The Water of Life

Once upon a time, in a kingdom far away, there lived a Good King who had (of course) three sons. Long before his time the Good King grows ill, and nothing can cure him; the princes try to find a way to save him but are at a loss until one day a little old woman (or a tiny old man, or a magical dwarf or a talking bird, depending on the story) tells them, "Fetch thy father the Water of Life, which shall surely make the Good King whole again." Of course, being a Good King, their father protests when the Eldest brother announces he is going to set off on this Great Quest, but the Eldest Prince is too determined; however, being the Eldest Prince, he is selfish and greedy, and rude to woodland animals and to old women/men/dwarves at crossroads. Always a bad plan. And of course, he gets himself trapped in a magical valley, or put under a curse, or turned to stone, because that is what happens to stupid Eldest Princes. The Second, also stupid Prince fares in a similar fashion, refusing to share his food with strangers/listen to their advice/cut their nails, and so the the Second Prince also gets trapped/cursed/petrified. (I feel like at some point, the Second Princes of the world must have started to notice a trend... except they are always vain and self-absorbed, so of course not.)

The Youngest Prince decides that his father the Good King wasn't heartbroken enough after losing two sons to their own idiocy, and decides to follow them to try to find the Water of Life. He is kind and honest and virtuous and humble and beautiful, of course, and little birds perch fearlessly on his his shoulders and baby bunnies skip about his feet. When he eventually encounters the stranger at the crossroads (old man, shall we say) he immediately offers to give the man his cloak for warmth and to share his food with him. The Old Man snorts, and says, "It's July you bloody great idiot, why on earth would I want your cloak?!" then sighs and munches on half of the Youngest Prince's BLT while telling him how to avoid the dangerous curses and spells, and giving him some loaves of bread to fend off hungry lions, and warning him not to taste the Water of Life himself. Off the Youngest Prince goes, singing to his woodland friends, while the Old Man sits back down, muttering "Bloody pansy." The Youngest Prince feeds the hungry lions, breaks the magic spells with his blinding good looks and humble charm, captures the heart of the (obviously beautiful and rich) Princess who guards the Water of Life, frees his idiot brothers and after having a lot of adventures in which he proves he is a First Class Hero and not a pansy at all, returns to his languishing father the Good King. The conniving, jealous Elder Princes had swapped the bottle of the Water of Life for a bottle of seawater, so that they would be favored in the Youngest Brother's stead, and the Good King coughs and chokes and splutters while the Youngest Prince scratches his head in naive confusion. When the Good King weakly raises the goblet of the real Water of Life to his lips, however, a strange expression of elation and amazement passes over his ravaged visage. "Is it working?" asks the Eldest Brother. "Are you healed?" demands the Second Brother. "What's going on?!" cries the Youngest Brother, as the Good King sits bold upright in bed. "By George!" The Good King exclaims, "That is the best whiskey I have ever tasted!" He scrambles out the bed, and grabs the bottle from the stunned Eldest Brother, holding it possessively against his chest, while beginning to dance a Highland Jig. "So smooth, such a delectable finish, such an incredible aroma! It truly is The Water of Life!"


Thus, the Whiskey Society of the University of Edinburgh was born.

*       *       *       *       *       *       *       *       *       *       *       *       *       *       *       *       *       *
Apologies to everyone for the absolute ridiculousness, and to the Brothers Grimm for my irreverent retelling of their wonderful tale which may or amy not have actually been involved in the christening of the University Society dedicated to the appreciation of Scotch. Said society, of which I am not a real member, threw a Burn's Night ceilidh and whiskey tasting party which I was lucky enough to attend. I know I said the outing last weekend was one of the best nights of my life but by golly this one was too! Not because of the whiskey (I do not know enough about it to appreciate its subtleties I suppose) but because of the live band playing traditional music, the hilarity of Burn's night festivities in general (the night celebrating the renowned Scottish poet Robert Burns), and DANCING! Ceilidh (pronounced kay-lee) dancing of the Scottish variety is ridiculously fun, in my humble opinion. It's sort of like line- or contra-dancing, mixed with a little bit of highland- or Irish-step-dancing, with a little bit of waltzing and polka-ing on the side. (Like the group dancing they have a Dicken's Fairs actually...) If you know me at all, you can imagine how much I LOVED this! The band was brilliant, the company was wonderful, and I danced literally until my legs ached. Halfway through the evening, they served a haggis (still haven't had any yet, it was very small and really just to keep up tradition rather than to eat) and read Robert Burn's "Address to the Haggis" in full, broad Scottish brogue. Apparently this is part of a traditional celebration of Burn's Night, as is the consumption of said haggis, accompanied by "neeps and tatties" otherwise known as turnips and potatoes.

