Theories about lost gold

Over the Holidays I've been able to take advantage of the TiVo so that I could record obscure history documentaries that come on at odd hours in the day. The best shows tend to be on when no one is watching because the crapy shows that get high ratings, like Ice Road Truckers, come on in prime-time. I don't understand how modern day truckers in Alaska have anything to do with History. Furthermore, I don't understand why people who like history would like this show. Other documentaries are completely absurd and barely based in any fact, such as the UFO documentaries. Anyhow, there are the random History documentaries here and there that are descent. For instance, How the States Got Their Shape was really cool, especially when it explained why states like Kansas and Nebraska were shaped like rectangles or how Michigan got the Upper Peninsula instead of Toledo. I'm also a huge fan of How the Earth Was Made and Cities of the Underworld. All of these shows have been good to watch while I rummaged through internet job postings.

There was one documentary that got my attention more than others, Lost Gold of the Dark Ages on the National Geographic Channel. In September 2009, an English amateur metal detector enthusiast in Staffordshire found a massive gold hoard buried in a farm field that had been plowed over and over for hundreds of years. The artifacts date to around 700 AD and are Anglo-Saxon in origin. There were over 1,500 pieces of gold which weighed 5 kilograms (11 pounds). There was another 2.5 kilograms (5.5 pounds) of silver pieces. The total value of the find was over $5 million (USD). Most of the pieces were fragments of Christian artifacts that had been broken and mangled. Many items that had decorated swords, helmets, and other war equipment. However, the iron from the swords and other equipment was missing. Because the pieces had been warped and mangled, it appeared that someone had ripped the gold from the useful parts of military equipment so that they could reuse the weapons and armor.

Mangled pectoral cross from the gold hoard.

These types of crosses hung around the necks

and on the chests of bishops, abbots, and priests.

Scabbard stud used to tie the sword onto the soldier.

Each of the red pieces of the glass was individually

and expertly cut and laid into place so that each piece of

glass was an original. This demonstrates great skill.

Cloisonne strip that may have come from a book, saddle,

altar, or shield. The documentary suggested that it

could have been the extravagant binding for a decorated

Bible with elaborate images that are now lost.

Small sample of the pieces found.

Since the gold hoard has only recently been excavated, there are still many things that historians do not know about these items. For instance, no one is sure who buried the gold or why. It is easy to assume that the pieces had originated from military hardware Christians lost in battle. It is very likely that clergymen carried Christian items like crosses into battle the same way an army might carry a flag. Perhaps these Christian soldiers had fought against pagan raiding party. But why tear the gold off the iron and steel and bury it all?

The documentary gave a couple theories. First, the gold was a trophy hoard that an army had buried and then couldn't find; there may have been other bags of gold buried elsewhere that the army did find again. Second, someone stole the gold and buried it in a field to find it later but never returned. Third, the gold hoard could have been part of a forgotten pagan ritual we no longer know anything about.

Personally, I don't like the theory that it was part of a forgotten pagan ritual. It seems rather impractical to bury such a large amount of gold, even for religious reasons. Surely the pagans would have buried a much smaller amount of gold and kept the rest, especially if they were warring against Christian neighbors and could use the funds. I have my own theory about where the gold came from and why it was buried. If the gold does come from the spoils pagans gained from Christians in battle, then the pagan victors may not have been safe yet. They took the most militaristic parts of their spoils in order to use them immediately for protection against a counter attack. Just in case they would have to retreat after a counter attack, they buried the most valuable pieces together so that the Christian army would not be able to regain the hoard. Since we have found this hoard, we could assume that either the Christians won their counter attack and forced the pagans to move away from the hoard or that the pagans had to retreat for another reason. If the pagans had not been in trouble, they would not have buried the gold; they would have taken it home and used it for their own purposes. Also, the fact that the iron and steel is missing might suggest that these items, which would normally be less valuable than gold and silver, were more valuable to the pagans; hence, I think they were still under threat of a counter attack.

Of course, all of this is conjecture, but that's what I liked so much about this documentary. The viewer could think for himself or herself about what happened to the gold 1,300 years ago.

Re-enactors for the National Geographic documentary

demonstrate how the Anglo-Saxon raid would have appeared.

A re-enactor wears a costume based upon what

historians believe the gold pieces tell us about

the armor and weapons the Anglo-Saxon warriors used.

