The Coast's Perplexing Perks

Why would anyone want to live in St Andrews? It’s in the middle of nowhere. If you want decent nightlife, then you have to trek God-knows-how-many miles into a city. It only has three major streets; you’ll go insane after walking them hundreds and thousands of times during your studies. There’s nothing to do; you’re essentially within a prison. Oh, and there’s a swarm of Americans around every corner.

The way some people talk about this town is something straight out of an H.P. Lovecraft novel, as if we’re stuck in some briny, peripheral backwater with antediluvian horrors lurking in the shadows and under the waves. Maybe there are some ichthyic monstrosities skulking just out of sight, but otherwise, the claim that St Andrews has to suffer just because it is located by the coast is purely laughable. Yes, we are a little out of the way. Yes, we are not as large nor as lively as a city, hence its nickname, ‘the Bubble’. Yes, our clubbing scene is quite dire. But being by the sea is an immutable fact: St Andrews will forever be located along the Fife coast. Just as the town and university are inextricably linked, so are the town and its location.

Even so, this fact does not have to be some horrid curse — rather, it is an opportunity. Being by the coast naturally allows us to enjoy a wide range of activities: swimming, surfing, beach bonfires, paddling, and sitting down to eat fish and chips while defending ourselves from seagulls. Despite the relatively cold water of the North Sea, there are innumerable things that the coast allows us to do. Of course, the things I’ve listed are arguably generic enough to apply to any coastal town. Yet, what would St Andrews be if we didn’t have our traditions such as the Gaudie, May Dip, or the (unfortunately disrupted) Pier Walk? If anything, we’d be more like any average city university, but not in a good way. The University of St Andrews without the coast would not be the University of St Andrews: our unique character would cease to exist. Experiences of the coast would be torn asunder — the sound of waves lapping ashore would turn to a deafening silence, the foreboding transience of the haar would dissipate, and the air would turn sickeningly static and dry. How boring, how vanilla this town would be without all that minutiae! 

Beneath that, there’s something else so enigmatically endearing about being along the coast. There’s something indescribable about the sea, a certain je ne sais quoi. Of course, that poses a problem for an article writer — one cannot be didactic and explain in clear terms what exactly this quality is. Regardless, that quality is there, I feel. Here I cannot help but explain it best by a suggestion: spend a decent amount of time at the coast, with no other distractions. Pick up some sea glass. Let yourself be soothed by the lapping waves. Observe rocks being washed ashore. Feel the air on your skin. Lose yourself in the almost hypnotic motions of the sea. Perhaps, then, you’ll feel that indescribable emotion. Wistfulness and melancholia almost cover it. Almost. Still, there’s nothing inherently depressing about it. Contentedness and comfort almost cover it, too. Almost.

The coast does not have to detract from the St Andrews experience. Rather, it is a benefit. Anytime you complain about the remoteness of the Fife coast, just keep in mind that it’s blessing us with a profoundly unique university experience. Give the coast a chance — let the ocean wash open your heart.

Illustration by Sarah Knight