of fiction by Joe Brainard, titled “I Remember.” In terms of formatting, it’s relatively simple. A collection of things he remembers. And while all of these things are personal and specific to Brainard’s life, often inside references to people or events you as a bystander cannot comprehend, you start to think about your own memories. What it means to remember, how a single sentence can conjure up a whole vivid scene.
It’s like encrypting pieces of your life. Zipping up a couple hundred Word files so you know they’re all there when you want them later.
That’s how I think about Scotland.
A stop along the highway in the Scottish Highlands
Study abroad is such a sprawling, all-encompassing event— you can’t just sit down and write about it as a whole. At least not in a way that would do it proper justice. I think most of us come across this issue around friends and family who ask that horrible question, “How was study abroad?” and expect us to summarize six months of intense personal growth and world travel. I’ve resorted to spewing superlatives until they nod, satisfied. One does not simply summarize study abroad.
Isle of Skye with the Scottish flag!
For now, the most I can do is remember the pieces. Clips of conversations, images I’ve saved in my mind and on my iPhone’s desperately full camera roll.
Now, in the style of Joe Brainard, I want to give you some of these pieces.
I remember the color blue. I remember it in the sea and in the sky. I remember blue next to yellow gorse bushes dotting endless hills of the best shades of green I’d ever seen. I remember the strange light of the city, the brilliant grey stones of the buildings, old and so present in the moment.
Isle of Skye
I remember walking. Walking for hours to reach the sea. Taking the long way back. Walking through the city, aimless, aware, listening to “Home” by Dotan and feeling the wind (so much wind). I remember telling ourselves the peak of that hill was only a few more steps away, then spending the next hour trying to reach the top of it. I remember walking each day until I found somewhere I’d never seen before.
Best sunrise of my life (Arthur’s Seat)
I remember hiking Arthur’s Seat at every time of day, including four in the morning after having stayed up all night to catch the sunrise from the top of it. I remember the thirty-minute train ride to North Berwick, our favorite little seaside town. I remember exploring the ruins of countless castles and familiarizing myself with dozens of train stations in small Scottish towns.
Arthur’s Seat during the day!
I remember how in the beginning, I felt alone and wondered if I’d forgotten how to make friends. I remember how anxiety fell off in layers like bark, and how wonderful it was to be a stranger among so many friendly people. I remember the last week. Days of leaving, of giving hugs we knew would have to last for an undeterminable amount of time. I remember how happy I had become there.
I remember these things with an ache— sometimes a happy ache, sometimes just an ache. Sometimes I dream I’m back on the streets of Edinburgh. I try to piece together what home means, now that my soul is scattered over two different continents. But most importantly, I remember.
Sunrise over Arthur’s Seat, Edinburgh
Cheers,
Caroline Meek
This post was originally published on the Iowa Honors blog.