The Anglo-Saxon gold hoard is so massive that historians will not use what we know about this period of history to tell them about these pieces of gold. Instead, the historians will take what they learn from the artifacts to tell them about Anglo-Saxon history.

Baby's First iPhone

Though I did not take many photos on Christmas day, I did take a lot of videos of my 18-month old niece, Elizabeth. After she had opened all of her presents, she decided that playing with my video camera would be more fun than her new toys, so there's a bit of video on this post from her perspective. Elizabeth also played with my sister's iPhone. She pressed the button so that it would light up, put it to her ear, and say, "Hi" before speaking gibberish.

Videos from Christmas.

Westbound and Down

Rainwater that froze onto my car as I drove

just north of Birmingham, Alabama.

Never have I ever driven in sleet or winter weather, until I drove from DC to the Mississippi Gulf Coast. Whenever forecasters predicted winter weather conditions in the Deep South, I didn't bother to drive; places like Mississippi and Alabama don't keep salt or grit for the roads and bridges because it's a waste of money. It's cheaper to bunker down and endure the cold for a couple days once every couple of years. As I looked on weather maps at the snow approaching the Appalachia and Virginia, I decided that I had a small window of opportunity to get on the roads and out of Maryland/DC/Virginia before the roads got worse. My original path would have taken me along I-95 towards Richmond, Greensboro, Charlotte, and Atlanta, but my uncle told me that traffic would be frustrating in these cities. The longer route took me through the heart of the Appalachia on I-81 through Roanoke, Bristol, Knoxville, and Birmingham. These towns are much smaller and would have less traffic.

My alarm went off at 3:30 am so that I could get on the road by 4 am. My goal was to get to Mississippi in one day instead of getting a hotel somewhere along the way. A start after 4 am could mean I get caught in traffic while leaving Maryland through DC's Beltway. These roads were incredibly smooth even though the amount of traffic at this hour still surprised me. As the sunrise was over my left shoulder, I was already in the middle of the hill-like Appalachian mountains near Harrisonburg. Continuing south I listened to Oliver Twist on CD and saw the snow-covered terrain in southwestern Virginia and eastern Tennessee. I became more cautious as I saw the white stuff on the ground, but it appeared as if the storm had already passed through this area. The further south I went the more likely the warmer temperature would heat the precipitation into simple rain. Whenever crossing bridges I would look to see if I saw ice on them. Once I was near Knoxville the ground was brown and green again. My mom called me as I was near Chattanooga to tell me that there was a lot of freezing rain in northern Mississippi and Alabama; apparently, there had been some deaths. The sky around me looked clear, and there was little other choice than to keep going. As long as the Interstate was busy, the constant traffic and sunlight would keep the bridges warm enough to prevent ice buildup. Once I crossed the Alabama border, the weather became worse. For the first time ever I drove through white stuff, but only for a few minutes. Then the rain froze onto my car. I first noticed it on my windshield wipers. I turned the heat up and shot washer fluid constantly to keep my windshield and wipers from freezing. Everything south of Birmingham looked clear, so my goal was to keep going. Thankfully, I had no problems other than seeing ice all over my car as I drove. Once south of Birmingham and approaching Montgomery, it seemed silly to stop for the night since I was already so close; I kept driving until I was past Mobile and in Ocean Springs, Mississippi.

According to Google maps, my drive from Maryland to the Mississippi Gulf Coast should have taken 17.5 hours. I did it in 16 hours with only quick stops to buy gas and snacks. The Commonwealth of Virginia recently increased the speed limit from 65 to 70 mph, so maybe that helped me get home quicker than Google predicted. It was still an exhausting drive, but at least now I know I can do it.

For the next day or so, the weather along the roads I took kept getting worse. It looks like I got out of there in the nick of time. If I had left a day later, the snow would have pounded me all the way from Maryland to northern Alabama, though this weather was probably not enough to cause much alarm, especially since I had recently seen a bunch of snow in Scotland. My Wyoming friend would probably laugh at the weather. My concern wasn't so much what kind of precipitation I faced but whether or not the roads would be clear. Still, I don't foresee myself driving through what my Wyoming friend has described.

