Friday, January 30, 2015

Dear January 29th,

What a day to be alive. A long time from now I'll think back to this day (among many others) and think about how great my time in Scotland was. I've been focused on my return home and time has been flying by. But if there was a day that had me wishing time would stand still for just a bit, it was yesterday.

My day at work went by as most of the previous days had. I hopped on my bike, literally hopped, I've been working on my cross skills on my commutes. For the final time I pedalled through the snow down Dell road, took the short cut to the icy bridge, made it over that, and continued on to the Lazy Duck. Aside from January 1st, when I failed to make it to work, I've commuted every day on that little bike. Blizzards, squalls, monsoons, ice, I've seen and survived it all. I'm a bit proud of this as you may be able to tell. After seeing to my dear friends the hens and sheep I'd tick off a few to-dos on my list. Before I knew it we were putting away the ducks and I was hopping back on my bike.

But my day doesn't end there. Around 7:00 pm I'd receive a text from Valery letting me know that my "car had arrived". Paul and I were off to dinner with the Deans at the Cairn. After rushing about throwing on shoes and realizing we had to pee we finally made it out the door. Getting into the car we were greeted by David and Valery and soon on our way. The drive was nice, I find that I do often now enjoy sitting in a car. It's a real novelty. The roads up here are nice too, twisting in and out of trees and by fields, there's not much traffic. I'd love to be here in the summer with a road bike. At the end of our journey we'd pull into the Cairn's parking lot. 

The Cairn is an absolutely lovely English style pub. You walk in looking directly at the bar, with a pool table on your right and seating on the left. David is greeted by who I assume to be the manager and we snag the perfect table right by the fireplace. Paul and I opt for the bench seating while Valery quickly claims the seat closest to the fire. Soon though it's back on our feet as we head to the bar with David, returning with pints in hand. Of course I'd get a beer with "cat" in the name, a Scottish beer, the Wildcat. Back in our seats we settled down and started the long process of deciding what to eat. 

It wasn't long at all really. As soon as I read "Fish & Chips" I was sold. Back at the cottage I had told Paul about my hopes of a fish and chip dinner. If I was going to have any last meal out in the UK, that's what it had to be. Three out of the four of us went with it. David, to our horror, picked duck. Valery exclaimed, quite rightly, "How could you!". But I think we both knew how he justified it. I at least thought about our odd duck, a Mandarin, when I looked at the menu. This duck in particular had given us a late afternoon in the cold as we tried to coax him into the enclosed area for his tea. Eventually we were defeated and he was left out for the night. Afterwards we came to the conclusion it may have been Valery's orange jacket, a display color of this kind of Mandarin. He may have looked right at her and thought "Well then, that's the biggest damn duck I've ever seen, I'm going to go hide". 

With appetizers on the table, pints in hand, and food on the way, we chatted about all sorts of things. The Deans really are the perfect couple of folks to have a meal with. Any topic can be covered and they have an exciting background that contributes all manner of experiences meaning they always have an interesting story. David at one point teased me about being too laid back. Claiming he often heard the wood talking amongst itself about getting into the woodpile, certain that it'd have to move on its own before I got to it. My favorite bit is when he directed a review left for the Lazy Duck at me. Someone claimed that the "Lazy ducks are so laid back they're almost horizontal", he thought that fit me well. Really, so horizontal that he often wondered if I was laying on the ground somewhere. But just when he thought I was, I'd show up, plodding along like a diesel engine that just doesn't want to stop yet. 

Before our pudding arrived I was handed a scroll. But, first, a word. While many call their dessert pudding, some may even say "pud", I've never seen anyone eat pudding for their... pudding. David and I elected to try the "Affy-guid-o", which I believe caught us both off guard when it came with a shot of some liquor. When Valery asked what kind David's response was, "Strong". He was right. Alongside our liquor was a shot of espresso and a scoop of ice cream. While it's not pudding, it is a dessert! Anyway, back to this scroll. To my horror David claimed I must read it aloud in front of everyone in the establishment. Thankfully, I was spared this. I read it aloud to my group of friends, and below I'll transcribe what it says. 

"This award to our esteemed friend is made in recognition of his highly valued winter helper services - Courageous & copious wood carter & stacker, super special snow clearer, everlasting laundry laddie, hopeful hens' egg collector, dandy duck manager, happy hostel host and preparer, whole hearted hot tub cleaner and igniter, special trail tramper & treat Django walker, fast, fun & furious projectile on two wheels, peaceful ponderer of life & good all around ambassador for his country." 

I left the states before I ever saw my college diploma, it arrived in the mail so late. I'm not even sure what it looks like. And to be honest, I'm not too worried about that. My award for "courage and service in a foreign land" presented at the Cairn Hotel in Carr-Bridge will hang right next to, maybe even above, my diploma. Certainly not in the loo as David suggested, it will be displayed proudly (not saying a bathroom isn't a place of pride). I had been thinking of some way to commemorate my time spent here and this is just the thing to do it. 

