I’m sitting alone in a coffee shop on a cold, drizzly day in central Scotland and I’m not expecting anybody. It’s just me, a book and a cup of the strongest coffee I’ve ever tasted. The familiar feeling of a pocketed cell phone pressing against my leg is gone. I have no direct connection to anyone — my friends and family are an Atlantic Ocean away — and I am content.

Aside from a few one-week visits from friends and family, I spent most of my semester abroad in isolation. Sure, I made friends with all of my flatmates (Scottish for “roommates”) and I met plenty of Americans who were overseas. But I’m a shy, private person and a few months just weren’t enough time to detach myself from my natural inclination toward solitude. And that’s not a bad thing.

I arrived at my flat in Stirling, Scotland, on a misty morning in January 2006. I was so physically drained from the nine-hour flight that as I trudged up the stairs to my room, I was grateful the airline had lost the heaviest piece of my luggage (I eventually got it back). I had two weeks to get settled in before the start of classes. My flatmates were still enjoying their Christmas breaks and wouldn’t return for more than a week.

I slept well the first night, but then my body returned to the schedule I had been on while at home in St. Louis. My midnight snack of sleeping pills, warm English beer and more sleeping pills didn’t help me fall asleep any earlier. I convinced myself that the mattress was too firm, so I flipped it over with the hope that the other side would be more comfortable. Each day for two weeks I greeted the rising sun and fell asleep hours later. It was then I realized I had better get used to change — and a new kind of solitude.

This feeling was a bit scary at first, even though it fit my lifestyle perfectly. I’ve already mentioned that I’m no extrovert. I still don’t have all of my current roommates’ phone numbers and we’ve been living together for almost a year. I’m the person who hates if someone sits next to him when there are plenty of other open seats and, for the most part, I don’t like seeing anyone I know in public because I never know what to say.

At home, I choose to be somewhat reclusive. But overseas, I had no choice. After the initial loneliness, however, I became comfortable with the solitude. Keeping to myself is a hobby of mine, and studying abroad was a great opportunity to perfect that hobby. I was the same person, just in a new place.

One by one, my flatmates returned from their vacations and I quickly befriended them. The human contact was nice, but artificial. I got as close as I thought I needed to, but no closer. After all, my return flight home was booked and the date was circled on my calendar. Here I was, an American student thrown into a solid circle of best friends only to be taken out again in a few months. Although memorable, the times I had with my Scottish buddies seemed as rented as the flat we lived in. And, like the key to that flat, the friendships would have to be given back.

I did the touristy things such as a visit to Edinburgh Castle and a tour of a whiskey distillery, but I only did these things so I could say I’d done them. They didn’t define my time abroad.

As my flatmates went home each weekend, I stayed in and watched TV, even episodes of American Idol that were new to Scotland but weeks behind the airings in the U.S. During the day I would go into town to explore or sit by the lake on campus. My 21st birthday celebration consisted of a six-pack of Carling beer and history notes (finals began the following day). My classes were mostly big lectures, reminiscent of freshman year. I bought my coffee from the same machine each day and took my place in the back of the room where I could listen and take notes unnoticed, alone.

I studied by myself, ate by myself, shopped by myself, experienced by myself. True, few times in my life have I ever felt so alone, but few times have I ever been so content. The obligations that had characterized my pre-Scotland life vanished. Life was less hectic, less stressful. I had fewer things on my mind, yet I thought more than ever before, and not about deadlines or due dates. I never had to call anyone back and rarely had to be somewhere at a certain time.

Before my experience in Scotland, I had almost forgotten what it was like to have enough time to truly relax, enjoy these college years and not worry. Spending time alone made me realize that the simpler life is, the happier I am. Unfortunately, the days since my return have been busier than ever. My memories of Scotland have left me with a longing for simplicity and a stronger sense of comfort in my quiet character.