Address to the Haggis

Robert Burns

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face, 
Great chieftain o' the puddin-race!
Aboon them a' ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm: 
Weel are ye wordy of a grace 
As lang's my arm. 

The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hudies like a distant hill, 
Your pin wad help to mend a mill 
In time o' need,
While thro' your pores the dews distil 

Like amber bead. 

His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An' cut ye up wi' ready slight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright, 
Like onie ditch; 
And then, O what a glorious sight, 
Warm-reeking, rich! 

There is a great deal more of it, all just as silly, and just as incomprehensible, and at the appropriate moment- "cut!" the boy speaking the address cut into the Haggis, and everyone applauded. Then more dancing, more drinking, and the evening ended with the whole group singing Old Lang Syne. Huzzah for Robert Burns, his night, and ceilidhs!

Mixed success with the photography (ie, utter failure) but you get the general idea.
Amazing band, awesome music, tons of fun. 

The sea, Oh the sea...

...Is the gradh geal mo croide~
Long may it stay between England and me!
'Tis a sure guarantee that some hour we'll be free -
Thank God we're surrounded by water!
          -Irish Folk/Prostest song

(Not that the sea is between England and me... I just like the song. Also, gradh geal mo croide, which rhymes with "me," "free" and "sea," means "bright love of my heart," or so google translate tells me.)

We went to the beach! Three miles walk there, three miles walk back, chips (and curry) in between. It was chilly, but gorgeous, and we could see all the way across the Firth of Forth to the banks on the other side. Beautiful beautiful.

Yep, we went by the Palace.
Yep, it is gorgeous.

There were SWANS! A lot of them. Alas, they were
avoiding my camera rather successfully.

Oh my word, so many fowl. Of various kinds.
It was a little overwhelming.

The chapel that we looked at on our hike up to Arthur's Seat.
Also, looming in the background and not looking
nearly as high as it actually is, is Arthur's Seat itself.

OCEAN.  Huzzah! A bit chilly though.

Traffic is mad. I never know where cars are coming from... or going.
It likely has to do with the fact that I still look the wrong way when I try to cross
street, but also because the streets are narrow, and people drive FAST.
...But the sunset was lovely.

Once again, Arthur's big, tall, impressive Seat.

"In Which There Is Great Success;" or, "We WIN at this game!"

You know the feeling you get when everything just seems to be going right? It's pretty darn great, in my opinion, especially when the situation in question could so easily go the other way. Situations that involve drinking and dancing are a few such situations, and I have to say, this Saturday was one of the best nights out I have had in my short little life. Everything just worked out, and by the end of the evening no one was upset, drunk, sore-footed, dissatisfied or otherwise unhappy. Three cheers all round!

The University of Edinburgh is, I am discovering, quite large. 28,000 students, or thereabouts, so I suppose I should not be surprised by the fact that there are four separate student unions (four!). One, as previously mentioned, is a castle, complete with towers, winding wooden spiral staircases and FIVE BARS. Five. It is also, I am told, the oldest purpose-built student union in the world (hence the ancient look of the thing I suppose)! Two of the others I have not visited yet, and the last is a student night club. The concept of such a thing just blows my mind. All you Mac people, take a moment and try to imagine an honest-to-goodness nightclub, with multiple bars, lounges and dance floors, on our campus. ... Yep. The thought makes me laugh! Imagining Mac kids going to it is even more laughable. :D Apparently, likely because they spend all week long partying here, Saturday nights are actually kind of dead nights in this city (weird, I know) and one of the only places to go dancing is "The Big Cheese" hosted by Potterrow Student center. Cheesy music, tons of University students, cheap drinks, etc. I didn't have really high expectations, I admit (I mean, that sounds a bit like a Kagin dance, doesn't it? Minus the drinks of course...) but it ended up being a really good time.

