Glorious St. Andrean Days

The last two days were the most beautiful, glorious days I've seen since I've been here!  A high of 72, bright and sunny, with a slight breeze!  Now, St. Andrews is generally a rather dry place--meaning that it doesn't rain here as often as in the rest of Scotland!  We often joke that St. Andrews has its own special weather atmosphere. But we certainly get our fair share of overcast skies and more than our fair share of gusty, chilly winds.  So my friends and I have been taking advantage of these fleeting glory days!

Monday I decided to eat my lunch at my favorite spot in town.  You guessed it.  The Cathedral!  I even managed to get some actual writing done on my dissertation... 500 words... before my friend Adam showed up!  We decided it was too gorgeous of a day to spend entirely doing school work.  So we nipped into the Cathedral visitors centre, got two tokens to go up St. Rule's Tower, and checked out the view from the top.  We then headed out to the Pier, and Deans Court.  It was a spectacular way to spend an afternoon! (For the record, we both hit the books again that evening!)

Yesterday Lisa, Faith, and I decided to meet up for lunch at a sidewalk cafe, and then headed off to -- surprise, surprise -- the Cathedral.  We stretched out in the sun a bit, and then decided to have some fun with my camera...  

Enjoy the fruits of our, er, labors (or lack-there-of)!   

"The Reik of Maister Patrik Hammyltoun"

Well, it is that time again!  Time for me to once again scale the ever growing, ever daunting, Mountain of Books.  Yesterday I received the green light from my supervisor to actually start writing my dissertation.  I've spent some time reading and researching practically every day this summer, and now it is time to put my thoughts and research to paper.  Roger (my supervisor) is pretty interested in my topic, which is always a good thing!  But "the proof will be in the pudding", as they say! (So don't be surprised if you don't hear from me for a while... I'll be "dissertating" until August 31st!)

I'm in the library just now doing some reading on Patrick Hamilton, the first martyr of the Scottish Reformation. As I sit here reading about his trial and execution, I can look out the window and see the spot where he was burned at the stake for believing in "justification by faith alone".

A brilliant student here at the University, Patrick was brought to trial for teaching 

the core theology of the Reformation which stated that man can do nothing to gain his own salvation.  It is only belief in the life, death, and resurrection of Christ that can rescue the soul.  After he was found guilty of heresy, he was immediately taken to the stake, which was set up outside of St. Salvator's College, in front of the Tower.  (The spot is marked today by a PH in the cobblestones). The execution, which took place on 29 February 1528, was slow and horrific.  The wood was damp and the gunpowder, which was used as a fire-starter, burned Patrick but failed to ignite the kindling.  While "normal" burnings would last about an hour, with the victim dying of suffocation before being burned, Patrick Hamilton suffered for more than six hours.  One observer claimed that he "was more roasted than burned." 

He was 23 years old. 

St. Andrews lore claims that the face visible in the stones a third of the way up St. Salvator's Tower is that of Patrick Hamilton, looking out over the place of his martyrdom.

Regardless of the lore, his death was a turning point.  As one historian writes, "his courage, brilliance, and gentleness provided an inspiration and model."  John Lindsay, a witness to the martyrdom, was correct when he forsaw that, "the reek of Master Patrick Hamilton has infected as many as it blew upon." Patrick Hamilton's death sparked a Reformation in Scotland.

Can you imagine, being 23 years old and holding so tightly to your convictions that you are willing to die for them?  Can you imagine being 33, 43, 53, or 63?  

A Good Ol' Fashioned American 4th...In Britain.

My friends and I celebrated 232 years of American Independence from Britain... in Britain. We realized the irony. Particularly when the Colonials were outnumbered by Commonwealthers (and former Commonwealthers)!   Correction, the American's celebrated Independence Day and our British and former-Commonwealth friends celebrated "When-The-Americans-Ceased-To-Be-Our-Problem Day"!

We had a good old fashioned American cookout in my friend Jo's backyard.  So what if the ruins of a 14th century Scottish Cathedral were visible on one side, and part of a 12th century chapel was built into another garden wall!  And the traditional baseball game was replaced by a football (soccer) match!  But the weather, which had been threatening to be rotten behaved itself, and Andy, our buddy from Tennessee fixed the best burgers we've eaten since we've been here!  I made baked beans and an apple pie.  Jo made chocolate chip cookies which were the hit of the party! (They don't have REAL cookies here!) Our friends chipped in with potato salad, strawberry shortcake, coleslaw, fruit salad, and more! We even managed to find some real watermelons!  They were tiny, and grossly overpriced, but its not the Fourth without them!  It was quite a spread. One that Uncle Sam would be proud of!

 

I missed the parade and fireworks we have back home, but who else had the opportunity to celebrate America's Birthday with 7 Americans, a Canadian, 2 Englishmen and an English woman, 2 South Africans, 3 Irishmen and an Irishwoman, a Chinese guy, and a Spaniard?  That's not an opportunity that presents itself every July 4th!

(To see pictures from our International 4th of July, click on the title of this post!)

The Haar

It comes off of the North Sea, making its way through the Cathedral ruins, to stroll through the streets.  The Haar.  A misty, chilly sea breeze that swirls and rolls down South Street like it is taking a stroll, popping into shops to do its afternoon shopping.  Rolling in off the sea, dissolving into small knots, which float their way down streets and up closes.  You can observe one patch coming, watch it pass over and around (and through) you, continuing, unobstructed, up the street. 

The first time I ever saw the Haar, I was sitting in the library.  I looked up from my books on a lovely sunny day to see wisps of what I assumed to be smoke curling and swirling their way up North Street.  I initially thought there was a fire down the street, until the mists thickened and a cloud rolled through, engulfing St. Salvators, the library, and my view of the street.  

The chilly haze of the Haar settles in around town on otherwise sunny days, lasting but a few hours at most, to be eventually burned off by the sun or blown away by the sea breezes.  It is not an all-covering blanket.  It settles here and there, like patches of melting snow.  One can turn down one bright street into a pedestrian lane and encounter a cool mist that paused there, for a rest, on its journey from the Cathedral to the West Port.