IT CERTAINLY IS THE MOST HAPPIEST TIME OF THE YEAR!!!!

Early this month I thought I would have a white, and a rather blue, Christmas! Sadly, looks like the weatherman up there decided to give the Scots in St Andrews a break this winter (they complained too much and too loudly about the harsh winters and the heavy snowfall they had for two consecutive years). Poor me! My patience is running thin! I can barely wait to be enchanted by the flakes as they swirl lazily, gracefully, beautifully, silently from the heavens and come to rest at my feet! Oh weatherman, don't keep me waiting! For now, I can only content myself with imagining the conversation snowman probably has with the weatherman in heaven....
Snowman: 'Oh Mr. W.! There's Flora, waiting for me to fall on her lashes and to run through her fingers! She's been asking every Scot she's met so far if it will snow! Please let me dance around her and let her have a merry time!'
Weatherman (I imagine him to be a guy with a shock of windblown hair as soft as the clouds that float sleepily high above, snow (yes SNOW) white beard, crimson cheeks and eyes azure by day and the colour of coal at night, and who distributes weather): 'Well, S. The Scots whined so much about the treacherous roads and the cold and the snow and the sleet! I don't think my sensitive ears can stand all the muttering and mumbling this year, too!'

Sigh! So much for a white Christmas, eh? Well, the good news is, I am not having a blue Christmas :)! So HOHOHO!!!

I am miles away from home, and, yes, I sorely miss putting up the Christmas tree and setting the crib with Carmel, two things I looked forward to every year with childlike glee! As I listen to Carols in my room, my heart doesn't swell with joy as much and I don't feel the intoxicating warmth that would traverse through my veins when I played Christmas Carols back home! Simply put, it is the little traditions that spring forth in each household, silly to an outsider, but laden with meaning and heaps of love for those within, that make Christmas the most special time of the year, and when one is not around to savour them, they cause a feeling of forlorn in the heart. I long to breakfast on kuswaar on Christmas morning. But Alas! that pleasure, too, is not to be mine this Christmas!

But then, hey, it is not that I get to celebrate Christmas in St Andrews every year! And, to be honest, Christmas at St Andrews has been thoroughly exciting in a way I never imagined it to be! Christmas has taken a whole new meaning this year! I notice it has shifted, imperceptibly, from 'me' to 'others', and it feels great!

My heart leapt for joy as I sang with gusto with other ladies, at Morrison's yesterday. A feeling of utmost joy washed over me as I held out a money box to collect money for a charity. I felt incredibly happy as I greeted generous donors and wished them a 'VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS'! Was I ashamed to be doing that? Far from it! I felt blessed! I am certain that, if I could, I would have gone on all evening; I enjoyed feeling the money box grow heavier and heavier, and though my arm ached, my heart grew lighter and lighter as I increasingly became aware of the true spirit of Christmas! That one hour was sublime!

 There's me with the ladies; I'm holding the money box!

My lunch with the Rotarians goes into my treasure chest, too. It is an afternoon to remember - letting squealing balloons fly across the room, swinging streamers with abandon, waering paper crowns, popping party poppers with men and women who have enviable jobs, but who shed their inhibitions and brought out the child in them just to embrace us International students into their fold and ensure we have a wonderful Christmas! I laughed and sang and ravenously tucked into thick slabs of turkey soaked in some delicious sauce! Yum!

Nothing, however, can beat the thrill of witnessing the quiet joy that descended on the face of the woman in a wheelchair while we sang on the corridors of the local hospital. She was surrounded by her family, and as we sang I could see she was transported back in time, to Christmases she celebrated in the past I reckon! Here we were singing Carols, and there she was reminiscing silently and humming softly as the magic of Christmas enveloped her and everyone on that floor of the hospital!

This Christmas, may we all realise that...

Christmas is magic, Christmas is love,
Christmas is hope sent to us from above!
Christmas is peace, Cristmas is joy,
Christmas is for every girl and boy!
Christmas is not white, Christmas is not blue,
Christmas is in every hue!
Christmas is not only for the black, Christmas is not only for the white,
It is for every soul that searches for the light!

My prayer this Christmas is that every child, every adult around the world experience the miracle of Christmas that took place 2000 years ago, that they know they are not alone, that they feel the love and peace of Baby Jesus! Reach out to others this Christmas. You don't have to fill stockings and exchange gaily-wrapped presents. A smile and a cheerful, warm greeting will suffice! Trust me! You do that, and Christmas will never be the same!

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Love,

Flora

Three months in St Andrews!

It is hard to believe it is three months since I first arrived in Scotland on 15 September, 2011! I often walk down the street (Market street, as it is called) I walked on that day, and look for an angel who stepped out of Martyr's Church and struck a conversation with me right away! I must have looked bewildered and hopelessly lost, and certainly not attractive after the long ride and the seemingly endless walk in France's Charles de Gaulle Airport! He led me down South Street and back again along Market Street to help me find the shop that would give me a free map of St Andrews! As I walked and chatted with Mr. Harrison (sadly, I've forgotten his firt name :( ), I silently wondered if I would ever be able to get round these streets on my own!! Today, I walk (and sometimes run) along these streets which are no longer alien to me, but have become, in so short a time, familiar, like the lines on the palms of my hands.

I feel proud that my invisible footprints have intermingled with those of thousands of other students (and, MAYBE, with those of HRH Prince William and HRH, Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge!) who have trudged or pranced (depending on the success of their assignments! :D) on these roads ever since the inception of the University. I have laughed (out loud), cried bitterly (I was disappointed with the result of an assignment), slid (I didn't fall!) on the thin sheet of frost that formed on the pavement (it was -1 last night), and run (to the library for printer credits) on these pavements! I am sure, if those pavements, if those streets, could talk, they would have the most amazing, most poignant, most hilarious, most ridiculous tales to tell!!!

I have learnt a lot about the rich history of this beautiful coastal town in the three months I have lived here. I would like to share it with you (I will make it brief, I promise!). To begin with, St Andrew, one of the disciples of Jesus, is the patron saint of Scotland (since the 10th century). Here's why. Legend has it that the bones (from the wrist and fingers, if I am correct) of this saint were brought to Scotland by a monk (Irish, though some say he was Greek) called St Rule. He was told in a dream to take the bones of St Andrew from Constantinople (where St Andrew was buried) to a distant place to protect them. This monk did as he was told, and set sail. En route to the distant shores, a storm blew (I now know what a storm is like; we've had two of them in the past week!) and the ship was wrecked in the Pictish settlement on the East Coast of Scotland, which came to be called St Andrews (well, it was distant enough for St Rule then)! Where those relics are today, I don't know! But this town was a pilgrim centre for centuries, because of the relics of St Andrew, and a tower, which lies among the ruins of the cathedral today, is named after St Rule! The Scottish flag bears the sign of St Andrews Cross (below), which is shaped like an X (it is called Saltire), because when St Andrew was crucified, he thought he was not worthy to die on a cross shaped like the one on which Christ was crucified!

The flag of Scotland

Cucifixion of St Andrew

St Rule's Tower

Another reason why St Andrew is the patron saint of Scotland is because on the eve of a battle, Óengus II, the King of Picts in the 9th century, prayed for divine intervention and promised that if they won the battle, he would make St Andrew the patron saint of Scotland. The next morning he saw clouds in the sky shaped like the cross of St Andrew, and with renewed faith and hope, they fought and won the battle (this is why the Scottish flag is blue with a white saltire).

There! Didn't I tell you it would be brief! Well, I hope you enjoyed your lesson in Scottish history as much as I enjoy delving into it :)!