Small Feet

Oxford is sort of the be-all end-all of college towns -- it is literally a town made up of colleges. It was home to a few of my most favorite writers and thinkers: J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. It's a mecca for academics, museum-lovers, and Harry Potter fans. In some ways, visiting Oxford was like coming home.  Stone buildings like churches and castles and the different parts of Hogwarts, are scattered throughout the town. So are museums -- I visited the Pitt Rivers Museum of anthropology, and the Museum of Natural History .  There's also Magdalen College, academic home of Lewis, Tolkien, and many others.  And of course, the Eagle and Child, affectionately known as the 'Bird and Baby' by its frequent customers, the Inklings.  The literary magic and academic development of Oxford oozes out of the very stones. You can hardly help wanting to pour yourself out into a novel or play, history or theorem. Visiting it was a sort of pilgrima...

I've attended my last lecture and I'm headed off to a series of new places over the next few weeks before I begin studying for exams. As I head off to different destinations within Scotland and beyond, I'm carrying as little as possible. What's really important to bring with you when the priority is new experiences rather than comfort? Is it possible to actually be more comfortable with less? I'll be writing more about this soon.  I'm carrying this  Fjallraven Totepack No. 1  (pictured) as my primary bag for my travels. It's a 14L bag with shoulder straps that convert to backpack straps. It's supremely comfortable and durable (waterproof!), sleek, and it has a cute fox on it. I'm also carrying this vintage J. Jill leather purse, which is big enough to hold a book, my beloved  Klean Kanteen , and a few other bits and bobs to use throughout the day.  I have two pairs of shoes, my  Blundstone  ankle boots and  Superga  sneakers,...

A side effect of being alone is, of course, that sometimes you don't want to be by yourself. In such cases, I'm accustomed to calling a friend or simply yelling down the hall to a roommate.   Here, in a city of a million people, it's not quite as simple. Cultivating a friendship anywhere takes time and energy, as well as a willingness to introduce oneself, ask questions, and make awkward small talk about the weather or the ceilidh dance. I drew a deep breath when I realized that I was surrounded by other students who also felt a wild relief when someone struck up a conversation or thrust a smartphone towards them, awaiting a Facebook handle or phone number. In such a climate, I've realized, friendship tends to snowball in a rather beautiful way. Desperate for companionship, stories we can tell our children, and pristine Instagram photos, we find ourselves wandering streets we barely know with a happy band of ten or more, pushing tables and bodies together in our deli...

I've never been one for solitude. It's not that I don't like myself -- on the contrary, spending time alone isn't distasteful to me at all. Rather (and this is in no way a complaint), I have been blessed with abundant family, friends and loved ones whose company often seems more exciting to a lone stroll or foray into a cafe. Coming to Glasgow alone has changed this. The only person I know in this whole city is with me constantly -- I can't avoid spending time alone. In the week I've been here, I have walked miles on cobbled streets and sidewalks that are cracked patchworks of pavements, wandered into charity shops, cafes, pubs, museums, bookshops, grocery stores.... As someone who talks a lot, days spent by myself are vaguely jarring. Words that would generally spill out into the chilly air have no ear to catch them, and so they remain to bounce around as unarticulated thoughts and observations in my mind. My solitude makes every exchange an important par...