"Feeling (too much?) Like a Local"

13. Is "sidewalk rage" a thing? If it is, then I think I am prone to it when other pedestrians don't follow the walking traffic rules. Granted they aren't officially "laws" like on the road but if you need to stop and tie your shoe, read a sign, or the like - I suggest you step to the side mate. Don't mess the rush hour chi on the sidewalk. Otherwise the rest of us peds will resent you for it.
14. Getting this little number from my friend I do "IT Buddies" with. Isn't it terrific? He was so grateful to learn the basics of his new laptop and how to do basic internet searches that he custom-made one of his marvelous origami trees for me.

This list is growing too fast to even keep track of it very well. The thing is, I have noticed that I have found less and less of the daily life here unusual. It isn't just that taking a bus to supermarket then walking with my re-useable bags back to our flat from the bus stop is routine, though it is. It is beyond the wee fridge that seems like a normal size now, the cold, damp weather or the walking to church in my trainers and then changing into my Sunday shoes to avoid blisters. Those things are indeed normal feeling to me now and I suppose that I expected them to become that way at some point; however, while walking home from work along Queensferry Road, I looked up over Dean Bridge as I was crossing it. It is a lovely view, to say the least.

It was at that point though that I realized it had been several days of work since I had taken a moment to look over the bridge that had once been such a wonder to me. I walk along that road several times a week and it has become rare for my breath to catch in my chest when I see the waters of Leith.

Lately I have noticed that while talking to people, I forget they even have an "accent". On telly, Matt and I will be watching advert after advert and not even think twice about how people say their words differently than we do. People will use terms like "mum", "cheers", "didnae" or "couldnae" and it seems quite natural and less like a novelty.

I remember when Matt and I walked bleary-eyed out of the Edinburgh airport at 8am to take a taxi to our hostel and face a full day of jet lag. Worn out and disoriented, we waited on Argyle Street for our hostel to open. The distinctive Scottish and British accents came and went past us like a Doppler effect as locals walked past us. It was all we could do not to sit and smile at each other, as utterly tired and scared as we were, everything around us from the buildings and the sounds on the street to the smell of breweries and rain, we were somewhere new. We were somewhere that was far from home. We were in Scotland. It was an intoxicating feeling - a rush - that made all of the difficult logistics and pains of finding a life in a new place worth it.

I remember this feeling, on a smaller scale when moving to Texas. People actually wore cowboy boots! And grown men would pour themselves into tight wrangler jeans and use the word "y'all". We went to a Stake activity with Matt's grandparents, I remember feeling that rush of excitement that comes when you feel like you are a part of something worth writing about, worth documenting in your life, as I saw this guy cutting open watermelons on a card table with a Texas-sized knife. Afterall, this was "watermelon country" - close to Luling - home of the "Watermelon Thump". It was so Texas and so Mormon ward activity at the same time. It was unique and I had never seen anything quite like it. If you don't see the humor in that, it is probably because you have already had experiences like that in your life before.

There were plenty of things like that when I got here that I just couldn't get over. They were so perfect. So Scottish. So new. But there is this bittersweet thing that happens when a place becomes familiar. It becomes less anecdotal. It becomes normal. It is just life. It's a little sad when I think about it too much. I hope I am taking in enough. Noticing enough. Appreciating the unique flavour here enough. At the same time, I am liking this sub-chapter of our story here, where there is routine. There are friends. There is fitting in more than just gaping at how marvelously different people and places are here than people and places where we are from (though between Matt and I - I am not sure where that would be anymore).