Wearing the kilt in Scotland

[CeilidhDoc]

I can only apologise to CeilidhDoc for his experience, and I'm glad that he otherwise enjoyed his time in the town, as indeed I did. Possibly the best four years of my life.

Again, I appreciate the sentiment but there is really no need for an apology. I'm sure many of the offenders are older and wiser and behave differently now. High School age kids are not known for making the best decisions anywhere in the world, and sometimes poor decisions are violent with angry angst-ridden teens. This happens everywhere. So I do hope that nobody on the forum thinks I was going after making Scots feel bad or that my story was meant to be a commentary on Scotland as a whole. It is also not representative of my overall experience. I just wanted to mention it as a word of caution coming up to the election in September because charged political times in any nation can sometimes lead to increased risk. The story was meant as more of a "heads up" for people to, well, use their heads.

And as for enjoying St. Andrews, I enjoyed it quite thoroughly. Raisin Sunday (well, the whole weekend really) was an experience I will never forget. I know that a university town is seldom representative of what living in a country is really like, but I truly enjoyed my time there.

On one particularly wonderful occasion I was even taught how to properly pronounce my own last name. I'm going to date myself here, but back when one actually had to turn in a disposable camera to have film developed and then later go pick up the photos, I had done so and returned to get them. The man asked me my last name, and I pronounced "White" the way an American would (more like "Wite--hard i, minus the h sound). He rummaged through a bin and came back saying he had no photos for me. I explained that I had dropped them off days ago. He then asked me how I spelled my name. When I did so, he burst out laughing. He then said (with a wonderfully thick accent): " You have a fine Scottish name, but you've no idea how to pronounce it. In Scotland, your name is pronounced 'HWHite,' with an emphasis on the h. That's a different bin!"

On another occasion, I ordered a Guiness at a pub, and a Scot at the end of the bar overheard me. He then confirmed, somewhat surprised, that I was both an American, and that I was ordering Guiness rather than Budwiser. When I confirmed this, he paid for my pint, then insisted that he pay for a truly Scottish drink, and ordered me a glass of Laphroaig. This was the first glass of Single Malt Scotch I ever enjoyed and started a love affair with the drink (in moderation, of course) that remains with me to this day. We talked for hours at the pub that day, and I never saw him again.

I thanked both of these Scots profusely. Small experineces like these were more typical of my day to day life while in Scotland and many little things are memories I will cherish to the grave.

Slàinte