Scottish Highlands: My Therapy in Tweed

Living in Aberdeen meant the Highlands were my backyard. Every stressed-out exam season, every dissertation deadline crisis, every moment when I questioned my life choices – the answer was always the same: drive north until you find your sanity again.

The moody weather, dramatic landscapes, and cozy pubs became my therapy. In four years at Aberdeen, I probably spent more money on Highland escapes than textbooks – and honestly? Best investment ever.

---

When Aberdeen Felt Too Small

Picture this: me, second year biomedical sciences, sitting in the Sir Duncan Rice Library at 2 AM, surrounded by biochemistry textbooks and the growing realization that I hadn't seen sunlight in three days. That's when I discovered the magic of spontaneous Highland therapy sessions.

Aberdeen is beautiful, don't get me wrong. The granite architecture, the North Sea coastline, the surprisingly decent nightlife for a university town. But sometimes you need space – the kind of space that only the Scottish Highlands can provide.

My first Highland escape happened during first year exams. I borrowed my flatmate's ancient Ford Fiesta (RIP, Emma's car), loaded it with shortbread, irn-bru, and questionable road trip music, and just... drove north until the buildings disappeared.

Glen Coe: Where I Learned to Love Rain

My first glimpse of Glen Coe was through horizontal rain and car windows that desperately needed replacement. But even through the Scottish weather (which, let's be honest, is more of a lifestyle than weather), the landscape was breathtaking.

Those dramatic peaks, the moody lochs, the sense that you're driving through Middle Earth – Glen Coe became my go-to destination for when university life felt too intense.

• What I expected: Peaceful Highland drives

• What I got: Rain, more rain, and sheep with attitude

• What I discovered: There's beauty in the chaos

• What I learned: Waterproof everything is not a suggestion

That first pub lunch at the Clachaig Inn, sitting by the fire in completely soaked hiking gear, eating the best cullen skink of my life – that's when I realized the Highlands weren't just scenery. They were home.

---

Ben Nevis: The Mountain That Humbled Me

Let's talk about the time I decided to climb Ben Nevis during reading week. Brilliant idea, Nikol. What could go wrong with a Bulgarian biomedical student attempting the UK's highest peak in March?

Everything. Everything could go wrong.

The weather forecast said "partly cloudy." What it meant was "horizontal snow, zero visibility, and winds that will question your life choices." But I was determined. I had my Aberdeen University hoodie (because apparently I thought university merchandise provided weather protection), a thermos of coffee, and the overconfidence of a 20-year-old.

Six hours later, standing at the summit in conditions that can only be described as "apocalyptic," I understood why people become addicted to mountaineering. The pain, the cold, the moment when you realize you're stronger than you thought – it's intoxicating.

Coming down was worse than going up. My legs turned to jelly, I questioned every decision that led me to this moment, and I promised myself I'd never do anything this stupid again.

I was back three weeks later.

The Cairngorms: My Study Break Sanctuary

When Ben Nevis felt too ambitious (or when I had essays due), the Cairngorms became my compromise. Close enough to Aberdeen for day trips, dramatic enough to reset my perspective on whatever academic crisis I was currently navigating.

Aviemore became my second home. That little Highland town with its outdoorsy vibe and inexplicably good coffee shops was where I learned that sometimes you need to get lost in nature to find yourself in books.

1. The Lairig Ghru - Where I discovered my hiking legs

2. Loch Morlich - Swimming in Scottish lochs (briefly)

3. Cairn Gorm - Funicular railway for the win

4. Rothiemurchus Forest - Ancient Caledonian pine perfection

I have a theory that every difficult concept in biomedical sciences becomes clearer when you're sitting beside a Highland loch, watching clouds roll over ancient mountains. Biochemical pathways make more sense with a view of Cairn Gorm.

---

Isle of Skye: The Epic Road Trip

Third year, post-exam celebration: my friends and I decided to drive to the Isle of Skye. Four sleep-deprived students, one rental car, and the optimistic belief that we could handle the most dramatic landscape in Scotland.

The drive from Aberdeen to Skye is five hours of increasingly spectacular scenery. By the time we reached the Skye Bridge, we'd already stopped seventeen times to take photos that couldn't possibly capture what we were seeing.

Portree was our base camp – this impossibly pretty harbor town that looks like it was designed by someone with excellent taste and a thing for dramatic backdrops. We stayed in a B&B run by a couple who treated us like their temporarily confused grandchildren.

