So far in my time abroad, I've become a person who doesn't have the concept of relaxing in her skill set. This past summer I turned into a morning person (regardless of whether I wanted to or not, thanks body clock) and my inability to settle down has only become heightened since arriving in the UK. London feels like its own little world, and I can't shake the feeling that every second I spend watching Ina Garten (as much as I adore her) is adding up to be a waste when there's so much I could be doing. I want to fill every second of every day, which isn't good for my wallet and will probably make me drop unconscious come December. I can't even fathom how irritating I must be to Paige & Colleen when I won't stop suggesting activities and babbling about places to explore at 9:30 in the morning.
But last weekend a strange little city in the north taught me that being gogogo isn't necessarily the way to be. At all times, at least.
A 9.5 hour bus ride brought us not only from Thursday to Friday but from London to Edinburgh, and ultimately to a Scottish sunrise. I instantly noticed two things about Scotland: 1.) that I could breathe a little deeper when surrounded by mountains, a sure sign that I'm missing the crisp Vermont air and 2.) No one was up, even though it was nearly 8:15. The city was completely dead except for Paige, Colleen & I. I was able to stand in the middle of the high street, right on the cable car tracks and snap pictures, something that would instantly reduce me to a pancake in London.
We had hours to kill since we couldn't check into our room until 3, so we kicked off our full day with breakfast in a kitschy little restaurant at the end of Princes Street that served food on wooden blocks and played nothing but Frank Sinatra and his rat pack friends. After we adequately lounged on the vintage couches, we set off to wander aimlessly through the city for a few hours, where we stumbled upon the most striking contrast of green grass and blue sky I have ever seen & the most gorgeous 360 degree views of Edinburgh Castle. After while, carrying our backpacks around got the better of us, and we stopped at the White Hart Inn, the oldest pub in Edinburgh, for some well-deserved carbo-loading, chatting & pints. This is where I came to my dilemma: I desperately wanted to stay out on the town and find some more of Edinburgh's hidden treasures, but our bodies were so exhausted from the time warp of a bus ride and carrying our clothes around the whole city that once the clock struck 3 we headed to the apartment to snuggle up in the coolest bunkbeds (should be an oxymoron, but trust me) known to man, and only extracted ourselves to go get personal pizzas.
The next morning we got up with the sun again to get a jump start on our full day of Scot-tastic activities. We kicked it all off with breakfast at the Elephant House cafe where Jo Rowling began writing the Harry Potter series, which may or may not be one of the reasons I wanted to visit Edinburgh in the first place. From the main dining room I could see the castle through the foliage, and it was incredible to daydream about Jo's writing process in the place where it all started. My favorite part of the Elephant House was the toilets: they were covered in floor to ceiling graffiti done by HP fans from around the world. I stayed in there for longer than necessary reading which quotes people decided to put up and the heartfelt tributes to Jo & her imagination. It gave me goosebumps, and I wish desperately for a sharpie to make my mark (for those wondering, I probably would have gone with a Hermione quote, or a full blown love letter to JKR).
Afterwards we headed over to explore the Edinburgh Castle for real, where I was graced with some more amazing views (seriously, the Scottish are pros at great views. A+ for lush greenness and fairytale-like buildings) and some practice for the Tower of London with the Scottish crown jewels. We wandered around the medieval buildings for hours, and though we were chased into a cafe by a weird misty rain, we came out to a full blown rainbow that was incredibly bright and looked like it spanned the entire city. After a quick lunch at a semi-unfortunate hole in the wall (Paige was given a salad comprised of shredded taco lettuce), we headed back up the hill for the main event of the day: the Scotch Whisky Experience.
When we booked our whisky tour the night before, we could not stop laughing. The description was too much: a barrel ride through the distilling process, a scotch tasting, and a commemorative glass. The joke was on us, though, because despite being the only people under the age of 35 and the only non-dads, the entire thing was fascinating. I now know a whole bunch of whisky facts, and would be happy to rattle them off for anyone who asks. Spoiler alert though: scotch is disgusting. After pretending to be middle aged, we topped our day off with some gelato for dinner at the cutest milk bar that looked like it was designed by quirk queen Zooey Deschanel herself, before collapsing into those same bunkbeds and snuggling with our other roommate, Joey the Cat.
It was low-key & a change of pace for sure, but I couldn't help missing the hectic new home I've found in London. I have brought a bit of Scotland back with me, though, and I don't just mean the lambswool scarf and the pictures of the North Sea that I snapped on our beautiful daylight bus ride. This week I've tried to slow down a little bit, choosing to have a full English breakfast with my new friends in between classes rather than running around trying to finish up schoolwork early & taking a weekend night off to have a hot chocolate and popcorn movie night with my roommates. And I haven't felt guilty about it one bit. I'll never stop doing things spur of the moment and I'll never stop wanting to explore every corner of England, but sometimes it's just nice to remember that I live here, and although my tomorrows in London may be finite, it doesn't mean that I can't take a lounge-around day every now and then.
