Our tiny plane descended over the sea, steeply banking over a tiny village clinging to the river mouth. The sun was just rising, filling the sky with light and illuminating the clouds, but still leaving the town in shadow. Down and down, flying a full circle over boats and chopping waves, a few bumps and then down on a beautiful morning in Scotland.
Before I knew it, I was out of customs and out in the chilly morning. A soft spoken women picked up a young man from Germany and myself, then we road off in the morning light, down city streets lined with old stone buildings, over a bridge, and soon enough we were winding down the country drive into my new home.
A nap, a tour, then I was on my own to unpack, explore, and most importantly, sleep off my jet lag. I didn't manage my intercontinental flight because mainly it was simple a state of suspended animation. I did not sleep, but time passed quickly, and next thing I knew I was in a foreign country (which one I couldn't be sure).
After unpacking a bit, I took the opportunity to explore the still deserted community. Many people were due to arrive in the next 24 hours, but there were still few people around. I took the path up beyond my house, jumped over the stile, then through a few gates, up to the wood beyond our property. Up and up a hillside covered with green fairytale moss, up to a steep cliff topped with a stone oblisk. The path wrapped around to the top. The wind rushed through the trees - a Colorado wind running through pine needles rather than the softer east coast wind that shakes the leaves. An almost-full moon over head, the setting sun, yet it was only 3:30. At the top, you could see the sea, and the city below, surrounded by farmlands. I followed another path away, and after a bit, lost in thought, turned around to go back. But that path did not lead me back. If my jet lagged mind could recall anything from previous trips to Scotland, it should have been how easy it was to get lost, but I did not think of that, nor could I recall in the slightest how to get back. I walked back, over the treefall that I remembered, but farther on I found some sheep, which I just could not remember seeing before. So I turned back, desperate to find the oblisk. I thought I saw it in the distance, but as I got closer, it was merely a tall tree. Farther on, that must be the way, there it was.
Towards evening, I met a number of my new co-workers, struggling to recall their names (remember...I my head is in a jet-lagged fog). By 7 pm I could no longer keep my eyes open, and I was asleep.
Before I knew it, I was out of customs and out in the chilly morning. A soft spoken women picked up a young man from Germany and myself, then we road off in the morning light, down city streets lined with old stone buildings, over a bridge, and soon enough we were winding down the country drive into my new home.
A nap, a tour, then I was on my own to unpack, explore, and most importantly, sleep off my jet lag. I didn't manage my intercontinental flight because mainly it was simple a state of suspended animation. I did not sleep, but time passed quickly, and next thing I knew I was in a foreign country (which one I couldn't be sure).
After unpacking a bit, I took the opportunity to explore the still deserted community. Many people were due to arrive in the next 24 hours, but there were still few people around. I took the path up beyond my house, jumped over the stile, then through a few gates, up to the wood beyond our property. Up and up a hillside covered with green fairytale moss, up to a steep cliff topped with a stone oblisk. The path wrapped around to the top. The wind rushed through the trees - a Colorado wind running through pine needles rather than the softer east coast wind that shakes the leaves. An almost-full moon over head, the setting sun, yet it was only 3:30. At the top, you could see the sea, and the city below, surrounded by farmlands. I followed another path away, and after a bit, lost in thought, turned around to go back. But that path did not lead me back. If my jet lagged mind could recall anything from previous trips to Scotland, it should have been how easy it was to get lost, but I did not think of that, nor could I recall in the slightest how to get back. I walked back, over the treefall that I remembered, but farther on I found some sheep, which I just could not remember seeing before. So I turned back, desperate to find the oblisk. I thought I saw it in the distance, but as I got closer, it was merely a tall tree. Farther on, that must be the way, there it was.
Towards evening, I met a number of my new co-workers, struggling to recall their names (remember...I my head is in a jet-lagged fog). By 7 pm I could no longer keep my eyes open, and I was asleep.
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