Our first full day of St. Andrews several of us spent it like good Catholics: at the Cathedral: well, what was left of it (I'll leave harassing Protestants for another time). It truly is a lovely place. The way the arches of windows manage to stand upon the splintered foundation of crumbling walls is inspiring and breath-taking in a most inexplicable way. Our visit was even graced by the moon's appearance- peaking through the old remnants of the once proud guardians of kaleidoscopic stained glass- despite it being before sunset (which at that time had to be at the latest 4:30). Most all that is left unharmed is the tower of St. Rule (St. Regulus) named after the Patras monk who brought bones of St. Andrew to that spot in Fife after an angelic vision warning him to remove as much as he could carry from Patras to the ends of the Earth before the remains could be transported to Constantinople. Standing out in the cold that day, it sure felt like he hit the jackpot on the "end of the Earth" deal.
The "warmer waters" of East Sands
St Rule's Tower (left) with the main spires in the background
Snow drops: proof that no matter how frigid and inhospitable a
place may seem, there is always the warmth of God's Love
and remainder of Beauty enough for a flower to grow.
Perhaps my favorite place here lies just West of the cliffs of the Scores, up on a green hill overlooking sand, stone, and sea. For me, there is no more sublime place this side of my own dear Texas. Sitting on the second to last bench there, I can stare out at the North Sea for an eternity. Days when the high was 2 C, I could huddle down into my coat, Baylor scarf around my face, hands folded inside their opposite sleeves reminiscent of a monk. The weather couldn't effect me there. During dark nights, I was lost beneath the tide of the North Sea, staring too long into the abyss to be pulled out by the elements. On warm days, I cannot help but stroll there. Even when the walk was over 20 minutes from my dorm, I would make the walk up for no other reason than to lose myself in that place. The North Sea has no memory, no cares, no distraction. It IS in the purest and most sublime way unimaginable. And I swear, watch the waves slide along the shore, dance amongst the rocks, or slumber beneath a calm surface long enough, and the sublimity cannot help but bleed into the consciousness. It may be the happiest, calmest, most excited, and most tear summoning place on this isle. It is true catharsis the likes of which cannot be described in word or picture.
So here are some pictures. And words.
The highest tide I've seen here yet.
I would describe my dorm, but I just recently wound up in a new one, not a week ago. I could not be happier. I was in New Hall, a nice building built in 1993 (even younger than I) settled near all of the science buildings, far away from my home of Edgecliffe, the philosophy building (only about 20minutes at a brisk pace). It's fair to say I hated it. Now I am in St. Regulus, a gorgeous building built as a hotel in the 1880's as hotel. It's a grey stone (possibly Portland stone) building nestled at the end of the long street of Queen's Gardens just south of South street, not 10 minutes from Edgecliffe. The people are very warm and welcoming, and despite my own lack of comfort (having moved in a month after everyone else has gotten acquainted and formed circles), the community is great. Another member of our Baylor group has lived here from the start and she has been kind enough to let me tag along with her to various things, which I could not appreciate more. Hopefully I will find my niche soon, but already I am madly in love with it.
St Regulus Hall from the corner of Queen's Gardens (left)
and Queen's Terrace (right).
Edgecliffe, the Philosophy building on the Scores
On the left, Moral Philosophy students enter
On the right, Metaphysics and Logic.
My view from the Edgecliffe library.
(not pictured: Hegel, which is on the desk. I promise.)
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