Unfortunately time did not stand still and soon we were finishing our pudding and traversing the icy lane back to the car. We made the trip back, this time with Valery driving. She wasn't sure if she'd make it to the dinner but then David had suggested we may need a chauffeur. Not only for her lovely driving, but also her conversation, I'm incredibly glad she made it. Paul and I got dropped off at the Dell and waved goodbye before heading up to the fire pit. It was later than we expected but luckily Ross was still up and soon joined us, whiskey in hand. The fire roared and engulfed the entire pit, at one point we even stood up on the bank above the seating. A bit of snow fell as we stood around and talked about life while enjoying the warmth of the fire and the whiskey. There was also the sampling of Paul's "fine" wine. Sponsored by a £20 Tesco card sent to him for his birthday which was turned into 5 bottles of £4 wine (all red, from various countries). I couldn't have asked for a better end to the day. 

Today I have the day off. Mostly in anticipation of what happened the last time I drank with Ross. But also so I can pack my things and do a bit of cleaning here in the cottage. I'll also be doing a bit of reflecting on my long journey. Six months ago I was in Iceland working with a kennel of 46 dogs. How exactly did I get here to the Highlands of Scotland? And of course thinking about home and the long journey ahead. While right now I may not feel much like leaving behind "Bonnie Scotland" I am looking forward to seeing everyone back home. And I know that my leaving isn't "The End" but "To Be Continued..." At some point in my trip I've stopped looking at this as intimidating or daunting. It's not a once in a lifetime type of experience, and it's not abnormal. I can, if I want to, get up and go. When I say one day I'll be back, it isn't wishful thinking. It's no longer the subject of a dream. One day I will be back. I know I have it in me. 

Sincerely,
Zeb

P.S.
I do hope, absolutely, that the volunteer coming to replace me will give it her all. If my stay overlapped with her arrival I'd encourage her to do her best in taking care of David and Valery. They are lovely people that work very hard, maybe too hard. It's important for them to get a bit of rest and I think working alongside them is great for doing that, helping ease their load. 

Thursday, January 15, 2015

Dear Scent,

You're taken for granted. And that's unfortunate. You might be my favorite sense. Well, behind sight and sound. But still! You're top three buddy. And I really appreciate you for what you do. You've been on my mind a lot lately. Generally no one takes notice of you unless you're really good... or really bad. And that's what I'd like to talk about.

I really like scent because I seem to have many memories tied to it. I'm sure I'm not the only one. Surely you've smelled something and all the sudden you're thinking about something you haven't thought of in a long time. Isn't that interesting? One of my best personal examples is a perfume used by a teacher of mine from way back in the day, maybe kindergarten. Whenever I smell it I'm immediately transported back to being a young child sitting in a dull room. It's not the best journey, but it's nostalgic now. If I knew the name of the scent and had a dating profile that'd probably be #1 on my list of "please no one with this". Of course there are good things too, my Aunt Martha has always used a similar laundry detergent. Whenever I smell that I think of going over to Will and Jack's to play.

During my time abroad I've had some pretty funny scent based moments. In a post from Iceland I mentioned smelling like a dog and not noticing until I got into the car with our friendly Eskimos' lady. My nylon shell pants still smell quite dog like even after all this time and all this washing. Another dog related scent: raw meat puke. Charming isn't it? I thought so too. Thank you Anubis for the lovely treat. You've burned yourself into my memory indefinitely. And finally, my gloves. Which still hold the fishy scent of the kibble we fed the crew. Yum. Of course sometimes we produce smells of our own. Poor Anna suffered a chemical attack in the Oslo train station as I removed my sweater which had been holding in, apparently, quite a stench. Sorry about that! But we had been in the Norwegian wilderness for quite some time with no bath. It was all part of becoming one with the land. Also let's consider it a bit of payback for your wet running shoes which had acquired a lovely aroma while stashed away in the rental car.

Back to my sweater... there's that wooly smell. Which is neither good not bad. But something I distinctly know. It's only obvious when you've been moving around a bit. The wool seems to warm up, or something. Which reminds me of the taste-smell relationship. I ate a cheese once that I described as "like my wool sweater", strangely folks seemed to not eat much more after that. Guess that's not a good example. But luckily for you I do have a few. Again in Norway there was a perfumey wood, it reminded Anna of the Beatles' "Norwegian Wood". The smell of wood in general is comforting. Splitting wood in Somerset or peeling bark, working in the woodpile here in Nethy, and the smell of a fire. We'd often have fires back in Mocksville, and the smell of a wood fire is friendly.

And then there's what I've come to think of as "the smell of adventure". What does adventure smell like? Speed Stick - Regular Scent deodorant. Next time you're in the store meander by the deodorant section and inhale some adventure. Why do I think that? Because that's the only deodorant I've ever worn outside the US. In Peru I had it because it was one of the few deodorants sold in a small package. Same reason I've had it with me here in Europe. Which may say something, that a small deodorant has lasted me six months. It's not often I need to smell "good". In the woods no one cared. Except maybe Anna. But now the Regular Speed Stick scent is embedded in my mind right next to memories of foreign places.

The mind is an odd thing. Like how this whole post was spurred on by me putting on deodorant and thinking "Ahhh, adventure". Even though I was really just heading to the Lazy Duck to do some laundry. Which smells fantastic by the way. Anyway, get out there and do some sniffing. And don't forget to thank your nose every now and then. Even if it gets you into something very unfortunate. Looking at you Anubis.