Peanut Butter Blossoms

Ingredients:

48 Hershey's Kisses

1/2 cup shortening

3/4 cup peanut butter

1/3 cup granulated sugar

1/3 cup packed light brown sugar

1 egg

2 tbs milk

1 tsp vanilla extract

1 1/2 cups all purpose flour

1 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp salt

Granulated sugar

Heat oven to 375º F. Remove wrappers from chocolate. Beat shortening and peanut butter in large bowl until well blended. Ad 1/3 cup granulated sugar and brown sugar; beat until fluffy. Add egg, milk, and vanilla; beat well. Stir together flour, baking soda, and salt; gradually beat into peanut butter mixture.

Shape dough into 1-inch balls. Roll in granulated sugar; place on un-greased cookie sheet. Bake 8-10 minutes or until lightly browned. Immediately press a chocolate into center of each cookie; cookie will crack around edges. Bake for 30 more seconds until chocolate melts slightly. Remove from cookie sheet to wire rack. Cool completely.

Mixing all the dry ingredients into a peanut butter paste.

Yours truly baking cookies.

The balls of peanut butter paste as they go into the oven.

The finished product after melting the chocolate a

little bit in the oven.

Welcome Christmas

Ol' friend and new friends in Virginia.

Before we took this photograph I asked,

"Hey y'all, how about we do a group photo?"

Ellen: "Great!" Charles: "Ellen, keep cooking."

Oddly, she actually listened to him;

hence, she's still cooking in the photo.

After flying back into the metro DC area a week later than I expected, one of my good ol' Mississippi friends who moved to DC invited me to a Christmas party at his new townhouse in northern Virginia. A couple of my new DC friends were also there. At first I was expecting a simple movie night, but it soon developed into an elaborate 'Welcome Christmas' party. Instead of grabbing a bite to eat at a restaurant, we went to the only Super Wal-Mart in the area to buy stuff to cook. The two other guys were in charge of buying stuff for dinner, and another friend and I were in charge of buying supplies for Christmas activities. We ended up buying stuff to bake cookies, which turned out to be more expensive than if we had all gone out to eat. We did buy supplies to build gingerbread houses and paint stockings, but we ended up not having enough time to do these activities. I returned that stuff the next day. Other than watching Fred Claus, we lit advent candles and read verses to celebrate the religious side of Christmas. Only a couple of us had seen or lit advent candles in church.

Tacos para todos.

Who wants to play mama bird/baby bird?

As many people know, Christmas originated as an ancient pagan festival on which the Romans celebrated Sol Invictus, their sun god. This day was significant for pre-Christian Europe because it was the shortest day of the year. Every day in autumn would get darker and darker until December 25. According to the pagans, the 'Unconquerable Sun' was born on this day. Just when the winter couldn't be any darker, colder, and more miserable, this god enters into the world to bring light. Starting in early January the days became longer and brighter. Christians did not regularly celebrate Christ's birth or early childhood for hundreds of years. The first example of a celebration about Christ's birth and nativity came in the third century. Around this time the Christians celebrated Christ's manifestation, or Epiphany, on January 6; today the Armenian Church and some other eastern churches still celebrates Christmas in January instead of December (the Russians eat cakes in the shape of the sun on this day, which has ancient pagan roots). On this day the Roman Christians commemorated not only the birth and visit of the magi but also His baptism and childhood; the emphasized events or verses would shift depending upon geography and time. The celebration of Christ's birth on December 25 and the magis' visit on January 6 became widespread 300 years later. According to the liturgical calender, churches are not supposed to sing Christmas music before December 25 but during the two weeks of Epiphany. As Christianity became the dominant European religion after the fall of the Roman Empire, the celebration of Christmas replaced the Festival of Sol Invictus. The overlap of dates symbolizes what the Christians wanted to tell the pagan world: the world has become dark without God; at the moment when the would could not become any darker or more miserable, when God's people had been conquered and separated from their Creator, God entered the world to bring light. Christ was most likely not born on December 25; since the shepherds would not have been out with their flocks at night during the winter, Christ may have been born in the spring or summer. Notwithstanding, the choice of overlapping the Christian holiday with a pagan one sent a message to the Romans and others (source: HarperCollins Bible Dictionary, Westminster Dictionary of Theological Terms).

