Scotland

To see all of these different cultures has been such an adventure. Today Stuart took us out to small fishing villages about an hour outside of Edinburgh. I felt as though I could finally breathe for the first time on this trip. Sea air filled my lungs and silence hung around me except for the sounds of the ocean. Old stone walls sat staring out into the bay as though they held all of the stories of the past. As we sat looking out onto the water an old man limped up past us, his old shaggy greyhound not far behind. The greyhound had the same limp as the haggard man. When he passed, I could see the creases on his face. He mumbled a gruff greeting and continued on his way. At least he said hello. No one in any city we have been has ever said hello in passing. I wished I could have asked him where he came from, what he had seen, who he was. Who he used to be. 

Boats were docked in a harbor that are still used to this day. Men continue to rise at five in the morning in order to leave when the tide is high at six. They travel thirty miles out to see in order to catch shellfish of sorts as they did hundreds of years ago. The smell of the fish hangs in the air around the small ships. It looks as though the water isn’t even moving. I have never seen ocean water so calm. The water wasn’t in a hurry to go anywhere. 

Stuart told stories of a man who hikes across miles of sand every morning in order to map out where the quicksand is. His only help is a long stick that he uses to poke the sand. When the man is sure that it is safe to walk there, he sticks a small flag into the dense sand and continues on his way. 

Years ago, twelve Chinese men began their journey to work in the grey early morning dawn. As they walked along the sand, none of them bothered to notice the small flags guiding their way. The farther they walked, the more they realized that the sand seemed to be fairly mushy beneath their feet. Before they could turn back, all twelve men were stuck in quick sand. With no way to get out, the men simply had to wait as their death grew closer. “There are at least twelve skeletons under the sand”, as Stuart said. 

Scotland is stunning. Jagged cliffs rise behind the city buildings. A dormant volcano sits in the distance. Ruins of ancient castles and buildings are scattered everywhere. Everything seems to have a story.

The people here are very tough. They walk with intensity in their step. Even the way they talk is pretty aggressive. Most of them seem slightly unhappy. It’s probably the weather. Despite those opinions I have, the Scots also seem nice. Much nicer than other people we have encountered on this trip.

I find myself still greatly missing home. I miss my family so much. I think of them every single day. I also think of my room, my dog, the meals my mom would make. The light that cascaded through the window in my room. Oh, how do I miss the coast. Everything about it. I miss my old job, my friends, my routines. I miss my car. I just miss California is general. 

On the flip side, this trip is so mind blowing. Everything about it is an opportunity to learn and grow. Every single day is something new. I just have to remember to take one day at a time. One foot in front of the other. It’s that simple. Whenever I think about going home I realize I cannot leave here. Not yet. It’s too amazing.