Beautiful days in Edinburgh

Tuesday morning started classes.  As I was one of the writers presenting at workshop this week, I did not want to be late for my very first course.  Coffee in hand, iPod in my ears, I left the flat with an extra ten minutes to find the building where my class would take place.

Edinburgh, by the way, is a veritable labyrinth of twisting streets and tiny little alleyways.  My sense of direction in this city is based on my constant awareness of the location of the castle, of Arthur's Seat, and of the University's main campus.  Having walked through campus, I knew I had to go north toward the castle just a little more to get to class.  Trouble was, I hit a Y in the road.  Not a normal Y, mind you, but a roundabout-type Y, with a big paved circle in the middle where pedestrians stood to gauge when they could cross the next part of the street.

I considered my options a little too long and took the wrong street.

I wasn't worried.  I had given myself an extra ten minutes so that when I got lost (it was an inevitability from the time I left my flat) I could find myself again and still get to class on time.  I turned around, went down the correct road, and promptly passed right on by the 5-foot wide alleyway in which my building hides itself.  I wasn't very observant that morning.

I turned around again at the end of the street, found the correct alley, and walked up to the building with no small sense of relief.  We needed to swipe our student cards in the door so that it would unlock and we could get in.  No problem, I had lots of practice with swipe cards back at Wooster.

Mine didn't work.

A man doing renovations on the building let me and the two other girls who had arrived in - neither of their cards worked either.  It's a good thing they're renovating the building, because they can add the swipe card device to the list of things which need to be fixed.

I wandered around a little inside the building, and could not for the life of me find the room in which we were supposed to be meeting.  I was supposed to be in 6.01.  There's no sixth floor in that building.  Maybe I got the room number wrong, I figured, and I was really in 1.06.  I couldn't find 1.06 either.  There were men painting everywhere, there was scaffolding taking up entire rooms, I'd had a full cup of coffee already and the caffeine had definitely kicked in, and I couldn't find the classroom.

I started to panic.  I could not be late for my first postgraduate course, I could not be late to a workshop in which my work is being critiqued, I could not be late.

I saw a face in the hall that I recognized.  It was one of the professors I'd met on Induction Day - I thought.  Maybe  it was one of the professors I'd met on Induction Day.  Maybe I was crazy.  I walked up to her tentatively, she asked "Are you Ainsley?" and I was relieved.  She guided me through a dark room with scaffolding and paint cans and dropcloths everywhere, the kind of dead-looking space that's often used for horror flicks, and we suddenly - amazingly - arrived in a bright room with fellow writers sitting in a circle.  My professor had been standing in the hallway to catch us and make sure we found the classroom.  I was two minutes late.

The rest of the week went smoothly.  I've only got classes on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays, so I spent some time fixing the piece that had been submitted to workshop and considering what to do next.  Although I'm getting used to the weather, I still find it hard to believe it's so warm at home and so cold here.  I haven't turned on my heating yet, but there has been a lot of cuddling under my blanket and in my housecoat.  My consolation is that in December, January, and February, I'll have milder temperatures and a less severe winter than everyone left back on the other side of the ocean.

Settling In South of the Meadows

These past few days have been all about learning to live without the internet.  The day I moved in, this meant setting up my room, shopping at the Pound Stretchers, and getting my first round of groceries.  My lack of internet on this first day gave me the time and desire to make my room comfortable.  I've got a nice little vanity, a small bookshelf which will soon be full of secondhand books, and a wonderful little bed, duvet cover courtesy of Mom.  The room I'm now living in is larger than the room I lived in last year, and as a bonus, I also have a separate kitchen and living room.  Luxurious, indeed.  The open space between my desk and my vanity is wide and clear and perfect for zooming through my  room on my chair. 

I work very hard to keep my room tidy, and I don't have a single item of dirty (or clean) clothing on the floor as yet - it helps when I know I'm rolling all the way across it every day.  I've been making my bed every morning as well, something that Mom and Dad probably don't believe.  Since my room is across from the kitchen and the door is open if I'm home, though, it's good to have a tidy room. Now if only I could decide whether or not I need a floor lamp at the bottom of my bed, I would be golden.

The kitchen is rather nice as well.  Unlike last time I was here, it has loads of cooking space.  It's actually pleasant to wash dishes here, too: our kitchen is directly above the tunnel to the car park, and our sink has a window so we can see everyone who walks in.  Some of our friends and neighbours have taken to looking into the window on way home and waving if we're there. 

I also have a lovely little basil plant which lives next to all the dishes left to dry, and it seems to be thriving for the moment.  We've done our best to make our kitchen homey, so we have accessories spread here and there across the counters in addition to my plant: a set of glass jars that say "Coffee", "Tea", and "Sugar"; a toaster I picked up at Tesco for only £4.50; my little white teapot.  Even though I'm the only one in the flat so far who seems to know how to cook more than canned soup, we're starting to enjoy sitting in there together for lunch or for some water at the end of a night.

Day two, there was a Fresher's Ceilidh down at Pollock Halls.  The event was flushed with little 18-year-old boys and girls trying to impress the opposite sex, but I'd gone with a big group of international postgrads.  The dances were all about jumping and spinning and turning and switching partners.  It was great fun, and something a lot of us are excited to participate in again when the International Office or the Student's Association holds one. 

As enjoyable as it was laughing at freshers, we've since been going to events that say "Postgraduate" or "Mature Students" in the title.  This rule is easily broken, however, if the event description includes free food.