The Old and the Beautiful

Sometimes I forget how far away I am from where I came.  I'll be thinking about something else, and then suddenly, "Oh, my God!  I'm in Scotland!"  It's strange how that happens.  Normally, though, all I have to do is look up at the mountains.  That reminds me not only of where I came from, but where I am. 

I love the mountains here.  When I lived in Seattle, that was my favorite thing about that city.  Many details about living there have faded from my memory, but one that never will is riding the bus into the city as the sun was coming up through the mountains.  I don't miss how flat Ohio is.  Being surrounded by such a beautiful landscape makes every day more interesting. 

I also love driving around and seeing castles, ruins, and old buildings.  For those that have lived here their entire lives, such things are commonplace and probably quite boring.  For those of us that haven't, these extraordinary buildings are awe-inspiring, and I still have a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that these places are everywhere.

Just down the road from us are the well-in-tact remains of the Cambuskenneth Abbey, founded in 1140 (that's right, I said 1140....).

Anywhere we go, we can see two beautiful buildings:  the Wallace Monument, and Stirling Castle, perched high atop the Ochils.

The Wallace Monument is quite young by Scottish standards....only 150 years old.  Stirling Castle, however, dates back to 1124, and was the site of many famous battles.

Walking down from the castle is an adventure in itself.  That area is Stirling Old Town, with the Holy Rude Church dating back to the 12th century, an old schoolhouse dating back to 1593, and many other fascinating places.   

This is what makes living here so special for me.  It feels like I belong where old things are.  Walking through these places stirs something deep in my soul that has longed to be fed.  Standing atop Stirling Castle recently, I read a sign that said it was the exact spot where the queen went to look at the views.  There was something magical about standing there....something that makes me feel part of a larger whole.  I wonder, what was it like to live then? 

I really love it here.  It is so beautiful, so dramatic, so lovely.  The only time I have felt a pang of sadness is when I saw a woman with young children out playing, and her mother was along to help.  Another small pang watching two women chatting over tea while their kids played together.  I do miss my friends and my family, but do I regret coming here?  Never.    

Driving Adventures

I know how difficult change is. Every time life changes, especially in a major way, something inside must shift to make room for the new. If nothing shifts, then new changes are experienced in old ways. Pushing myself to be uncomfortable for a while, to do things that are hard, is important to me.  Driving in Scotland was one of those hard things.

There was no avoiding learning to drive.  I did, however, enjoy the safety of sitting in the passenger's seat with David driving for the first four or five days.  He kept asking if I wanted to take the wheel, but I made excuses (the main excuse being that I needed some time to simply observe and get a feel for the rules of the road).  Eventually, especially with him back to work so soon, I had to get tough and do it.

My first real driving experience was testing out cars.  I was scared, but the universe provides.  The saleswoman at our first stop (Toyota) was about the sweestest person I could have encountered, and not only was she understanding, but she took me to a nice, deserted area where I could comfortably test drive the car.  By the end of the day, I took a Ford Fiesta out onto a busy road, and although my hands ached from clutching the wheel, I made it back to the dealership in one piece.  Aside from a small mishap involving a VW Polo and a curb, I didn't do too badly.

Wrapping my head around driving on the other side of the road physically made my brain hurt at first.  My biggest fear was having the girls in the car and experiencing a momentary lapse of judgement....would I pull out onto the wrong side, would I look the wrong way and not see an uncoming car?  What helped me the most was always remembering that I would be sitting closest to the middle of the road, no matter which way I turned. 

Having the stick shift in my left hand was also difficult at first, and I must admit to putting the car in reverse instead of second gear a few times (that grinding noise sure does wake you up).  By the way, people here think it's funny when you call it a "stick shift".   Saying it makes you reeeaaalllly American.

Most of all what strikes me about driving in Scotland is just how alert I need to be when driving (or even walking).  The streets are narrow and you are required to fit into and drive through spaces that would make most Americans sweat bullets.  You have to dodge cars, watch out for people (because people actually walk around here), and decide which exit you'll be taking on the roundabout before reaching it.  Add pouring rain to the equation and you'll surely understand why, on more than one occassion, I have broken down into sobbing tears after finding a spot to pull over.  "What's wrong, Mommy?"  I normally answer, "I'm okay, girls....Mommy's just getting used to driving around Scotland."  Luckily, my two biggest cheerleaders are in the back seat.  Whenever I get stressed and warn them that I might not find where we're going, I hear, "You can do it, Mom!"

So I know now why talking on a cell phone (okay..."mobile") while driving is illegal here, and why I may never drink another cup of tea in the car again.  There's simply too much going on between the figuring out and the shifting.  I'm just going to convince myself that cutting down on caffeine is a good thing.

And when all else fails, I remind myself that being uncomfortable sometimes is okay.  These are the experiences that will make me more open-minded, more understanding, and will teach me to be more patient and kind to myself....a quality that is sorely needed.  I hope to teach my girls to be independent and take chances.  I also want them to know that it's alright to cry, too.  This is what it's all about...the "down and dirty" of moving to a new place, a new country. 

Here's to shifting my car....and shifting my thinking!

Touch Down!

We touched down in Edinburgh at about 7:30 in the morning on Monday, August 15th (not a smooth landing, but we were all alive....what more could I ask for?).  We were home.  We got off the plane, Mommy a bit bleary-eyed and only slightly worse for the wear, and headed into immigration.  David and I crossed our fingers that my visa and the girl's passports would check out fine.  After a few minutes of questioning, we were wished good luck by the immigration officer, and were on our way.

We picked up our luggage and headed out.  In the Edinburgh aiport, there is a long, winding walkway that leads you to a large automatic sliding door, which is where you exit.  Since it took us a bit longer to get our bags, take the girls to the bathroom, fuss around, etc., we were one of the last from our plane to walk out.  Some people several hundred feet in front of us walked through the doors, and we got a peek at the people waiting outside.  What we saw was so wonderful.

We emerged through the doors to our waiting family, who were holding a sign that said "Welcome, American Lawries".  David's parents, his sister Pauline and her partner Scott, and our niece Larissa were waving Scottish flags and yelling lots of "hooray"s.  Amid goody bags for the girls, lots of hugs, and a few tears from me, we slowly moved toward the doors and out into the beautiful Scottish weather ("beautiful" and "Scottish weather" are normally two words that don't go together, but the day we arrived was gorgeous).  

It took a while, but we all managed to get our luggage and ourselves into two cars, and we were off.  We headed to my in-law's for some breakfast and possibly a rest.  I felt a strange mix of adrenaline and utter exhaustion that's difficult to explain.  Luckily the girls were doing fine in the back, and even managed to point out a few castles along the way (exciting to them only because they think Cinderella might live in one).

After some food and chat, I was ready to go and check out what would be our home for the next few months.  A quaint town with a beautiful main street, Bridge of Allan is a small neighborhood in the larger city of Stirling.  Our apartment is fully furnished, and although a bit cramped with only two bedrooms and not much space, we would make do.

We arrived and unpacked but decided not to sleep.  We would stay up and attempt to get the girls to bed at their normal time, if possible.  Our little troopers slept hard that first night, and neither woke up until about 10 am.  Unfortunately, David had to work the next day, so his Dad came by to take me to the grocery store and keep us company.

When everything is new....every street, every sign, each person....the world changes.  That's how it was for me those first few days.  It was like being reborn.  I was able to see the world with a child's eyes again, and I'm grateful that I was aware of such an awesome personal transformation.