It’s the Holiday Season…
Christmas might begin early in the U.S., but sorry Americans, Scotland has us beat. The Thistle’s Shopping Centre, St. Enoch’s, and virtually every public square I’ve come across put up holiday lights. Not yesterday. Not last week. The morning after Halloween. Too soon? Even the locals think so.
Last Saturday, I fell prey to the trend. I came back to Perth for the town’s Holiday Lights Festival, a night when all the decorations are “officially lit” for the season. My friend planned a day to put me right in the spirit — complete with a trip to a Polish goods store, explorations across the river, and plenty of ice skating.
Every time I mention the town of Perth, people scoff with wrinkled faces. “What’s in Perth? My ex is there” (No, seriously, ex-boyfriends and Perth seem to go hand-in-hand on this campus). I’ve realised the opposite is true. From modern water parks to skating rinks to grand theatres and musical venues, Perth has more to offer than the city of Stirling. Maybe the commitment to art, history, and entertainment has to do with the fact that the town was Scotland’s original Capitol.
I don’t think I’ve been ice skating in my life as much as I have in college. Every winter break, it seems, the opportunity arises. My friends and I get into Perth’s rink at a student discount, despite the cashier’s rant that we don’t have proper ID cards. I grab a pair of skates, the UK size 2, and hop onto the rink.
The venue is small for an indoor park. The rink is square, not the typical oval shape; flags from numerous countries hang from the ceiling. Most of the people inside are couples with toddlers or ambitious kids who practice figure-skating. Even my friend shows me some tricks she learned over the past three years.
For people who try not to fall on the ice, the rink provides mini penguins and snowmen to push for balance. I join a friend and grab my own snowman, push it around the rink a few times, and then return to ice skating in the centre. The music is quiet, but I pick up speed. The cold rush is enough of a thrill.
When I finally look at my phone, the clock says 3:40. The sun will set soon, and we haven’t been to the markets yet, so my friend takes us downtown to look around until dinner time. From German bier, to cashmere scarves, to wooden ornaments, I’m tempted to buy most everything. I know, however, plenty of Christmas markets are in my future.
My friend’s sister, who is just a year older than me, joins us just as the night comes alive. We meet her in a small park across the bridge, an area of trees and gardens which, every Chinese New Year, glows with fairy lights and crystal bulbs.
I instantly hit it off with the sister, and we wander around the city some more. There are ice sculptures, miniature horses, more alpacas, and baby owls. Children scream in the distance, carried and tossed by carnival rides. Live music plays on opposite ends of the city; two bands perform at once. The shops are open late, filled with mini Christmas trees and sleigh figurines and lifesize nutcrackers. On the street, a long parade filled with bagpipe players, dance troupes, vintage vehicles, and colorful costumes strolls through. It is magical. The holidays are here.
After a stop at Spoons for some fizzy Blue Lagoon pitchers, we stand on the bridge for another fireworks display. This one is closer, right across the river, and accompanied by the city lights. Snow is projected on the face of the big church; red and green and purple colors dance around the bridge and main street; bursts of fire blow into the air. Perth is a city for entertainment.
For the first time in the UK, I get to ride a car. The sister drives us to a 24-hour Starbucks, where I’m eager to use my points. I grab a festive Gingerbread Latte, which is brought to me in a large, warm glass mug. When I stand and wait for dinner, the barista looks at me as if I’m an idiot. He tells me to sit down. In the UK, Starbucks brings food to the table like a traditional restaurant.
Jamming to Polish tunes, we drive back downtown and hurry to the stage. James Arthur, a famous English artist who won the British X-Factor a few years ago, plays a free outside concert. I realize he passed me during the parade, close enough to make eye contact, although he never saw my wave. He performed both original songs and famous Christmas melodies. Most magical were the songs I’ve kept on my Spotify playlists since the summer; until tonight, I didn’t know they were his. To stand and hear him live, for free, is a gift.
It is freezing outside. Without my ear muffs and gloves, I might not be able to feel my limbs. We hurry back to the train station, and I hop inside the cosy carriage the instant it arrives. In the dark ride home, I fight sleep, scrolling through the photographs of the lights and bands and fireworks.
For the first time since my trip to Glasgow, I feel at peace.
