It was so surreal being with someone from camp in a non-camp environment (although it always has felt slightly that way, until recently I think, when my camp friends have become more than just camp friends but true, life-long friends). But it's so incredible, always, being with someone who understands my jokes about Today's Special or the tuck shop or my constant need to reminiscence about the Waterfront.
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When I reflect back on the few days I spend in Scotland, I find myself thinking in the musical accent in my head, which is odd, considering most of the time I didn't have a clue what was being said to me. I would often smile and nod and then turn to Rachel, looking for a translation.
But I loved that they said "out" and "about" like "oot" and "aboot", like Canadians, and that rather than "um", they said "ehhh".
It was difficult not to lapse into an accent myself, just letting my voice and tongue slide over words and phrases. My brother and I have often been told that we speak with an odd lilt, something neither us or our parents have been able to properly explain, and sometimes I find myself frustrated when it comes through and forces me to concentrate on being understood. I think the Scottish brogue was one that I wouldn't mind picking up rather than whatever the heck Ben and I have.
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Rachel and I spent an absurd amount of time being cultured.
We browsed through two art galleries, attended an orchestra performance, watched a (very British) film, and a production of The Tempest. Maybe that's why I really enjoyed Glasgow- I felt like like it was comparable to my school-home of Kingston, a place filled with art and opportunities to appreciate it.
I also loved the architecture of the city- beautiful in a very strong, bold sort of way.
I think the only thing I struggled with was the rain. One day I looked out the window and said, "I don't think it'll rain today" and Rachel laughed at me. It rains every day in Glasgow. I'm not sure I could live in a somewhere that's always slightly damp.
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The second day I was there we went hiking at a nearby lake - or, loch, as they call it in Scotland. Beautiful, green rolling hills and this tremendous view of the expansive Loch Lomond greeted us when we reached the top.
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It was five short days I stayed with Rachel, but I was so grateful for every moment. The chance to relax with a good friend and not worry about if my stuff was getting stolen back at my hostel or if I would find somewhere to eat supper was very good for my mental and emotional health.
On the 13th, we woke up at 3 AM to get a taxi to the bus station. I waved goodbye to Rachel and was off once again.
Glasgow tasted like dark chocolate and cheddar and felt like peace. I'd love to experience more Scotland, but the days I had there were exactly what I needed.
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I'm currently in Madrid, with family. Today I went to El Prado, felt overwhelmed by all the art there, had a picnic in a park where I played with friends of the family (including an adorable three year old), registered for a Spanish intensive course (fingers crossed, I'm super nervous), and went for a two hour swim (I can't feel my shoulders but I'm so happy).
All things said and done, I love being here, getting to know people I've always called family but have never really known. But I also am counting down the days until I am home.
Home.
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