Oxford 6

They say that time flies when you are doing other things. Unfortunately, those 'other things' do not include writing in my blog. I've just come back ('just' as in 'last night') from a Bing-sponsored weekend trip to Edinburgh, Scotland. In the course of running around medieval castles, musing at modern art, drinking strawberry beer and watching Eurovision (Jedward should have won!!), I have amassed a substantial homework debt. Let me not linger on that, but suffice it to say that there would probably be better uses of my time right now that writing a blog post.

However, there are worse allocations of procrastination time. For example, the 23 games of free cell that I won last week and the 3 games of free cell that I lost. The majority of those were played between the hours of 11 pm and 6 am. Poor life choices...

Allow me the brief space to loosen up my writing muscles for the essay I am about to write, by offering a brief ode to Scotland.

O! Scotland! City of moss and mist and rain and witch trials and Sir Walter Scott and kilts and 6-story tall split level buildings perched on granite rock. You are wonderful. Everyone who visits the UK should also visit you.

Ok, so that was not very profound or serious. A poor indication of my time in Edinburgh since the emotions that the trip incited actually tend more towards the profound and serious. I love cities of intense juxtaposition: old/new, high/low, nature/culture. That first category is satisfied by almost anywhere that I might travel in Europe or the UK. It is impossible for Europe to hide the remnants of centuries past. Edinburgh seems to glory in the close proximity of the old and new. As for high/low - I don't mean social class. I'm thinking of geological levels. The city is built on an ancient volcanic rift that provides massive rock protrusions with rugged cliffs - that is, the perfect locale for an optimally defensible medieval castle! Within the city itself, this extreme topology means that you can think you are entering the first floor of a building when it is actually the fourth floor of a split-level construction. It's not unusual to realize that you are on a bridge three stories above a street that you were just walking on, without remembering the ascent. As for the nature/culture juxtaposition, it is undoubtedly the chief attraction of Edinburgh from my perspective. Green - seemingly evergreen! - hills linger in the distance, spotted with sheep. The rugged lay of the land inevitably leaves areas that no person ever saw fit to build upon. Look up 'Arthur's Seat' to see what I am talking about.

Oh, and did I mention the accents?

I've just left, but I am already imagining ways in which I might be able to return to the city some day. For now, to the land of Narnia! (with a brief excursion into 18th cent. London and Bristol in Frances Burney's 'Evelina')