A Love Letter

Yup, it's that time of the year again. First of all: click the lovely Mumford and Sons link, and listen to the awesome music. Second of all: hands up anyone who has ever woken in the morning, cranky at just the thought of this holiday with all its insipid protestations of love, the candy hearts (that really just taste like chalk even if they do say "yours 4ever"), the red and white teddy bears with glassy eyes clutching plush pillows, the overpriced Hallmark cards, and happy couples snogging all over the place...? If your hands are NOT up in the air, you can reach the keyboard, and hit the little red close button, and GO AWAY; we don't want you here.

...Fine, you can stay, but you are still strange.

Hah.

Honestly, I am not bitter about Valentine's day, or as some of my friends refer to it, about "Singles Awareness Day" (*waves cheerfully* yep, that's me!) (Oh! Here's another lovely link for you when you're done with the first one... hah!); I am far too much of a romantic to object to a day celebrating all the cheesiness and puppy-love I not-so-secretly adore. It is good to have a day to actively remember all the people you are grateful for in your life, and to tell them that you care... And I have a very long list. There are so many people that I could not do without ~ family and friends, new and old. [Mom-Dad-Theo, of course, lovely Alice, Emily, Chelsea, Madison, Lindsay, Seong, Anna, Marissa, Mollie, Maya, Erica, Nathan, darling Liz, tall Dan Allen, Kilian, Victoria!, Anne and Teddi, my fantastic flatmates here, Leigh and her humor, Mac Crew (2009, 2010, and 2011~ you are ALL brilliant), the incredible inspiring Ellen, Maggie, the Tolstoyans, Tessa, Luke, amazing Jamie,... And far too many more to list here. I love you all.] This post, however, is not to you, but to the latest greatest love of my life, for whom I am considering staying halfway across the world. I have fallen head over heels, my friends. It was love at first sight, you know, and it has truly blossomed into something wonderful. Sure, I have been in love, but I swear I have never felt this way before... So here goes.

Dearest, darlingest, loveliest 

Edinburgh:

Happy Valentine's Day!

It's taken a lot of guts, dear old city, to work up the courage to tell you this, but... *blush* I like you. Quite a lot, actually. I mean, like like you. ..Er.

I've been wanting to thank you, Edinburgh, for a few things that I've learned since I have been here. One of those things is that some things never change. The horrible noise of my morning alarm is just as awful when it wakes me up for Celtic Lit as it used to be when I was in Turck or Bigelow. Waiting for someone to call or text is just as nerve-wracking here as it is in frozen Minnesooota, or (relatively) sunny California. The feeling of  laughing with friends is the same, the bad (often American) music played in clubs with the same, and the awful Valentine's Day decorations, alas, are also the same. Thank goodness that, just like in the states, Valentine's day is also an excellent excuse to eat waaaaay too much chocolate. Some things don't change, no matter which side of the pond you are on (mmm, Lindt. So amazing. Also, Swiss and Belgian and German chocolates are far more accessible here...).

But despite the fact that some things - the paper hearts, the explosions of red and pink, and all the wishing [wish he was single; wish I was single; wish he was interested, or I was, or both; wish I had the time; wish he had the time; wish we were on the same continent; wish I wanted him; wish I didn't want him; wish it wasn't complicated; wish there was something - anything - to be complicated] - are the same no matter where you go, I am discovering that being here means that some other things are utterly different. Living in a new place, meeting new people, becoming someone new means that you don't have to carry around baggage. The past is irrelevant, if you want it to be. You don't have to be the person who had someone, once, and now doesn't, or the person who never had anyone at all, or even the person who has someone now and wonders if it is right to let things go on from habit and affection and fear. All you have to be is you. Right now. And if you are happy, then that is all that really matters isn't it? And that, my lovely Edinburgh, is so, incredibly liberating. Being here makes me feel like opportunities are endless! Not just for love (although compared with wonderful, tiny, oh-so-limited Mac there seem to be tons of romantic opportunities, simply by virtue of there being more people...) but for life: studying, dancing, learning, exploring, connecting, basking, working, walking, meeting, adventuring. Breathing. Laughing. And this Valentine's day, I feel pretty much in love with life. Mostly, though, with you, dear Edinburgh: with the bumpy cobblestone streets that KILL my feet in heels, with the low-slung sun that reflects off the wet sidewalks ever morning, with the seagulls and pigeons that whirl and scold overhead, with the hint of salt and brewing beer that flavors the air, with the curries and the meat pies and the chips, with the double-decker busses that come tearing around corners like a hurricane on a mission, with the clank of glass and muffled music that puts me to sleep every night, with the old stone and the new glass, with the allies and closes and wynds, with the towers and the sunken streets, with the looming crags that demand to be scaled, and with the twisted streets that beg to be explored. I am in love with Scottish accents, as I might have mentioned. Once. Or twice.

I am in love with the way the clouds appear and disappear in an hour, unpredictable and dramatic, and with the way the chimneys stand starkly against the sky in the evenings and the mornings. I am in love with the adrenaline that comes from being surrounded by a group of yelling, desperate or elated rugby fans in a smoky little pub (especially when some of those fans are rather lovely boys in the Royal Airforce... !!! Om nom nom), and with the contrast of daffodil costumes and dragon-blazoned flags (for Wales) and formal kilts (for Scotland, obviously). I am in love with the way the afternoon light paints Arthur's seat a warm brick red, the way the Old College Tower lights up orange in the evening out my window, the way the air vent from Mother India Cafe - which sends delectable aromas redolent of curry coiling down our alley - makes me want curry all the time, and the way I no longer think twice when someone tells me it costs three "quid." I am also a little bit in love with the taste of "Banoffee tart" (bananas, toffee, tons of whipped cream and chocolate...) when shared with friends after too much Indian take-away and red wine, and with the warm feeling I got when an acquaintance told me my American accent, unlike most, did not make him want to punch me in the face. Considering he is a typically terse Glaswegian, that was actually quite a compliment.

How do I love thee, Edinburgh...

So, while yeah, of course I would love it if some guy (preferably with one of the aforementioned accents) decided to start reciting Keats to me, or quoting Neruda in passionate love letters ("I want to do to you what spring does to the cherry trees" ... sighhhh...) I don't really need that this year. Because sometimes life is bigger than love. And life, right now, is pretty damn wonderful.