Although certainly crawling with tourists and golf enthusiasts, St. Andrews felt surprisingly calm and warm, even - dare I say - romantic. The coastline and side-streets made for quick and frequent diversions from the main flow of bodies, and the stage of the trip that I was preemptively least keen on became one of the most relaxing and enjoyable. We were not able to fit in a round of golf (or even catch much of a glimpse of St. Andrew's famous courses), but taking in the atmosphere from the peripheral beaches turned out to be worth the stop.
We have no idea who this couple is, but isn't it romantic?
And what could be more romantic (in the broader sense of the term) than centuries-old ruins of castles and cathedrals - fragments of splendors past - with the sea for a backdrop?
...than a sunset walk along the tide pools?
...or a solitary, reflective amble?
Yes, who knew that St. Andrews was the Venice of Scotland?
...Venice with cows. For the remainder of our trip with Britt's parents, Jack would be staying on a farm near St. Andrews - home to a friend from IU - where he loved nothing more than to lie in the grass, as the wind passed through his wispy dog hair, and watch the cows:
The agrarian outskirts of St. Andrews were also replete with romantic imagery. Like walks through fields of gold:
... and a ca. 2,000 year-old Druid coronation stone perched high above a tumbling stream. We visited this site at late twilight, sadly without a camera to document our eery walk through the woods, past carved stones and the cheap plastic relics left by neo-pagan, Blair Witch-watching youth.
We have no idea who this couple is, but isn't it romantic?
And what could be more romantic (in the broader sense of the term) than centuries-old ruins of castles and cathedrals - fragments of splendors past - with the sea for a backdrop?
...than a sunset walk along the tide pools?
...or a solitary, reflective amble?
Yes, who knew that St. Andrews was the Venice of Scotland?
...Venice with cows. For the remainder of our trip with Britt's parents, Jack would be staying on a farm near St. Andrews - home to a friend from IU - where he loved nothing more than to lie in the grass, as the wind passed through his wispy dog hair, and watch the cows:
The agrarian outskirts of St. Andrews were also replete with romantic imagery. Like walks through fields of gold:
... and a ca. 2,000 year-old Druid coronation stone perched high above a tumbling stream. We visited this site at late twilight, sadly without a camera to document our eery walk through the woods, past carved stones and the cheap plastic relics left by neo-pagan, Blair Witch-watching youth.
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