And the era ends...

Just tomorrow morning and I will be away to America. The packing is as finished as it can be until it is time to catch the Airlink to the Edinburgh airport. As we loaded a couple of suitcases, Matt and I couldn't help but realize how amazing that this year is leaving us with less than we started. It is turning out to be remarkably easy to fit what we have left. Thanks to the merciless exchange rate, we really have acquired very little (teapot, vase, book, pair of wellies and two magnets) to show as mementos for our time here. So many clothes are ending up "binned" or being given to a charity shop as they are showing significant signs that they were always worn under a backpack or rained on constantly. In some ways we are limping home a bit but what better way to show a well carpe diemed year than wearing out just about everything you own?

This last week has certainly been filled some of my favourite things and people to help me feel ready to "get on" with things. This included a BBQ on Portobello beach with the Adams and Mr. Campbell-Cobb.

And would you believe those housekeepers got me outfitted with a box of those delightful Tunnock's Teacakes and my very own Tunnock's Teacake apron! How well do they know me?!

To be sure, a true highlight had to be my adventure up to Arthur's Seat with my dear friend Aneta. We picnicked on Polish crisps, this gorgeous pineapple and almond cheese on oat crackers, olives, avocados and Hit biscuits. When getting to the top, we shared a very "Aneta moment" when she whipped out a bubble wand to celebrate a great year of friendship. "You know Cate, we celebrate your leaving Edinburgh with bubbles....not "bubbly" because you are Mormon. But bubbles!" When taking pictures of this whimsical event over the city Aneta laughed, "Cate you must post these pictures on facebook with song Forever Young".

If there was ever a song to describe this delightful Polish lass, it would for sure Forever Young. So grateful she shared all kinds of young-at-heart moments with me. How I will miss her calling me "Kashka", her (should have been) Polish sister. Seems like just last week she was chatting away at me on my second day at work, while lugging enormous linen bags with her wee frame. "You know Cate, when we work together it is like you have Polish radio". She is a one of a kind so I know there isn't going to be a thing like her wherever I go but how marvelous that this year gave me the surprise gift that is Aneta. Having much to miss means that there was much given.

So how to say goodbye to a place that gave us such a unique, brief but intense chapter to our lives? Closure seems to come in waves for me. Part of me has this frantic compulsion that I need to do everything "one last time" and make it more meaningful and memorable than ever before. Walk through all my favourite areas of town, run my running route, see every single person that has made my year here memorable, etc etc. But that is an overwhelming business to be in, especially when I feel like these last few years have been such a constant transition. Great relief comes in the realization that the memory of a place, person or event here is often enough to say farewell. That is to say, some things don't need to be done "one last time". The first or the routine experiences of it along the way were the significant parts to it. Nothing really needs to be added I think. And so I say goodbye to my year of living Scottishly. Much love and cheers.

A Journey through Skye

What to say about Skye? There is so much really. It was almost upsetting how much of it that I wasn't able to explore. In that way, and in others I will mention along the way, taking a three day holiday there was almost like a microcosm of this year long adventure here in Edinburgh. What I will say for Skye is that I am have not a doubt in my mind that God created it on the same day he did the Sawtooths, the Wasatch Front, and Barton Creek Spring. In spite of how brief my visit was, it quickly established itself as a place that I imagine will pull at me if I ever chance smell the heavenly combination of rain, sea and pine or hear the a low rumbling of thunder overhead of bleating sheep.

Our holiday began in the wee (but almost alarmingly light hours) of the morning. The moment we stepped outside of our flat to catch our 4:50am train at Waverly Station, the rain started to dot the pavement. By the time we made it to our "Caledonian Sleeper", we were wet up the knees of our trousers. In spite of the inclination I had to be frustrated, how could I expect anything different when heading to the West coast of Scotland? Matt and I dozed off and on during our trip up to Fort William being awoken occasionally by pines scraping the top of the train to look out the window and watch the landscape become increasingly rugged and the weather moodier.

From Fort William we picked up our poetic "Jacobite Steam Train" to take us the rest of the way to Mallaig. This was Matt's touch to the planning. If it's going to be a long trip up, might as well take the scenic route. It provided some inspiring views and fun touches along the way.

In Mallaig we realized Matt was in desperate need to be outfitted with some rain gear. Thus began the short life of our green poncho pics. After we had lunch of PBJs and then onto a ferry that took us over to Skye.

Once checking into our spartan but tidy *Bayview Hostel in Portree, we thought in spite of the merciless rain, it was time for a wander about the town. There were all kinds of views and treasures along the way including finding rabbits running crazy-cute through an astonishingly green field and dolphins jumping around boats moored in close to the shore. Poor Matt's poncho, however, was already nearing the end as apparent in the flappy shreds of his hood seen below.

Planning for the next day turned out to be a discouraging affair. Though we had scoped out the bus system ahead of time, we didn't realize how evenly spaced out each bus would be. With only three routes run a day for each area, there seemed only time for one great adventure and then being dropped off for a 2nd (with no way back to Portree besides hitch-hiking). But there was so much to see and we hadn't the funds for a car rental!

Alas, we resigned ourselves to taking the ambition down a notch and planned a morning hike up to Old Man of Storr in the morning then a rush back to try and make it out to the famous Eilean Donan castle. The hike was glorious and without a doubt the highlight of my trip. The midges were fierce and the weather threatening  but I couldn't have been closer to heaven. Just look for yourself!

So with that high, came a plummet when we completely missed our bus (thus scratching our brilliant plan) out to Eilean Donan due to a complete misunderstanding of how to read the unbelievably counter-intuitive bus schedule. Another tick for how this trip was a microcosm of time in Edinburgh. A great adventure or discovery is usually followed by a moment of utter frustration (I don't understand this country! Why don't they do things this ______ way?) and feelings of complete incompetence. 