Alice and I were planning on going, having heard about "The Big Cheese" from one of her flatmates, and simply by chance I happened to overhear one of my own flatmates talking about going as well, which was BRILLIANT because she knew the way to work the system~ get there early when admission is free, get a wristband, leave for an hour, then go back by 10:30 when there are actually people dancing.  Such a good plan. Turns out, it was a good idea to get there before it opened, as there were several hundred people in line by the time they opened the doors (no joke) (once again, Mac kids... mind. Blown.) We went back to the flat after getting our wristbands, and because it is literally around the corner (think the distance from the dorms to Olin Rice, perhaps) we didn't need to check coats and were able to miss that massive line as well. Go us!

The music was so ridiculous. Words simply fail me - I cannot express the silliness that went on. So instead, here is a little taste... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EK2tWVj6lXw&ob=av2el  (BAAHAHA) There was also NSync, and Backstreet boys, and Michael Jackson, as well as rather a lot of music with which I am (thankfully) not familiar enough to remember. Ridiculous dancing ensued, as it tends to, and all of us enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. When eventually Alice and I took a break to rest our aching feet (crazy heels will do that to you :P ) and were trying not to stare too obviously at all the attractive men (dear lord there are so many and they are SO pretty to look at!) we were approached by a few of the aforementioned individuals. Important differences between these guys and the boys we had interacted with at other dance clubs: they were not (16 masquerading as) 18, nor were they overtly trying to get into our pants ("pants" hahaha), nor indeed were they obviously drunk. Older, cute, funny and interested in talking to us, and apparently in buying us drinks as well: so many good things about this situation. When eventually the fellow I was speaking with (Ewan, from ...Dundee? ~ huzzah!) indicated that he wanted to go back to the dance floor, it was not to get down despite the more modern,  non-cheesy club music, but to be silly and to have fun. Eventually the other fellow, Ben (from Aberdeen I think) and Alice and I just ended up talking for a decent 30~40 minutes, about Edinburgh, facebook, studying, drinks (OH MY GOD Crabbies Ginger Beer might just be the tastiest beverage, alcoholic or otherwise, that I have ever had in my life! Recipe for instant alcoholism. Oy Veh.) and life in general. By the time we all had traded numbers, sworn not to facebook each other too soon (since it eats our lives, and we must FIGHT IT) and gone our separate ways, I was comfortably sober, and totally blissed out.

Many of my classes are full of international students, and many of the international students are American, so I really haven't gotten to spend much time with many Scots yet. The other Scots we encountered previously at clubs were not the sort one does anything more than dance with (and sometimes not even that...) so it was absolutely great to meet someone who was not a party-crazy first year, but was a real, intelligent, conversing person and not just a sweaty male body.

Some of said sweaty male bodies have exhibited some unsettling opinions and rather vehement displeasure at (mild, gentle) rejection that has made me and several friends wonder whether American girls are considered easy here. I asked the fellow we were chatting with about this (indication of how decent a conversation it was, and how nice a guy he was) and he gave a very diplomatic answer. He said that we were the first American girls he had met at University (I was shocked, I feel like we are all OVER the place) but that in general, he felt that local girls do not approach guys with a sense of openness or a willingness to 'give a lad a chance,' but are more likely to walk away within a minute or two if they are not impressed. International students, he thought, were more likely to be curious and open to new experiences, and willing to chat with people who approach them. I don't know whether openness translates to easiness in the minds of horny freshman boys (likely) or whether guys are just a little pushier here once they have made a move (possible) or whether my friends' and my experiences have been isolated instances (also possible) but it was interesting to think about. I liked that he said international students too, rather than making it about Americans and American culture.

Sorry for the massive post my darlings, but there it is: I had a wonderful night, with silly music, amazing beverages, fun dancing, and lovely company. Cheers!

I'll tell me Ma when I go home...

Quite a lot, most likely (as I tend to... :D ). Including the fact that a traditional Irish song I had only ever heard belted out by the jaw-clenched lead singer of the Dubliners was recently played in a dance club, remixed and synthesized, to hilarious effect. It is truly quite ridiculous and makes me laugh. A lot.