The Old Man of Storr Adventure

Hiking to the Old Man of Storr was supposed to be a gentle morning walk. What it actually was: a vertical scramble up what appeared to be Middle Earth's practice course for aspiring wizards.

But reaching the top – standing among those ancient rock formations, looking out over the Sound of Raasay – was one of those moments that makes you understand why people write terrible poetry about landscapes.

• 🏔️ Old Man of Storr - Vertical challenge worth every step

• 🌊 Kilt Rock and Mealt Falls - Nature showing off

• 🏰 Dunvegan Castle - 800 years of Scottish history

• 🥃 Talisker Distillery - Education in liquid form

That night in the Sligachan Hotel, sharing whisky and terrible jokes with other hikers, I realized something: this is what university should be about. Not just the books and exams, but the adventures that happen in between.

---

Whisky Education in Speyside

Fourth year, dissertation stress reaching critical levels: time for Speyside. If you're going to have a breakdown, might as well do it in Scotland's whisky capital, right?

The Whisky Trail became my alternative education. Forget biochemistry – I was learning about malting, fermentation, and the fine art of pretending you can taste "hints of honey and autumn leaves" in a dram.

Glenfiddich, Macallan, Balvenie – each distillery told a different story, but they all had the same ending: me, slightly tipsy, buying bottles I couldn't afford with my student loan money.

The tour guide at Macallan asked what I studied. When I said biomedical sciences, he said, "Well, this is fermentation science. Close enough." Best academic justification for day drinking I've ever heard.

Loch Ness: The Monster Hunt

Obviously, you can't spend four years in Aberdeen without making the pilgrimage to Loch Ness. I went at dawn because I figured if Nessie was going to make an appearance, it would be when the tour buses were still sleeping.

Did I see the monster? Absolutely not. But watching the mist roll off the loch as the sun came up, sitting on the shore with a thermos of coffee and the quiet confidence that I was exactly where I needed to be – that was its own kind of magic.

The visitor center was peak tourist trap, but Urquhart Castle was worth the trip. Standing in those ancient ruins, looking out over the loch, imagining centuries of Highland history – that's when you realize Scotland gets under your skin.

---

My Highland Adventures

• 🚗 Epic Isle of Skye road trip - Four students, one car, infinite views

• 🏔️ Ben Nevis in apocalyptic weather - Questioned my sanity, found my strength

• 🌊 Loch Ness at dawn - No monster, but perfect peace

• 🥃 Whisky tasting in Speyside distilleries - Academic research, obviously

• 🏞️ Cairngorms hiking in all weather - My study break sanctuary

• 🏰 Glen Coe pub sessions - Where stories are born

• 🦌 Highland cow encounters - Scotland's most photogenic residents

• ⭐ Northern Lights hunting from Aberdeen beach - Patience is a virtue

The Northern Lights That Almost Happened

My final year, someone posted in the Aberdeen University Facebook group: "Aurora alert tonight!" So naturally, at 11 PM on a Tuesday, I dragged my flatmates to Aberdeen Beach to hunt for Northern Lights.

We stood there for three hours, shivering in November wind, staring at what was probably just clouds but might have been the faintest hint of green. Did we see the Aurora Borealis? Debatable. Did we bond over shared hypothermia while eating chips from the beachfront takeaway? Absolutely.

Sometimes the adventure is in the attempt, not the outcome.

---

What the Highlands Taught Me

Four years of Highland escapes taught me that home isn't just where you're from – it's where your heart finds peace. The Scottish Highlands became my therapy, my classroom, my reminder that there's a whole world beyond university stress.

Every time I felt overwhelmed by biomedical sciences, every time Aberdeen felt too small, every time I questioned what I was doing so far from Bulgaria – the Highlands were there. Waiting with their moody weather, dramatic views, and the kind of silence that helps you remember who you are.

The Highlands taught me that sometimes you need to get lost in the wilderness to find yourself in life. That the best conversations happen in Highland pubs after long hikes. That whisky tastes better when you've earned it by climbing mountains. And that home can be anywhere you feel brave enough to be yourself.

Now, back in Berlin, when university stress dreams still occasionally wake me up, I close my eyes and picture Glen Coe in the rain, or the view from Ben Nevis, or that perfect moment at Loch Ness when everything felt possible.

P.S. - I still have that bottle of 18-year-old Macallan I bought during dissertation stress. Some things are too good to open, but too meaningful to forget. Like the Highlands themselves.