Day One: Drowsy & Defeated

While preparing to record my experiences, I felt the need to write from a position of strength and confidence. Many who know me know I am those things. However, I find myself wholly in the territory of vulnerability and insecurity.

I’ve decided to allow it for now. I hope that rather than being seen as a buzzkill, the next few posts will act as another shade of revelation to the human condition - more specifically MY human condition.

My sister and I sat in her living room with the kids at school and her husband at work. With our luggage loaded into the car, we sat and prayed on behalf of the trip. We prayed for safety & the Spirit and she prayed for me.

We drove to the Philadelphia airport on a hot and sticky day. The rear of my shirt clung damply to my lower back. It was a feeling I was familiar with for the past six weeks.

I sweated in the July Utah desert as I ran errands, packed up my house, and loaded my car. I sweated in the August Pennsylvania humidity as I ran errands, packed my bags, and sold my car.

After paying over three hundred dollars to the airline, I handed over my baggage and for the first time in months, the load I shouldered (both emotionally and especially physically) was lightened.

I spent so much time behind that enormous boulder trying to get it to move. Here it was. Rolling. The notion sent a new wave of anxiety over me. Even though I prepared and spent incredible energy trying to accomplish just that, the fact that it was rolling meant there was no turning back. And I possessed no control over how fast it would roll or where it would go. The only part revealed to me to this point was to get it rolling.

I jumped onto the plane with my sister beside me. We were of two different minds entirely. This was her temporary globe trotting but this was my new life - a chapter which lay blindly and overwhelmingly before me.

We flew from Philly to JFK and once my flight out of New York was airborne, I felt the full weight of my exodus. BUT here was the unexpected piece. Here was the commencement of the process which would feel TO ME as my Gethsemane.

My identity as I had defined myself remained firmly fixed to the United States. With every passing mile and each passing hour, who I was meant little if anything to the life I was heading toward.

With crumpled clothes and sleepy eyes, we arrived in Edinburgh. I felt sick. I felt homesick. I was gone for less than a day but there I stood in the Scotland air surrounded by six pieces of luggage while my sister procured our rental car. Nothing was familiar and this was a feeling which continues still.

There was no establishment I saw, no air I smelled, no speaking I heard, no food I tasted, and nothing I touched which was familiar. It was all foreign. And even though I was the foreigner, I held the country responsible for not living up to my romantic expectations.

We loaded that small vehicle with my life and traveled an additional three hours to Inverness. We stopped at the Information Center on the border of town to begin the leg of the trip devoted to touring. We spoke to the gal whose name tag read Mhairi- pronounced Vi-ree.

The language barrier was already manifesting itself. Her Gaelic name was the least of our problems. When renting the car, my sister jokingly called the guy a “punk” whereupon she was frustratingly met with reprimand. The mama bear in me was already disliking this people.

Still Mhairi was cute and helpful and offered us copious amounts of information about the Highland Capital. So as we entered the city, we were hungry and homeless. We spent the next hour and a half knocking down B&Bs with little success for vacancy. Ultimately, we phoned and booked spots at a local youth hostel.

After checking in and partaking of their wifi - what seemed to be the only technology coverage we found in the country so far - we journeyed out for a bite. I can only assume the rest of the world hates American food. I’m not even sure I understand what constitutes American food. I only saw I was surrounded by Indian, Asian, and other foreign cuisines.

I consumed a scant morsel with an aching stomach and the heaviest eyelids. There is where I became entirely annoyed with Europeans. When I wanted the “check", we had to first translate this request to a puzzled waitress who derived we were ready for our “bill” who seemed entirely unsure why our dining experience was less than an hour. I paid but because of my lack of understanding how even the point of sale transaction works here, I did not understand I left no tip until we stood up to leave.

Feeling frustrated was becoming my default state of mind and I was not okay with that. We sluggishly entered that hostel and climbed into bed. Though my sister likely only felt exhausted, I felt completely defeated.

This sentiment only escalated after the lights were out, I heard her breathing deepen into a soft snore whilst my physically fatigued body refused to submit to sleep. My continuing defeat led a full assault against me for the next two plus hours while the tears trickled from my eyes.

And that is how my first day in Scotland ended.