YouTube: I'll Tell Me Ma Irish Clubland (This is a (slightly less obnoxious) version of the same thing, and it amuses me no end as well: YouTube: I'll Tell Me Ma Sham Rock)

I will also probably tell her about the lovely hike I had yesterday. Edinburgh city is positioned on and around a series of dramatic bluffs and crags (likely because of the strategic advantage of having one’s castle, about which the city grew, on higher ground). The highest of these bluffs – it would be called a mountain in the Midwest, and a (large-ish) hill in Colorado or California, so take your pick – is called Arthur’s Seat. It is almost 1000 feet in elevation, and unlike every other mountain I have ever climbed, completely covered in earth and grass and moss. I swear, it was like trying to climb a sponge; a big, wet sponge, due to the recent drizzles of rain. Lovely on the knees, bad on the currently-mud-covered shoes. (For the Geology lovers: it was formed by a now-extinct volcano, then carved by passing glaciers in the last ice age... or so says my Scottish History professor.) The story goes that King Arthur used the peak as a lookout from which he could view the surrounding country-side, and while I am not going to spend much time on the veracity of said myth, I must say that as far as views go, it was truly spectacular. We got a 360 degree view of the entire city, and could see across the “firth” (not “bay”) to the north and on to the mountains beyond. It was encouraging to be able to look down and spot buildings on campus, my dorms, the castle, and other landmarks all around the area – I am actually getting to know my way around a bit of the city, which pleases me no end. We stayed just long enough to watch the sun set, (at 4:20 pm, by the way – the days are absurdly short here) then very nearly RAN down the hill to escape the icy wind. It took about fifteen minutes for me to be able to feel my poor fingers again. To the Minnesotans: Yes, we are badasses, and yes, it is not nearly so cold here as it is there (nobody freeze please). Alas though, I have discovered that in my hubris I have been wearing insufficient layers and getting cold anyway, which makes me feel rather silly. You all know I should know better. It was alright though, and the rosy clouds fading slowly to expose the huge full moon, heavy and golden, made it all worth it. Tons of curry for dinner helped too.

Fun fact: apparently, curry is the most eaten food in Scotland, or at least in Edinburgh. Not Haggis (still haven’t tried it; I am a coward, I know), or potatoes, or fish and chips, or mash, or …mutton, or whatever else it is that Scots eat traditionally. This makes me really pleased on a practical level, because that means that there are Indian, Thai, Middle-eastern, Chinese, and Japanese restaurants EVERYWHERE. Not always affordable, but no more expensive than most other places. And what quite amuses me is the fact that in the greasy-little fish and chips joints, where the grimy glass proclaims FISH CHIPS KEBABS PIZZA BURGERS STUDENT DISCOUNTS, one of the options for one’s chips (ie, fries) is to order chips and curry. Again, still haven’t tried it. It’s an interesting idea though I suppose…


What one ought to have on one's chips is just one of the many little assumptions about life that I am having to rethink. For example, for twenty years I have been operating under the assumptions that Week Night means homework and sleep, not parrtaaay!, that "Natural" on a container of yogurt refers to its production, not its (very plain) flavor, that it's okay to skip shaving my legs during the week in the winter (it isn't when you are going clubbing...), that "purse" refers to a bag and not your wallet (here, men put their cards and money in "wallets," women in "purses," which they put in their "bags"), and the assumption that saying, "It's cold! Wish I had worn pants! (Instead of a skirt)" will not make other people think you are going commando (here, it will. Underwear=pants). I got a few funny looks with that last one, I must say... Haha!

Zoe and Dan and I, beginning our ascent up Arthur's Seat,
with Edinburgh city in the background

Yay pretty views. And Mac kids! 

There was a ruined chapel part of the way up... not sure
when it was originally built, but it must have
been lovely, if only because of the location:
gorgeous views!

A view overlooking the south-western part
of the city.
(Right) Dan was brave and climbed up onto
the marker of the peak: SO TALL!

Can you tell we were freezing?

Arthur's Seat~ so high! 

Classes Smashes, + some gossip

Gorgeous hall on campus...  I want to have class
in there! (I think I would be distracted by the
general prettiness though, alas...)

