It is raining hard here in Scotland, and I thought I would take advantage of this stormy afternoon to wander back onto WordPress. I have been in Europe forty days now, and I want to thank you so much for sticking with me so far during this amazing time.
I find myself now at the second major turning point of the journey. Our first block of classes has concluded, and this last week was a whirlwind of final presentations, projects, and papers. Hence my lack of communication with the outside world. Come Monday I will begin a new course, as well as some preliminary studying for the GRE, but we won’t talk about that last bit.
Most on my mind at the moment is the fact that many friends who were only here for the first block are going home, and I don’t know whether our paths will cross again. It’s funny how it took coming to Scotland for all of us Americans to meet and become friends. Life works backwards like that sometimes. Fortunately all of my wonderful flatmates are here for the rest of the summer, and I am eager to meet those arriving today for the second half of the summer.
A lot has happened since I last wrote, and I’ve seen a variety of places such as Edinburgh, Stirling Castle, and the Highlands. Rather than trying to play catch-up, I’m going to focus on last weekend’s excursion to Glencoe with my friends Nick and Holly. The three of us wanted to travel north and do some mountain climbing, and so we headed to the renowned destination of Glencoe in the Scottish Highlands.
A tiny village with a bloody history, Glencoe’s main draw is the location: a wide valley surrounded on every side by mountains that rise into the misty sky. Some call it the most beautiful place in Scotland. While I have not been everywhere in this fine land, I cannot begin to fathom a place more breathtaking than Glencoe. I’ve never seen real mountains before, and was completely unprepared to be so enamored with the majesty of the Highlands.
We figured we backpacked over twenty miles in two days, every step and blister well worth the joys of trekking through the woods and seeing sights I want burned into my memory forever. As we sat in the sun by Loch Leven waiting for our bus to take us back—and half hoping it wouldn’t come—I thought of how much I didn’t want to leave the Highlands or face the goodbyes of the coming week.
As sad as it is when good things come to an end, in a way I’m glad that they do. It makes time more meaningful when you know that it’s definite; you see the time you do have as a gift, time that must be spent well and not wasted. And while good things do end, you never know what better things lie ahead. And the best things, we are promised, last eternally.
Holly and I somehow returned from our weekend with a rekindled Coldplay obsession. This one’s at the top of my list again, a tune that was popular the last time I was in Europe.
Thanking you for reading and wishing you all the best,