Christmas in St Andrews

After a week and a half in Scotland, I am tempted to write about the thousand small moments each day when I feel I am in a foreign place -- the weird predominance of perfume ads on television, the times when I have to ask for translations of words that are, in fact, already in English ("Whole. Whole? Sorry -- are you saying 'whole'? Oh -- hall. Got it."), the fact that you can't order your Starbucks coffee (or any drink, actually) in ounces and are forced to use Starbuck's ridiculous pseudo-Italian language.

Instead, I'd like to share one of those tremendous moments that makes the Scotland-by-the-sea fantasy all very real.

Last night, we attended the Christmas service at St. Salvator's Chapel, a soaring 550-yr-old hall used weekly for worship services but especially decked-out for the holiday season (really, if you don't read the rest of this post, click on the link and read about the Chapel). The choir, sharing the mezzanine level with the organ and dressed in red robes, led the ancient and tightly-wrapped St Andrews alumni through the old carols, between which administrators of the college and the church of Scotland read verses of the Christmas parable.

JFG and I were spellbound. The dripping candles, the somber adults and beaming children, the soprano's voice bouncing around the stone pillars, the feeling that you are so near to history that you are sitting where John Knox once preached . . . this is why we stumble through the small daily embarrassments of new jobs, new food, new currency.

The service was followed by mulled wine and mince pies in the hall across the green (upon which, I am assured, you can walk regardless of gender).

Our iPhone pictures don't do it justice, but they're below.

P.S. Fantasy somewhat diminished by yet another of those moments that yank us back to our outsider status -- as it turns out, there are multiple tunes to use when singing Hark the Herald Angels Sing and Oh Little Town of Bethlehem. And they sing O Come All Ye Faithful in Latin here. So there you are.