Not only did the Christians adopt the pagan holiday's date, they also borrowed several of the traditions, including the lighting of the advent candles. Lights had special meaning for the pagans as the days became darker before the winter solstice, and the pagans of northern Europe used an evergreen wreath with candles in order to show that life continued in winter. Though it may have been used in the Middle Ages, the advent wreath may not have become common until the 1500s or the 1800s. It probably developed in Germany. During each Sunday in Advent, the four weeks before Christmas according to the liturgical calender, churches light a candle that commemorates the events around Christ's birth. Today, the meaning of the candles change from church to church and denomination to denomination. For instance, candles can represent Hope, Preparation, Joy, Love, and Christ (in that order). I don't like these symbols. Growing up, I learned that the candles represented Prophecy, Bethlehem, Shepherds, Angels, and Christ. I like those symbols more. The Christ candle is lit on Christmas day or eve. The third candle is almost always pink; the last one is white; the others are purple.

Lighting the advent candles during the Welcome Christmas party was really cool for me, especially since a bunch of the people there had never seen advent candles (a lot of Southern Baptist churches and other denominations that don't follow a liturgical calender don't use advent candles).

The breakfast nook at my friend's new townhouse the next morning

with an awesome view of a creek at the bottom of the hill.

I didn't feel like driving back to my uncle's house in Maryland

when we were finished with the party at 2 am, so I spent the night here.

Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses for honest men and bonie lasses

Stair Parish Church and Churchyard.

The original church was built in 1706, but the current

building replaced the old church in 1864.

My great-great-grandparents' grave is on the far left.

During my last day in Ayrshire, I went around with my family to some sites that have significance for my family and our history. It's not very often that this part of Scotland gets much snow, and it's even rarer for us to be here when it snows. Thus, we wanted to get photographs of these locations while we could. The first stop was the Stair Parish Church, just down the road from Keyshill Farm. Before my great-grandmother immigrated to the United States in 1911, she and her family had gone to church here. Her parents are buried in the churchyard, so this church is one of only a couple places I have visited that has my ancestors. This summer I visited some other graves, including in Muirkirk and Kilsyth, but the Stair Church has been a special location for my family. For instance, my uncle baptized my cousin in this churchyard over the grave of my cousin's namesake.

Stair Bridge over the River Ayr near the church.

This bridge dates to 1745 and is only one lane wide.

Cars still drive over it to get from East to West Ayrshire.

River Ayr, frozen over with ice and snow.

In 1450 William de Dalrymple acquired this narrow valley and surrounding lands along the River Ayr in order to build his own estate and Stair House, which has been the personal residence of aristocrats over the centuries. In 1653 James Dalrymple, First Viscount of Stair and influential Scottish lawyer, encourage this area's separation from nearby Ochiltree to create his own parish and hamlet. Thereafter, multiple earls and other Scottish aristocrats governed from and over Stair House.

After taking several photographs around the church and bridge, we went into Alloway, just outside of Ayr, to see the Brig o' Doon. For my mom this bridge is important because her grandmother (my great-grandmother mentioned above) had her photograph taken from the top of this bridge. The original late medieval bridge dates to sometime in the 1400s, and the current bridge dates to the 1700s. It is on the Bank of Scotland's £5 note along with a statue of Robert Burns. This bridge is an important local icon because Burns mentioned this bridge at the climax of his narrative poem, Tam o' Shanter. Written in 1790, this poem is one of the best examples of European narrative poetry. The story tells about a local Scot who spent too much time in the pub and had a disturbing vision on his way home; a host of witches and warlocks chased him across the River Doon, and Tam o' Shanter escaped over the Brig o' Doon because the damned could not cross the running water. However, Nan, the swiftest witch, grabbed the horse's tail as it galloped over the bridge's keystone, so the horse only had a stump on its rear. Here are the opening lines to the poem:

When chapmen billies leave the street,

And drouthy neibors, neibors meet, [thirsty neighbors]

As market days are wearing late,

An' folk begin to tak the gate;

While we sit bousing at the nappy [boozing strong ale]

And getting fou and unco happy,

We think na on the lang Scots miles,

The mosses, waters, slaps, and styles,

That lie between us and our hame, [home]

Where sits our sulky sullen dame.

Gathering her brows like gathering storm,

Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.

This truth fand honest Tam o' Shanter,

As he frae Ayr ae night did canter,

(Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses

For honest men and bonie lasses.)

O Tam! had'st thou but been sae wise,

As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advice!

She taulk thee weel thou was a skellum [she told you well you were a waster]

A blethering, blustering, drunken blellum;

That frae November till October,

Ae market-day thou was nae sober;

That ilka melder, wi' the miller, [During each milling period with the miller]

Thou sat as lang as thou had siller; [money]

That every naig was ca'd a shoe on, [For every horse he put a shoe on]

The smith and thee gat roaring fou on;

That at the Lord's house, even on Sunday,

Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till Monday.

