I love Scotland.
I had already painted a romantic view of the place in my head long before I ever set foot there. Maybe it was the tormented history, or the difficult terrain and climate. Or maybe it was because from pictures I'd seen, the place didn't seem to be affected by so-called progress. I loved to watch shows about it, and read books set there. My parents had given me a book about it for my birthday one year. I had such a quaint picture built up in my head, that even though I was excited beyond belief, I was actually a little worried when we decided to go there for our honeymoon. Well, the reality beat out those expectations. It is a beautiful place. We especially fell in love with the Highlands, where they still have Gaelic translations on the street signs. The people were warm and welcoming, and the weather was quite lovely (May is the driest month of the year). The terrain goes from rugged to pastoral, with farmlands and beaches never farther away than a walk. And lots of castles and sheep. The best part, though, is that it really seems like you've gone back in time.
I told Jav I want to go back for my 40th (yikes) birthday. Until then, we have to get by with little Scotch fixes from time to time. We're going to the Scottish Festival tomorrow, to eat Shepherd's Pie, watch the Highland Games competition and hear hootenanny-worthy bands, complete with requisite bagpipes. And see lots of men in kilts (at least that's one reason I'M going). But mainly to reminisce about our amazing trip.
One of my favorite authors right now is Ian Rankin, who has a series of Crime Fiction novels, all taking place in and around Edinburgh and starring Detective John Rebus. These are dark and realistic tales, but they are such good reads. And now I can actually picture many of the settings in the books, which is too cool.
Every day I think about Scotland at least once. I don't think I have any Scot in my ancestry, but it calls to me all the same. I'm not sure why. I just know I love it.
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