"Wherever You Go, There Is Love"
… A Highland Adventure
Zachary Norton
Issue date: 11/30/05 Section: features
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Versus Magazine Online [Image Edition]
Sitting here typing in the University of St. Andrews' lavish student union, sipping a vodka and lemonade, I cannot help contemplating the ridiculous questions my new Scottish and English friends keep asking me. "Why did you re-elect George Bush?" "Why did you drop the 'I' in aluminium?" "How can you watch American football when it's clearly inferior to rugby?" The queries are earnest, albeit naive. I don't mind answering them. I like acting as a sort of liaison between my British friends and American culture. Nevertheless, one question irks me whenever I hear it uttered. Its reply just seems so needless given the inherent charm of Scotland and its inhabitants: "Why did you come to St. Andrews?"
Even though the answer's arbitrary, it's complicated, for I have every reason not to be here. I'm a first semester senior boasting a completed English degree and no remaining CPLE requirements. Back at Nash-Vegas, I could be living with my best friend in a luxurious house off-campus, attending whatever classes I want, partying whenever I want without really having to worry about any sort of authority impinging on my fun. So why did I pick this semester to bugger off to Scotland? In the same way that a noir detective says "Chinatown," I say "London." Vanderbilt's wonderfully busy Humanities In London program gave me the relentless need to see Scotland in the first place. Instead of satiating my budding wanderlust, the six weeks I spent in England's crown jewel worsened it. Although the coincidence of the program and the terrorist attacks made me realize that I could never live in so populous and unpredictable a city, it nevertheless made me want to see the provincial side of the United Kingdom. I needed to see small-town life and I needed to meet small-town people. No more of this guided tour nonsense - I wanted an insider's perspective.
Sitting here typing in the University of St. Andrews' lavish student union, sipping a vodka and lemonade, I cannot help contemplating the ridiculous questions my new Scottish and English friends keep asking me. "Why did you re-elect George Bush?" "Why did you drop the 'I' in aluminium?" "How can you watch American football when it's clearly inferior to rugby?" The queries are earnest, albeit naive. I don't mind answering them. I like acting as a sort of liaison between my British friends and American culture. Nevertheless, one question irks me whenever I hear it uttered. Its reply just seems so needless given the inherent charm of Scotland and its inhabitants: "Why did you come to St. Andrews?"
Even though the answer's arbitrary, it's complicated, for I have every reason not to be here. I'm a first semester senior boasting a completed English degree and no remaining CPLE requirements. Back at Nash-Vegas, I could be living with my best friend in a luxurious house off-campus, attending whatever classes I want, partying whenever I want without really having to worry about any sort of authority impinging on my fun. So why did I pick this semester to bugger off to Scotland? In the same way that a noir detective says "Chinatown," I say "London." Vanderbilt's wonderfully busy Humanities In London program gave me the relentless need to see Scotland in the first place. Instead of satiating my budding wanderlust, the six weeks I spent in England's crown jewel worsened it. Although the coincidence of the program and the terrorist attacks made me realize that I could never live in so populous and unpredictable a city, it nevertheless made me want to see the provincial side of the United Kingdom. I needed to see small-town life and I needed to meet small-town people. No more of this guided tour nonsense - I wanted an insider's perspective.