Sincerely,
Zeb

Other Smells I Love:
Fresh mountain air
Crisp mornings
Snow
Vanilla
Books
Flowers at night in Spring
Sunscreen (A woman in a shop I stopped at on a ride once told me I smelled like Summer.)
A pack of Pokemon cards
Apples
Fresh cut grass
Coffee (Even though I don't really drink it.)
Cedar
Tomatoes

And much more.

Friday, January 2, 2015

Dear New Year,

You really crept up on me. Well, not really. I've been looking at a calendar pretty frequently. So I knew you were about to arrive but it still feels like you crept up on me. Every year is the same. I know it's happening but then I still find myself a bit surprised that it's "a new year". What exactly does that mean? I'm still trying to figure it out. Is it really that big of a deal? No, not really. But we think it is, and we feel like it is, so it is. We've got that idea of a clean start, setting a new course in life, a whole new year with new potential. But, 72 hours ago we weren't very different than we are now. So what's the big deal?

Here in Scotland New Year's Eve is a pretty big deal. Edinburgh is supposed to have one of the best celebrations. For a while when I found out I was headed for Scotland I thought about trying to make it to the city. In the end I'm glad that I didn't. I spent the night here at the Dell with Ross, Polly, Kev, and Eevee (she probably doesn't spell it like the Pokemon). Ross called me and invited me up to the fire pit to toast marshmallows with he and Harris (his 3 year old son). I think that was my first and last toasted marshmallow of 2014, I'll work on that in 2015. Afterwards we'd head back to the house and we'd ease into the festive drinking. I'd learn that Scotland can actually make good cider. Snacking was started and my short visit turned into a lengthy one. Soon Kev and Eevee arrived. Kev I had met at the Andy Nisbet talk.

Eventually after extended snacking (I tried black pudding for the first and maybe last time) the festivities would move outside. Around a fire everyone chatted and drank counting down the time to the new year. It seems that the custom is to shout when the clock hits 12:00. We held in our shouting a bit as the children were in the house sleeping. A new tradition was introduced and I was invited to join in. We'd all write something to embrace from the past year, something to work to put behind us, and something to look forward to in the new year. Once written down our slips of paper were thrown into the fire. As the paper burned away I focused on the present and forgot about the past and the future. Time escaped my comprehension and the next thing I knew it was 5 AM while Ross and I stood outside. I'd later wake up on the couch wondering why it was light outside and 10:00 AM. This is how I missed my first day of work.

Luckily the folks over at the Lazy Duck were understanding. My first day of the new year was spent reminding myself how important recovery is. And water and greasy eggs with onion and garlic. The Dark Knight was playing and as I watched it I thought about the previous night and what it meant to have a "new year" in front of me. Ross told a story about how he had a talk with Harris and explained to him everything he thought Harris did well this past year and what was in store this coming year. Harris kept asking "And then? And then? And then?" I guess a lot of people do that only they're asking a different "father". Ross also told us that to Harris everything in the past is yesterday and everything in the future is Tuesday. Fantastic.

Anyway, there I was. The Dark Knight playing, steamy eggs with onion and garlic and hot sauce, wondering about Tuesday and asking myself "and then?" What will happen in 2015? I really liked 2014. Is it possible to top such a big year? Working with my friend Reid with cycling, graduation, a wild Summer in Boone, 5 months living abroad from Iceland to Scotland. And then? I'm working on it. But as I learned while travelling, the best plan might be not having a plan. Of course I know a general direction I'd like to see myself move this year so I have a few goals.

Normally I wouldn't be one to write out or publicly share my goals. J. Cole said in one of his songs something along the lines of not sharing your dreams because then other people can't shoot them down. And I guess I see that point of view. But when I first told people that I wanted to travel I had so much support and so many people tell me to go for it. It's also like I was committed as soon as I mentioned it out loud for the first time. I'd get this rush from telling people "I'm going to travel around Europe for a while". And that turned into "I've bought my ticket to Iceland". And then there I was standing in Keflavik.

And then? Well.. I'd like to find a job. Which I've been working on. I'm not too picky and I've applied for quite a bit already, we'll see what happens. I'd like to get back on the bike. When I left my bikes behind I left a part of me behind and in all my travelling nothing has quite filled that gap. Not a day has gone by that I haven't thought about it. While I'm still young and capable of making my body do dumb stuff I'd like to push myself. And finally, I'd like to pursue something to do with writing. Many of you all have told me that you like my rambling and I'm incredibly grateful for that. It has inspired me to keep it up and think about having it as part of my future.

From this past year I'll always remember the kindness of others. The people that have taken me in and helped me make it as far as I have. The ones that unexpectedly entered my life and gave me memories I'll never forget. And the ones back home that have always supported me in this odd adventure. I know it's not over yet, I've still got four weeks here in Scotland. So please, friends and family, don't give up the support quite yet. But thanks for everything you've done to get me to where I am. You all made 2014 an unforgettable year.

Sincerely,
Zeb

At least I'll be easy to find in the airport.