Sydney Vickars

Sydney came from Canada studied an undergraduate programme in the School of Humanities

I wasn't Canadian until I came to University here in Dundee. I mean, I was – on paper. But in a country that is essentially filled with immigrants – some very old and some very new – it seems incredibly difficult to qualify any so-called Canadian-ness.

At home we are taught that being multicultural is to be a proud Canadian and so we are encouraged to celebrate our heritage and our ancestry – wherever in this world that we are "from". So, for all practical purposes, I was British. My mum was born here just outside of Glasgow and somewhere along the line, my dad's family originated from here as well. At school when we would have multicultural events, I would bring shortbread and for those occasions that we were asked to wear traditional clothing, a kilt always sat in the back of my closet. Last March, when I received my British passport in the mail, I thought I had it made. I was officially British.

Sydney (far right) speaking at the Rotary Club lunch

It wasn't until I arrived here in August that I discovered that this really was not the case. I am not British and the culture I had claimed as my own for so long was not the culture I found myself immersed in.

Why, there were a million things I had to learn. I know that coming from Canada, a place that was birthed out of the British Commonwealth, it may not seem like such a drastic change to move across an ocean. But it was, it definitely was. I know that all of the things I have experienced in the past seven months are things that every traveller to the UK territory experiences, to some extent or another.

For instance, in Scotland, traffic does not stop for you. You must always stop for it. Or you get into a huge big embarrassing honking fight with the driver behind the wheel – which I may add, is on quite the wrong side of the vehicle. This leaves you in a very vulnerable position – trying to defend your pedestrian-hood to an empty seat. I can't count the number of times that I found myself wondering why nobody seemed to be driving the car as I look into what I know to be the driver's seat and see no one.

Also in Scotland, when you put milk and sugar into your tea, you are not likely to generate the kind of looks you would if you were to do it overly-health conscious Vancouver. I have grown up putting milk and sugar into my tea, much to my dentist's dismay and have come to the conclusion that it is the only way to fully enjoy the beverage. So thank you Britain, for accepting these sugar-prone taste buds of mine.

I have never seen a grocery clerk allowed to sit on a chair before. As a cashier myself, my co-workers and I have been silently advocating for this right for years. Having to stand up for an entire eight hour shift really makes me appreciate this comfort you have afforded your shop workers.

Speaking of grocery stores, I have never seen such a vast arrangement of pre-cooked meals. As a student, this makes going to the grocery store an absolute dream! You can get all your food groups (and then some) packed into a little box and then all you have to do is stick it into the microwave once you get home. It's miraculous!

And there's a whole other story to be told for the fact that you have an entire aisle dedicated to biscuits.

I thought I knew the English language until I came to Scotland. I study English, I read literature day in and day out for my degree and have never been told I pronounced something wrong until I came here. Sometimes I'll be sitting in a restaurant or at a bar and someone will come up and say something to me and I will have no idea what they are saying. I thought my Gran had a Scottish accent. As it turns out, she had only the very remnants of one and so misguided me into thinking I could claim fluency in the Scottish dialect.

This was furthered by the course I took in Scottish literature last semester. While Robert Burns and his using the Scots language has always been challenging for me, the rest of my colleagues having grown up studying him and being able to read with the appropriate accent seemed to have no problem mastering his poetry. I spent hours in one-on-one sessions with my tutor reciting to the best of my ability "To a Mouse" only to be told I was pronouncing things, "barely sufficiently."

There are more doors at the University of Dundee than there are in the entirety of Canada I am sure. And this is true of all of the UK. I mean, everywhere I turn there is another Fire Door. And it's not just that there are so many, it's that there are all really heavy and are required to be "Kept Closed" at all times.

And this place is beautiful. Despite all that people say about Dundee, I think it is beautiful. I have the greatest view from my room and there's nothing like waking up to the stillness of the Tay in the early morning or taking the bus into St. Andrews and walking along the beach wrapped up in scarves and gloves. I have been up north into the Highlands and over to the Skye and I can appreciate how so many great minds could have originated out of such a beautiful country.

I met more friends in my first week here than I think I have in my entire life. They are from all over the world. These are the people that have made Dundee what it is for me. It's a place of learning but it is more than that.

It's a place where I can wake up in the middle of the night and hear people yell-singing "Small Town Girl"... even, and especially, on a Tuesday.

It's a place where I can be so homesick that I can't hold back the tears and as soon as I open the door, there is a hug waiting for me.

It's a place where I can sit all day in the library and never get anything done.

It's a place where there's always someone to help no matter what the issue, and where professors are willing to sit with me until I fully understand every aspect of modernism in The Time Machine.

It's a place where there is always a place open to get a coffee or a beer.

It's a place where time goes so quickly and I stand here today with seven months under my belt and only 79 days left until I land back at home.

But somehow I know I have changed and I have this place to thank. Dundee has opened my eyes and I have learned so much about not only myself but life in general: how to conserve not only toilet paper but every moment and live them out the best way I know how. In so far as I will be glad to be home at the end of May, a part of me will always stay here, and Dundee and the experiences it has given me will never leave me.