So, it appears that people occasionally do study here, despite all appearances to the contrary. After a week of stressing, I have finally gotten my classes sorted out, which is rather a relief. I am taking: Celtic Literature (2B), Scottish Studies 1B: Creating Scotland, and Shakespeare: Modes and Genres (typical, yes I know). Shakespeare promises to be interesting and not too hard (especially considering I have read about 10 of the 12 plays on the list! Hah. Nerdiness is a wonderful thing) and as an avowed lover of the Bard I think it should make me happy in general. Creating Scotland is a multidisciplinary study of the various forces that have shaped Scotland over its long history, and we have six or seven different lecturers coming in to talk about their various areas of expertise as they related to Scotland: Archeology, Anthropology, Geography and it's influence on the Scottish culture, linguistic studies of the Scottish dialect, cultural formation of the clan system and its eventual breakdown, ... It's a pretty exciting lineup. I am not even dissuaded by the fact that the lecture hall is massive (really, quite huge, and very steep, so that you are nearly writing on the head of the person in front of you...) and that there are seventy people in it (which, for a Macalester person, seems positively gargantuan). Celtic Literature will kick my butt, I think. It is taught in two sections, an Irish one and a Scottish one, and both of them involve tons of totally and completely unpronounceable names. Case in point: Giolla-Coluim mac an Ollaimh, Eoin MacMhuirich, Aonghas MacDhomnhaill, Mhac Fhionghuin, etc. And those are just the Scottish ones; somehow the Irish ones are worse. Dearie me. (Of course, they are absolutely gorgeous sounding when not mangled by the stupid Americans in the class...) The two professors are both very nice though, although the Scottish one is rather difficult to understand. The Irish professor is adorable; she looks like someone out of a history book, or a Victorian novel. In addition to her layered skirts, her leather boots, quaint buttoned sweaters and delicate features, she also manages to gather her hair into a heavy, elaborate, elegant bundle at the back of her head that looks like it must take HOURS. I really enjoy her lectures, and it is at least in part because her appearance is so appropriate: she matches the gorgeous, intricate molding and dark faded portraits that grace the walls of our classroom.

That is Teviot House, our student center.
Guess what?
IT IS ANOTHER CASTLE.
Oh, and it has multiple bars in it. ...!!!

I have gotten to know a few people in my Celtic literature class, which is pleasant: a few fellow American students, whom I identified by the looks of mild panic - identical to my own - that they had when required to say one of the horrendous names aloud; also a Canadian girl, and a few Scottish students as well. Bit of an amusing situation with one of the Scottish fellows - he and a few of his friends (I thought) were going for coffee after our morning class on Thursday and he invited me to accompany them. Turns out it was just the two of us, and we chatted for quite a while. I like getting to know people and he was very nice, so that was pleasant, and I let him talk me into getting lunch afterwards. Perhaps I am unpardonably dense, but it wasn't until we were halfway through the meal that I realized this was likely NOT meant just as friends (it was around the time of my joking admission that flavored vodka for me leads to bad decisions and his only half-joking assertion that that would be the first thing he would ply me with that I really caught on).  It was flattering to have someone want to buy me lunch/a drink, but he is a little older (26 I think; not a problem but not really my cup of tea) and alas, I am not interested. (Sorry for the lack of juicy gossip ladies ~ he is "not nearly handsome enough to tempt me," not to mention not TALL enough - you know me. Hah. Gold stars to the first one to name the quote... ) I had already agreed to visit a museum with him the next day - something I had been wanting to do anyway - and so I asked my friend Alice to accompany me to diffuse the potential awkwardness (for more on what does or does not count as leading someone on/a date, see the other blog to which I contribute: http://boygirltalk.blogspot.com/   :D It is amusing and silly and fun!) which she did beautifully. Three cheers for Alice!

We waited in The Forrest Cafe, a wholly volunteer-run
venue with eclectic, off-beat decor and excellent drinks.
Yes, that is a string of single gloves, with tags stating where they were found.

On our wanderings on our way to the museum we came
across yet another ancient gorgeous building.
Huzzah for shameless tourists snapping photos!!
No idea what the palace to the left is, but it is
truly beautiful.

Alice! And Teviot Row House. Yay.

