Chicken Soup for the Soul

Although autumn has not fully come to an end yet, let alone in Edinburgh, where certain trees still bear their leaves in February, the Christmas Markets on Princes Street are ready to welcome anyone and everyone with a mug of hot chocolate or mulled wine as early as November 16th. What’s more, they’ve come to boast with a Ferris Wheel that you could not possibly oversee even if you tried. I have to admit, though, it’s not all that easy to get into the Christmas mood despite all this twinkling beauty, when the weather feels like a summer breeze one day and mid-January frost on the next, exam season is slowly knocking on our doors and essay deadlines? Don’t even get me started.

My second year studying Psychology & Sociology brought along much change, but then again, I’ve had a lot of days thanks to which I’ve realised that Edinburgh has put itself on the list of places I call home. That might just be because, unlike last year, I no longer expect the buses to come on time or that the online timetables will say the same thing as the ones on the bus stop. Or maybe it’s because when customers order a pint of Tennent’s at work, I finally know that they would just like some beer.

To return to my initial point, my actual degree itself is in bloom and, apart from a bit of blood and tears shed from the pinchy thorns, it smells of roses. Compared to first year, students at tutorials no longer seem to be as shy as they used to, giving us the chance for endless debates, be it about the nature, consequence and social psychology of protest in our Sociology tutorials or the potential clinical diagnosis of patients with various mental disorders in Psychology. As a result of gaining most of the necessary background knowledge in the subject area in first year, lectures, labs and readings have now become much more focused on theory from specific areas, which gives us a small taster for the complementary modules that will be on offer for us to choose from in third year alongside our degree.

Seen as I feel I have become confident and found a somewhat stable university-life routine only very recently and I still vividly remember the anxiety, which creeps up on you to slowly munch on your insides when you first transfer, I decided to become a Peer Mentor for the first year students, who have just now begun fighting this battle. Important to note, though, there are professors who are our actual Personal Tutors, but they often fail to even remember students’ names, so expecting their support in these rough times could be compared to expecting that the cheese in your Big Mac has indeed seen a cow in its life. It hasn’t. As older students, we therefore volunteer to spend time with our mentees, offer our unconditional support to facilitate a smooth transition into their new lives as well as a vast supply of tips on anything between academic issues, personal problems and the best recipes containing broccoli. You do get that quite cheap around here.

And my homemade chicken soup for the soul? The decision to take up dancing again. Little did I know, however, that after the very first rehearsal I would receive an email regarding an audition for the Street Dance competition team. I pulled on a pair of baggy sweats and trainers, nailed the audition and now here I am, ecstatic to be able to live and share the joy that dancing brings with the rest of the team. Not only do the rehearsals fill me up with pure happiness, but also an extreme degree of impatience because I cannot wait until we’re done with the whole choreography so we can go off and represent the Edinburgh dance society at competitions across various towns and cities in the UK.

So much has happened since September that between my studies, volunteering, dancing and two part-time jobs, I’ve barely had the chance to feel nostalgic about home, the one that remains at the top of my list even today. Nonetheless, there’s something that happens every single day, reminding me just how many things life in Edinburgh has granted me to experience, and I fall in love with the place more and more each day. It’s time to start enjoying them before they too become nothing but a faded cloud of nostalgia. I am grateful. Deeply.

Days might slowly be getting short and drowsy, but they’re overflowing with strange delight and curiosity. And those shine far brighter than vanilla-scented candles ever will.