She prophesised that late or soon

Thou would be found deep drown'd in Doon;

Or catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk,

By Alloway's auld haunted kirk.

Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet, [it makes me cry]

To think how mony counsels sweet,

How mony lengthen'd sage advices,

The husband frae the wife despises!

The the rest of the poem in both the original Scot and translated English, click here.

In St Andrews my favorite pub was Drouthy Neebors, and I had seen a copy of this poem framed on the wall, though I never actually took the time to read it. The pub's name comes from the poem's second line. That's cool.

When I first went to Scotland in 1993, the community had a parade reenacting this poem through Ayr and to the bridge. Tam o' Shanter left the pub on his horse while a long trail of the damned followed him as they went to the different locations mentioned in the poem.

The snow-covered Brig o' Doon.

[Image Deleted- See http://peregrinatorphoto.blogspot.com/]

The Brig o' Doon and the River Doon.

In 1759 Robert Burns was born at Burns Cottage in Alloway just a few minute's walk from this bridge, and the main street in between the bridge and cottage runs next to the Auld Kirk Alloway. Dating to 1516, the current structure replaced an older church, and this church was already a ruin by Burns' birth. Tam 'o Shanter encountered a satanic ritual in the church's haunted ruins after leaving the pub. Burns also buried his father and mother in the churchyard.

Auld Kirk Alloway

Retreat to Keyshill

Keyshill Farm, the main house.

After a couple extra days in Edinburgh, we made our way to the western side of Scotland to visit my cousins in Ayrshire, south of Glasgow. I have mentioned their farm in multiple blog posts, including this one and this one from last April and then this one, this one, and this one from December 2009. Since the snow storms were continuously hitting the eastern side of Scotland from Aberdeen to Edinburgh, everything over there had been slow to recover; Glasgow's airport had yet to close since the snow in the west had been lighter. Some friends had already taken the hour-long train ride from Edinburgh to Glasgow so that they could go ahead and fly and not wait for the Edinburgh airport to open back up. Going west seemed like a good idea for us, too.

Originally, we weren't going to see any of my cousins in Ayrshire because of time constraints. Even if they could have gone to St Andrews for the graduation ceremony, they would have been stuck in the snow while they had work to do on the farm. Therefore, it was nice to get to the other coast and see the cousins before I had to fly back home. I'm not sure when I'll see them again. Though the snow had been lighter around Glasgow and south of the town, the day after we arrived to Keyshill Farm near Stair brought a heavy snow that blanketed the entire area. News reports from the BBC said that the highways around Glasgow were a complete disaster. People waited for up to 7 hours or more on the freeway since the government hadn't done an adequate job of getting everything ready for the snow. There weren't enough police officers or fire fighters working the roadways to help passengers, who were stranded for hours. The Scottish Minister of Transport, Stewart Stevenson, said that the government response had been a top notch job. He later apologize for that assessment when everyone knew someone had botched up. He tried to blame the weather reporters for not forecasting a heavy snow so that the government could get the salt and grit onto the roads. The next day the BBC showed the forecasters predicting the heavy snow over and over again while playing the official's excuse for the horrible road conditions. The next couple of days it seemed as if everyone stayed put and didn't bother to risk getting stuck on the roads.

As I have said before, my great-grandmother worked at Keyshill Farm near Stair in Ayrshire before she immigrated to Pennsylvania, so my cousin's farm has special meaning for my family. It's always nice to see the countryside where my family has lived and still lives. The heavy snows and thick clouds covered up the Isle of Arran most of the time so that we couldn't see it mountainous skyline, but all the snow over the fields made nice photographs.

View of Keyshill Farm during sunset.

Road beside Keyshill Farm during sunset.

The house is on the left in the distance.

German Christmas Market

Ride next to the Scott Monument.

In several of my recent posts I've mentioned the German Christmas Market, which is an annual festival in central Edinburgh every year. There are tons of booths selling chocolates, gluhwein, nutcrackers, and traditional sausages. There's also an ice rink and a bunch of rides, including a ferris wheel. In this post I've uploaded some photos and a video from the festival.

Steak and haggis sandwich.

The man working the booth made the

haggis from his own special recipe.

Video of an entertainer at the market.

