When I announced my study abroad plans, everyone had one question for me, “Are you going to try haggis?” After that, they usually had another question, “Why Edinburgh?” This is where things got tricky. I developed a variety of answers, each tailored to a specific audience. To my study abroad coordinator, I rambled on about my desire to immerse myself in Edinburgh’s rich literary heritage. To my school friends, I reeled off my scheme to marry a Scotsman, preferably Ewan McGregor circa 2001, and have children with charming accents. What I didn’t say was that Edinburgh was my fallback choice; my home university didn’t offer an exchange programme with Hogwarts. When I shut my eyes, however, I couldn’t help imagining myself in a class full of kilted gingers, listening to a lecture by Professor McGonagall while drinking whiskey by the gallon. 

I knew when I applied here my image of Scotland couldn’t be entirely accurate. I had consumed so many stereotypes that I knew as little about Scotland’s reality as I did about Uzbekistan’s. In my first three weeks in Edinburgh, I tried to sort out reality from myth. As expected, many of my preconceptions have proved utterly wrong. I now know only tourists wear kilts on ordinary occasions, the actress who plays McGonagall is actually English, and real Scottish whisky has no E.In some ways I’ve been most surprised by how Scotland has conformed to my expectations. The laxity of Europe’s alcohol laws is a cliché in the States, but I didn’t think drinking could be as standard an activity here as pop culture made it seem. I changed my mind when I met the freshmen in my hall, most of whom can drink me under the table. However, as most of them can drink legally they don’t seem to get the same illicit thrill from alcohol as the freshmen back home. This in turn means I’m less likely to find puddles of vomit outside my door from overzealous, underexperienced drinkers – a welcome change from home.

The persistence of certain Scottish traditions has surprised me. When people at home asked if I was going to try haggis, I laughed it off, because I thought the notion of Scots eating haggis was another American stereotype. I assumed it would be a novelty food for tourists, and when I saw it on the shelf in cans, I almost dropped my shopping basket. It is often the smallest differences that result in the greatest culture shock, because they tend to be the things you don’t see coming or even pick up on. I spent my first 15 minutes on campus wondering why Scottish bikers were so rude, and then someone pointed out I was walking in the bike lane. At my home university, not enough people ride bikes to make a bike lane practical. Moments like that make me feel like an ignorant American, which is what I’m desperately trying not to be.

If there’s one thing I really want to take away from my study abroad experience, it is greater insight into how the norms I take for granted might differ in other countries. I believe I’m acquiring it, but sometimes the acquisition process is embarrassing.I’ve been grateful to all the Scots who’ve patiently responded to my questions about how their country actually works, and when I go home in December, I’m looking forward to being able to say to the people who jokingly asked if I tried haggis, "Yes, I did!"