I have been pretty lucky to have made such a lovely friend here: not only has Alice kindly saved me from the possible embarrassment of a not-date, but she has also been my fellow explorer, someone willing to split pints of Guinness (because really, that is a lot of very heavy beer for one person... or at least for me), and has accompanied me out into the big, scary world populated by People Who Go Out On Weeknights. Apparently, this applies to just about everyone in this city, or at least everyone who goes to the University. There is a club literally around the corner from my residence hall (or "Accommodations" as they are usually referred to) called the Hive, which, while not the classiest of venues ( it is peopled by either "twats" or sullen emo kids, depending on the night and music, it seems) does play danceable music, and has drinks that are affordable, and, most attractive of all, THE GUYS OUTNUMBER THE GIRLS ON THE DANCE FLOOR. I swear, I am NOT lying. Reportedly, this is not at all uncommon, I was amazed and ecstatic to learn.

This means that although I came down with a cold and don't feel up to partying this weekend, it isn't really a problem: the party will still be happening next week. (And the week after.... And...)

Houses, Caves, Dorm rooms, Castles

'The Elephant House' is the name of a rather lovely café about three minutes walk from the campus of the University of Edinburgh. It is renowned for its excellent hot chocolate (even better when one adds Bailey’s, or Kahlua, or ~goodness me~ BOTH), its pleasant atmosphere, the awesome elephant-themed décor, and the fact that about seventeen years ago a single mom on welfare spent rather a lot of time sitting at one of their tables, writing a story about a scrawny orphan with messy hair and a magic wand... Yes my friends, I am sipping a mocha in the café known as the birthplace of Harry Potter. (Aaaaahhh!!!!) As if that weren’t amazing enough, their drinks really are excellent, there are Babar books in the corner, and they are playing Mumford and Sons. If you are not familiar with them (and even if you are; they are AMAZING) take a moment and listen to this. Now.

YouTube - Mumford and Sons The Cave

As most of you are aware, I became admittedly obsessed with this band last semester. The listen-them-on-repeat, know-all-the-words, drive-your-housemates-nuts-by-refusing-to-play-anything-else sort of obsessed. Their lyrics are interesting and intelligent, their melodies are lovely and/or fun, and their songs were just what I needed to hear at times. So this situation right now makes me really pleased.

A very wise and wonderful woman told me once when I was going through a difficult time that I should stop, and ‘count my gratitudes:’ recall to mind all those many things for which I am so grateful. It’s a pretty darn long list even at the worst of times when I am wallowing and cranky with the world, because in general, I am supremely lucky and life is rather excellent, but right now? That list would go out the door. It would start with the opportunity to be sitting here, looking out the window at Hogwarts  the Edinburgh Castle, and would end with the fact that, although five floors worth of stairs – up a spiral staircase! – is a long, long way to climb to get to one’s room, I get to see the ocean out of the window on the way up. It would include having said room be abnormally large and quite nice, and having one's flatmates be not only generally friendly but people who share your interests (Theater! Crew!) and who are well on the way to becoming real friends. It would also include having the chance to get to know peers who are from somewhere else, different, unique (and wholly 'luvly) and at the same time to discover our similarities and to bond with both Korean exchange students and Scottish farmers’ daughters over things like protective fathers and extended editions of the Lord of the Rings (LOVE!). (Thus far, my family and I are still the only ones I have met crazy enough to watch all three in a row. So much Middle Earth. So worth it.) I am grateful for the chance just to be in this wonderful part of the world. …The fact that they listen to awesome music just makes it all a little bit better. :D

A quiet sunrise through the Edinburgh clouds,
out of my window on the first day of class.

This is as close as I could get to the Royal Palace (where the Queen and Princes stay when they come to Scotland)
without handing over several pounds. It was still quite impressive, and a mile directly east of the Castle.
Below is the Scottish Parliament, reinstated in the '90s; a thoroughly modern building that looked at least 500
years older than everything else in the city.

                                                                           

I came across this memorial on one of my
 random wanders. It looks ...Greek?
Also, please note that as per the photo to the left,
ALL THE BUILDINGS ARE CASTLES.

         

 Up to the right is the museum of Scotland, on campus, free, and rather pretty I think. To
the left is the statue of Greyfriars Bobby, a little scottish terrier who
was inseparable from his owner, a night watchman. When his owner
died, Bobby sat by his master's gravefor his remaining 14 years,
still guarding it.

One of the MANY elephants in the Elephant House cafe,
and a distant view of Edinburgh Castle...! (Hm. I
can't imagine where Jo Rowling got the idea for Hogwarts...)

Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus.
...
I am a nerd. And I really like this castle.