Last few goodbyes

Though the snow closed the airport and prevented a lot of friends and their families from attending graduation, it did keep a lot of friends in Scotland for a few more days so that I could spend more time with them. This extra time was really nice because everything was rushed while we were in St Andrews. There were a couple of friends I couldn't get a chance to see because our graduation ceremonies were at different times, so I sent them a facebook message while in Edinburgh; we met for coffee the morning before they flew out. Then I met another friend that afternoon who was also having trouble flying out. It was a nice day exploring different parts of Edinburgh with her, including the National Galleries, German Christmas Market, and a traditional pub, where I had stake ale pie for the first time. I'll miss being able to go out to the pub with friends.

Here are a few photos from the day:

Scott Monument

Corner of Princess Street and Hanover Street.

National Galleries of Scotland is on the left.

Yet another view of the castle in the snow.

Unexpected days in Edin-burrow

View outside my hotel window towards Princess Gardens

the morning I was supposed to leave Scotland.

The morning I was supposed to fly out of Scotland for DC, the snow was so thick outside my window that I could barely see to the other side of Princess Gardens. All the trains running north of the Firth of Forth, including those around Leuchars and St Andrews, weren't operating. The previous day we had talked about staying another day or two in St Andrews to see if the weather would clear up, so we were lucky to get out of there when we did. The train we took may have been the last train running south. At least in Edinburgh there was more we could do as we waited for the weather to clear up. I was exhausted, so I spent most of my time sitting in a cafe reading a book while Mom went window shopping. The city seemed dead since everyone who could was staying at home.

There are tons of British pronunciations that I have gotten used to hearing. Basil, garage, aluminum, and tomato are all different. I refuse to use these pronunciations, even when I get funny looks. However, I've tried to get better at pronouncing "Edinburgh" as the British pronounce it, which is almost like 'Edin-burrow.' I get awful looks whenever I accidently pronounce the 'g' in the word. It's rather odd, I think. I don't look at people funny when they say "New OrlEEns,' which sound just awful to my ears. It's like nails on a chalkboard.

Edinburgh Castle in the snow.

'Stuck' in Edinburgh

After waiting two hours exposed to the wind on a freezing train platform in Leuchars because the tiny station's waiting room was locked, I began to wonder why the Scots had to close the rail station in St Andrews back in the 1960s. Surely there are enough students and tourists who would like descent access between St Andrews and the rest of the world to make the investment worth their while. Instead of being able to walk to the rail station from a heated hotel or flat just before the train arrives, everyone has to figure out the bus tables and sit in the cold for half an hour or longer in Leuchars. On this particular day, my new wool cap was pulled all the way down so that it covered my neck and cheeks and almost my eyes. There was a golden 'Scotland' with a lion on the front, which I'm sure made me look like a genuine local. The sign over the platform kept changing its mind about how long we would have to wait before the train arrived. At first it was thirty minutes, but then it was forty and then sixty. The platform became more and more crowded. At least the train was running. The road bridge running over the Firth of Forth was closed so that the only easy access to Edinburgh was with the train. Once the train arrived, everyone shoved their way into the few remaining seats. It wasn't the most crowded train ride I had ever been on because I at least had some leg space by the door. As we moved further inland, the snow was deeper on each platform. The less-used stations had snow a couple feet deep on the platforms so that anyone using that station would have to plow their way through as soon as they stepped off the train. We finally made it to Edinburgh, but the station was a mess. I knew that we'd have to wait forever to get a taxi, and our hotel was just up the hill. I had walked it before with more luggage. It is a huge pain to walk it so that £5 for a taxi for two isn't that big of a deal, but I was tired of waiting in the cold. Unfortunately, the sidewalks were completely covered with snow and ice. Mom had trouble pulling her luggage. She eventually had me rush up with the bigger pieces of luggage to the hotel and then come back down to pull the small luggage up in a second round. I was cold, exhausted, and wet. Meanwhile, the weather back home in Mississippi was probably close to 75º F (23º C). The airport was closed as the snow kept coming in so that our flight was cancelled. We were stuck in Edinburgh for a couple more days. On this first night, we went walking around the block to take photographs.

Slippery stairs next to the hotel.

