Sammy the Smitten

       Apologies for the lack of blogging lately but that's how it always goes with these sorts of things, isn't it? However, there's much to update on so hopefully this one's substance will make up for the gap. This week, I went to my first two ceilidhs which were fantastic. But what's a ceilidh you ask? Imagine a traditional Scottish band filling a dance hall with folksy tunes. The women present are wearing adorable cocktail dresses, heels thrown to the side of the room for increased dancing opportunities. However, the men really steal the show. They are wearing traditional kilts, adorned with all the right accessories and if you're an admirer of strong, male calves like myself then a ceilidh is the place you want to be. The dancing style is similar to square or contra dancing but the halls are packed with only college-aged individuals. You can't imagine the fun of a stubbled Scottish man swirling you on his arm as the fiddler begins to liven her pace. You'll sweat like mad but by the end of it, everyone's wiping their brows so you're in good, disheveled company. I have always thought of myself as an okay dancer, at least passable, but here I was far out of my league, competing with individuals who have these moves in their blood. I was hoping to tap into my own Scottish heritage but the years spent in puritanical America seemed to have dampened my abilities. Nowhere else could men spin so vigorously, kilts lifting dangerously high. I will certainly be attending more of these dances and brushing up on my skills so that next time I am a participant instead of an obstacle on the dance floor.This is an example of what the dancing looks like:

      I also got to watch my first rugby match, however, it was in a pub and not at the actual Murrayfield stadium. It was the initial game in the 6 Nations Tournament, which includes Scotland, England, Ireland, Wales, France and Italy. This game was particularly important because not only was it the kick-off, but it was between Scotland and England. The two have a historical rivalry steeped in sore feelings. The pub was silent as the game began, only broken by cheering on Scotland's successful plays or the occasional "Bastard!", screamed at the English players. Unfortunately,  although Scotland had some impressive plays, England beat them with a final score of 13 to 6. So the two teams I was rooting for, the Patriots and Scotland, failed to deliver. You can only imagine what Edinburgh looks like on a Saturday night after a crushing loss to their biggest rivals, not pretty but incredibly fun for those who are less emotionally attached. 
     This weekend I visited the Dewar's whiskey distillery in Aberfeldy with the International Students Center. Aberfeldy is an adorable town, complete with charming brooks and the Aberfeldy Watermill. My day started with a traditional Scottish breakfast, a meal that shames any "well-balanced" alternatives. It often times has more varieties of meats on the plate than anything else. My favorite version so far included a fried egg, sausage, haggis, bacon, a roasted tomato and just in case you were still peckish, a gargantuan breakfast roll. Keep in mind, this is smaller option and only costs about three pounds. It's larger version probably wipes out half a farm just to produce. 
     After breakfast, or rather brunch as it was creeping towards noon, we headed towards the distillery and learned all about its history and production process. The business was built by two very entrepreneurial brothers. Tommy, the younger sibling, was particularly charming and became famous for his witty remarks, deemed "Dewarisms". My favorite two were "A philosopher is a man who can look at an empty glass with a smile" and "A teetotaller is one who suffers from thirst instead of enjoying it". We got to sample a 12 year old single malt whiskey that took its flavors from the heather and honey grown in Aberfeldy and it was a personal favorite of the specialist at the bar. However, I don't believe the pallets of my friends and I were quite prepared for the fiery flavors of straight whiskey. We sipped, trying to be polite and cultured, but the occasional cough or twisting face was inevitable. The Aberfeldy whiskey did have strong notes of honey but I think it would suit me better in a hot toddy than on its own. Here are some pictures from the day.

My friends and I trying our complimentary drams 

Pictures with a statue in the old storage building

Original mixing bottles while Dewars tried to find the perfect blend

     Continuing with the historical theme, Edinburgh is a city that is famous for thinking, boasting such reputable figures as David Hume, Adam Smith and even the man who invented the decimal system. However, there's a wonderful twist to this seemingly scholastic environment. Edinburgh is indeed scholarly, however, it is not dusty with the residue of old books and regimented study habits. The story goes that the best ideas invented in this city were not the result of hours in a library. Instead, these ideas were cultivated in public houses, or pubs, with a mulled-over stout in hand.  Can't you just see it? Imagine, powdered academics debating ideas, sloshing their drinks and coming to the climax of their heated arguments while night turns into early morning? It's fantastic! Consequently, my friends and I decided that we would follow suit and see if anything substantial came up in our own tavern-dwelling discussions. Indeed, we talked about politics, social constructs and a milieu of other wonderful, pretentious topics. We completed the night by ordering a chicken tikka pizza, which is the wonderful creation of late-night Indian cafes. Quickly enough, the dark became threatened with the chirp of early morning birds and we all returned to our dorms, satiated with only the best sorts of conversations. Being a philosopher in Edinburgh isn't the same pretentious title that it is elsewhere in the world. Here, the best books are created in bustling coffee shops, discussion outside of the classroom is as rewarding as discussion in the classroom and academics don't waste their time in fruitless solitude. They manage to combine the cultivation of new ideas with the enjoyment of friendship and spirits. I believe I may be falling in love with the marvelous city and I haven't even been here a month. Thus, my moniker this week, Sammy the Smitten, is the result of these blossoming feelings.