Going from a big city to Aberdeen is tough
Aberdeen is not a big city
The first day I ever laid eyes upon Aberdeen was the day I moved there and I remember thinking “So this is the next four years of my life, eh”.
Although I’m not complaining (too much), it’s a strange thing to go from a Glasgow, Manchester and London to what feels like north of the wall. Here’s what’s most striking…
A lot of the students up here are from small towns and so finding out that there’s more than one club is nightlife nirvana. Sure, that fades for most of them as they too realise that Institute, Tunnels, Underground and Exodus are finite for a good time like any other.
The chances are that there’s only going to be one club that’s gonna float your boat on a regular basis and for us big city kids that’s scary. You go from debating which of the smorgasbord of club nights is going to satisfy your many clubbing needs, to getting thrown out of that same club on the third night in a row by the same bouncer after drinking the same Buckfast and 2l combination. There’s been a glitch in the matrix.
WHERE ARE THEY!? It’s either one of those kebab chippies which aren’t the same because the chips are anorexic or the monotonous McDonald’s. Both have their place in my dietary schedule but sometimes I just need big, fat, soggy bag of chippy-chips.
This is where Aberdeen comes into its own. The afters in Aberdeen are consistent and pretty damn good. There have been some bold and adventurous attempts of late to get some raves and fiestas going after the big nights at Tunnels. They’re always quickly shut down, but that’s just all the more credit to the heroes organising these efforts.
However the proper all-night house parties are like that eclipse last year: at an inconvenient time and no one’s really sure whether it’s worth leaving their flat for.
The student housing
When you go back for the holidays you notice all of your student friends live in high ceilinged palaces that sleep eight. They’re living the bohemian squatter’s dream. You can’t decide whether it’s more late 60s or early 90s. The neighbours are Kool and the Gang with all their late parties and the funny smells wafting in at all hours.
Then you go back to your old council house in Woodside which is actually a two man but the loft got converted into a bedroom (your room). It’s cold, really cold. You rock back and forth, obsessing over how you pay £50 a month more rent than your pals back home.
It’s the second most expensive city to live in in the whole of the UK. A bus from Union street to Uni costs more than lunch and lunch is a luxury most of us can’t afford. Entry into clubs can be purse rattling and mind boggling and whatever you do, do not buy a round of pints (especially not craft) south of the bobbin. You won’t eat for days.
I wouldn’t change to a different city even if I could. I know it sounds like I’ve just spent 500 words dressing down the city in which I live but all those things add to the student camaraderie. Our campus is really beautiful, the student bubble is actually quite comforting and the nightlife is such that your alcoholism is never judged or out of place.