Next weekend we're off to Paris, and the excitement that is radiating from me is indescribable. The roommates and I have made it a daily occurrence to yell "we're going to FRANCE" at least once if not multiple times. Until then, I'll be running around London and trying to distract myself.
But last weekend a strange little city in the north taught me that being gogogo isn't necessarily the way to be. At all times, at least.
A 9.5 hour bus ride brought us not only from Thursday to Friday but from London to Edinburgh, and ultimately to a Scottish sunrise. I instantly noticed two things about Scotland: 1.) that I could breathe a little deeper when surrounded by mountains, a sure sign that I'm missing the crisp Vermont air and 2.) No one was up, even though it was nearly 8:15. The city was completely dead except for Paige, Colleen & I. I was able to stand in the middle of the high street, right on the cable car tracks and snap pictures, something that would instantly reduce me to a pancake in London.
We had hours to kill since we couldn't check into our room until 3, so we kicked off our full day with breakfast in a kitschy little restaurant at the end of Princes Street that served food on wooden blocks and played nothing but Frank Sinatra and his rat pack friends. After we adequately lounged on the vintage couches, we set off to wander aimlessly through the city for a few hours, where we stumbled upon the most striking contrast of green grass and blue sky I have ever seen & the most gorgeous 360 degree views of Edinburgh Castle. After while, carrying our backpacks around got the better of us, and we stopped at the White Hart Inn, the oldest pub in Edinburgh, for some well-deserved carbo-loading, chatting & pints. This is where I came to my dilemma: I desperately wanted to stay out on the town and find some more of Edinburgh's hidden treasures, but our bodies were so exhausted from the time warp of a bus ride and carrying our clothes around the whole city that once the clock struck 3 we headed to the apartment to snuggle up in the coolest bunkbeds (should be an oxymoron, but trust me) known to man, and only extracted ourselves to go get personal pizzas.
The next morning we got up with the sun again to get a jump start on our full day of Scot-tastic activities. We kicked it all off with breakfast at the Elephant House cafe where Jo Rowling began writing the Harry Potter series, which may or may not be one of the reasons I wanted to visit Edinburgh in the first place. From the main dining room I could see the castle through the foliage, and it was incredible to daydream about Jo's writing process in the place where it all started. My favorite part of the Elephant House was the toilets: they were covered in floor to ceiling graffiti done by HP fans from around the world. I stayed in there for longer than necessary reading which quotes people decided to put up and the heartfelt tributes to Jo & her imagination. It gave me goosebumps, and I wish desperately for a sharpie to make my mark (for those wondering, I probably would have gone with a Hermione quote, or a full blown love letter to JKR).
Afterwards we headed over to explore the Edinburgh Castle for real, where I was graced with some more amazing views (seriously, the Scottish are pros at great views. A+ for lush greenness and fairytale-like buildings) and some practice for the Tower of London with the Scottish crown jewels. We wandered around the medieval buildings for hours, and though we were chased into a cafe by a weird misty rain, we came out to a full blown rainbow that was incredibly bright and looked like it spanned the entire city. After a quick lunch at a semi-unfortunate hole in the wall (Paige was given a salad comprised of shredded taco lettuce), we headed back up the hill for the main event of the day: the Scotch Whisky Experience.
When we booked our whisky tour the night before, we could not stop laughing. The description was too much: a barrel ride through the distilling process, a scotch tasting, and a commemorative glass. The joke was on us, though, because despite being the only people under the age of 35 and the only non-dads, the entire thing was fascinating. I now know a whole bunch of whisky facts, and would be happy to rattle them off for anyone who asks. Spoiler alert though: scotch is disgusting. After pretending to be middle aged, we topped our day off with some gelato for dinner at the cutest milk bar that looked like it was designed by quirk queen Zooey Deschanel herself, before collapsing into those same bunkbeds and snuggling with our other roommate, Joey the Cat.
It was low-key & a change of pace for sure, but I couldn't help missing the hectic new home I've found in London. I have brought a bit of Scotland back with me, though, and I don't just mean the lambswool scarf and the pictures of the North Sea that I snapped on our beautiful daylight bus ride. This week I've tried to slow down a little bit, choosing to have a full English breakfast with my new friends in between classes rather than running around trying to finish up schoolwork early & taking a weekend night off to have a hot chocolate and popcorn movie night with my roommates. And I haven't felt guilty about it one bit. I'll never stop doing things spur of the moment and I'll never stop wanting to explore every corner of England, but sometimes it's just nice to remember that I live here, and although my tomorrows in London may be finite, it doesn't mean that I can't take a lounge-around day every now and then.
Next weekend we're off to Paris, and the excitement that is radiating from me is indescribable. The roommates and I have made it a daily occurrence to yell "we're going to FRANCE" at least once if not multiple times. Until then, I'll be running around London and trying to distract myself.