I’m an American living in the UK. It’s had incredible perks, but I wasn’t prepared for some major differences.

Many of the architecture and landmarks in Scotland are older than the United States.

The US wasn’t founded until 1776. Meanwhile, The University of Glasgow, where I pursued my degree, was founded in 1451 — and it’s still only the fourth oldest university in the UK.

The campus and city are beautiful, and I get to walk through and past centuries-old buildings, cathedrals, and clock towers daily. I’m still in awe of being surrounded by so much history.

Shortly after moving to the UK, I realized just how important it was to find a “local” — basically, a pub that feels like home that you can visit for any occasion.

Fortunately, I was quickly able to find mine by sticking to a routine. Every Monday, my friends and I would pile into a pub near our university for weekly trivia to share pints and (usually) finish in fifth place.

Eventually, it became a go-to shared space for us, where we’d drag extra stools around the big wooden tables to toast birthdays, celebrate graduations, and host going-away parties.

Many years ago, Scotland established the “right to roam,” which allows visitors recreational access to most land, as long as it’s done so responsibly.

This is quite different from what I’m used to in the US, where a gate in a field feels like a sure sign to turn around, and I’d be hesitant to wander off any labeled trail.

However, in some parts of Scotland, there aren’t even labeled paths to follow — especially when it comes to munros (mountains over 3,000 feet).

After many months of hiking, I got used to making my own trails through farmers’ fields and learned to wayfind with maps and compasses.

Now, instead of relying on marked paths, I’m accustomed to making my own decisions about where to go while ascending and descending peaks.

It took me a while to adjust to Scotland’s rainy weather, but I no longer let some water stop me from going outside or running on trails.

I’ve also gotten used to how talking about the weather never seems to get old here. Oftentimes, it feels deeper than even small talk — locals seem genuinely interested in discussing why or how much it’s raining.

However, I still get excited when I check the weather app on my phone and see even one day that doesn’t have a raindrop.

Although I don’t drive, I’ve been able to get anywhere I’ve wanted to go without a car in Scotland.

Despite some delays and cancellations, the public-transportation options I’ve had access to have really impressed me. For example, I’ve been able to explore Scotland’s highlands and islands by train, bus, and ferry.

Last April, my partner and I were even able to take our bikes to the scenic Isle of Mull for a long weekend just by toting them on a train and ferry.

When I first moved to the UK, I quickly learned vocabulary I’m not used to at home, like using “wee” to mean “little” or calling “eggplant” an “aubergine.”

It no longer rains, it “pisses down,” and I don’t “go to the store,” I simply “head to the shops.”

However, even two and a half years later, I’m still picking up new phrases and spellings and jumbling them into ones I grew up with.

I’ve had an especially rough time adjusting to the subtle spelling differences. My writing is now a blend of American and British English spellings, sometimes interchanging “s” and “z” in words like “organise” and “analyze.”

I’m never sure how I’ll spell “colour,” but I still spell “favorite” like an American.