Man closing up his shop at the German Christmas Market

Train tracks with Edinburgh Castle

Snow covered car near the hotel

Steps leading to the Royal Mile

The difference between happy snow and unhappy snow

Taking photographs in the snow is a pain because all of the extra sunlight bounces off the snow messes with the light meter. Since I don't take many photographs in the snow, I always forget how I'm supposed to adjust the camera, so I usually take a few extra snaps at different shutter speeds so that I can decide which ones I like best later. Even though I took the extra shots in these photos from my last day in St Andrews, I still had to make several adjustments in iPhoto to get the color and light right.

While I was there, the snow around St Andrews was rarely what I called 'happy snow.' This type of snow is the fluffy stuff that floats gracefully towards the ground and is soft as it lands. When I think of Christmas movies, I think of happy snow. 'Unhappy snow' is sleet, more or less. This stuff pelted and stung me in the face from the first time I arrived back to town. It's still white and stuck, so at least I could get some more cool photos from this town.

Catholic church on the Scores.

View of St Andrews from West Sands.

[Image Deleted- see http://peregrinatorphoto.blogspot.com/]

18th hole on the Old Course,

where I saw Tiger Woods play this summer.

Flowers on North Street

St Andrews Castle,

where bishops and archbishops lived.

[Image Deleted- see http://peregrinatorphoto.blogspot.com/]

Storm moving behind the castle.

I spent the night on this beach waiting for the May Dip,

when we all ran into the North Sea at dawn.

It was the coldest night of the year for the water.

Bench where I would read scripture every night during sunset.

St Andrews Cathedral churchyard.

Unhappy snow that was pelting me in the face.

From Scholar to Master

The graduation ceremony for my Masters degree was on the morning of St Andrew's Day, November 30. Though most of Scotland does not celebrate this day as St Andrews does, it is supposed to be a national holiday just as St Patrick's Day is an Irish holiday. Last year I had attended a ceilidh in the street for the festival, which I mentioned in another blog post. This year I didn't attend all the festivities because I was already busy enough with the graduation ceremony. The ceremony itself was full of spectacle and pomp. It opened with a prayer in Latin. Next, the university president explained that according to some university charter, the graduates were supposed to be tapped on the head with a piece of John Knox's trousers. When she researched this claim in the university library, she found an original piece of cloth that had been the cap for a prominent doctor who had graduated from the university 500 years ago. In the university's tradition, she tapped each student on the head with this piece of cloth. Once the cloth touched our heads, we would turn from 'scholar' to 'master.' At this point the president would say in Latin that we had received our Masters degree. Meanwhile, a man would drape a hood over our shoulders as a symbol that we had graduated. After all the students had gone through this process, we listened as a sustainability professor talked to us about our futures and doing what we could for the world and environment. It was a rather depressing talk because she mentioned how we would have a tough time in the job market, and she reiterated that we needed 'practical hope,' the hope not in attaining what we pursue but hope in striving for our goals even if we fail. If I was a soldier preparing for battle, I would not want my general to give me this kind of speech. Then again, it was the more realistic vision. After the ceremony we paraded around St Salvator's Quad, which was freezing since most of us were dressed in suits and dresses that weren't exactly thick and warm. There was a bagpiper playing as we walked around the oldest section of the university, but we quickly left for the warmer pubs and coffee shops as soon as we had taken some photos in front of the iconic buildings. That afternoon we had a 'garden party' in a heated tent. This was my chance to say 'hello' and 'goodbye' to so many people whom I had known the previous year. The whole graduation experience was full of quick salutations to people I'm not sure when I'll see again. I'm glad I got to see everyone again and swap stories about our troubles finding work. Very few people have found stable jobs. At least I'm not the only one sending out tons of CVs without much or any response. A professor told me that I was lucky to be looking for work in the United States instead of Europe. Other than Germany, the British and mainland European economies seem to be tanking while the American economy is 'stabilizing.' Others at graduation talked about how having a Masters degree is actually hurting us because those with more education or experience aren't desirable for employers because they would have to pay us more. Still, at least I have a degree that will eventually help me, even if it is years from now.

The university president takes her place in the center

of the stage while professors stand behind her and

the men who brought in in the university scepters

bow in front of her. The six scepters are standing

on both sides of the president. I had seen one on

a regular basis at the Sunday worship services in

the university chapel. It was a silver statue of St Andrew.

I walk toward the university president with my gown

on and my hood in my hand.

Everyone had to kneel in front of the president so

that she could tap us on the head. It was as if

we were being knighted but without the sword.

Yours truly on the snow covered St Salvator's Quad

after receiving my diploma.