Though with that familiar brilliant-plan-failure feeling, comes this incredible ability to cope. So we bounced back by having a good picnic of homemade sandwiches and crisps, then booking a wildlife tour through the Portree bay (notice Matt's new and improved raincoat. Still cheap but not as prone to shred or becoming billowy in a windy storm as that of the green poncho).

This was followed by a wee rest, some chipy (along with some terrible fishcakes that I had great fun pelting mangy seagulls with) and a hike around the shores, putting us back on top.

So we hit up Eilean Donan the next day (thanks to our new bus schedule savvy-ness). And it was a marvel - truly lived up to its photogenic reputation.

I would be interested in learning what the story was behind these wooden sea creatures in the shadows. Indeed, after encountering the campy touches and wax figure reenactments inside, Matt and I were validated in our resignation in being too cheap to pay to get into any other castle until this one (that is for this whole last year mind you). Still the views offered were worth our student fare.

We journeyed backwards a piece to Kyle of Lochalsh to be ready for our 5:15 train. To pass the time we had ourselves a serving of Cullen Skink (the best so far we've had) and took a ride on a genuine glass bottom boat through the bay.

This gave us a chance to get some better views of the only bridge connecting Skye to the mainland, a lovely Stevenson lighthouse, get a real aquarium experience and a close encounter with the seals. To think the sun came out long enough to burn our faces and necks less than 400 miles south of Iceland! Perfect finish.

Finally the train ride back. Such a long trip back - 7 hours. To begin, we were buzzing with euphoria as we watched the intense mountain and seascape pictorial scenes zipping by our window from Kyle of Lochalsh to Inverness. Then followed this subtle feeling of despondency, as if it was the saddest thing that I wouldn't be able to stay and see more of this place. I was just getting the hang of this whole adventure. How upsetting that it was over so quick. However, long journeys can have an interesting effect for closure. As the landscape became tamer and as night settled in, I started to get anxious to return. Suddenly I began to see (and to be honest smell) how dirty my clothes were. I became aware of how much I needed a good shower, haircut, and some clothes that didn't have fuzzy spots where my backpack rubs. By the time the train pulled into Edinburgh Haymarket station at a few ticks past midnight, Matt and I were utterly fed up with the drunks that had hopped onto our last train and were practically running home past the ribald NEDS in the street. We couldn't think of anything better than coming home.

Adventuring cool places, at this "student-salary" stage of life takes a toll and sometimes you don't realize it until it's time to return. This a good thing to have realized just over a week before I have to get on the plane that will take me back from whence I came. Transitions can be a tricky business but it turns that a really intense (both with ups and downs) holiday can bring you to terms with almost everything you need to be ready for the next step.

*In spite of the exhausting format of a hostel we were lucky to be paired up both nights with good roommates. The first night we got a good hour chat with an Aussie and English couple and then the next night with a couple of Canadians lads who had an unbelievable enthusiasm for 80s action films - giving Matt and them loads to talk about. 

One Last Caledonian Adventure...

At 4am tomorrow (thank goodness it gets light here so early) Matt and I will commence our final Caledonian adventure. It will be a wee three day excursion through Isle of Skye, from what I have seen it could have been weeks if we had the time and funds to explore the outer Hebrides. It should be a mighty 3 days though! Many things on the itinerary which I will save details about until we have the pictures and anecdotes to go along with them. Stay tuned for that...

In the meantime, let me post this lovely folksong my dear Welsh sea-faring friend at the pool shared with me this morning. After telling him I would be away for the rest of the week, he wished me calm seas, a "midgey-free" holiday and let me in on this beautiful song.

Don't know much history behind it except that it refers to the Bonny Prince Charlie who was taken to Skye on a boat to keep him safe. I've listened to it several times already and hope to fall asleep with the lyrics stirring my head tonight.


Chorus:
Speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing,
Onward! the sailors cry;
Carry the lad that's born to be King
Over the sea to Skye.

Loud the winds howl, loud the waves roar,
Thunderclaps rend the air;
Baffled, our foes stand by the shore,
Follow they will not dare.

Chorus

Many's the lad fought on that day,
Well the Claymore could wield,
When the night came, silently lay
Dead in Culloden's field.

Chorus

Though the waves leap, soft shall ye sleep,
Ocean's a royal bed.
Rocked in the deep, Flora will keep
Watch by your weary head.

Chorus

Burned are their homes, exile and death
Scatter the loyal men;
Yet ere the sword cool in the sheath
Charlie will come again.

Happy 4th from Scotland!

Though I am living in a land of great freedom and beauty, I did have a few waves of homesickness flood in yesterday. Not to worry though, it turns out that a couple of great friends and a bucket of fried chicken can cure anything that ails ya on the July 4th. A good thing too, because I am learning that you can find great friends and KFC pretty much anywhere in the world.

Going to miss that Edinburgh when she goes away...

So I just bought my ticket "home" from Edinburgh today. People have been asking Matt and I for awhile now when we plan to "head home" and we have had our "end of July or beginning of August" answer handy for the last few weeks. In other words, I knew about how fast the clock was ticking the whole time but there is something about having the flight that makes the thing committal and real. It is interesting because all the sudden, having that ticket, turns the routine into something kind of meaningful. It is the reverse of "feeling too much like a local". What became mundane from living here has taken on a new intensity with the thought that it is among the last times that I will do it. Running in Holyrood, volunteering with the Girlguides (last night was my last activity), meeting with my "IT Buddies" or doing read alouds, going to church, walking around town, spending time with ward members and the YW, doing my early morning swim, even my housekeeping shifts. It's a familiar feeling actually - being that Matt and I have moved 3 times in our 4 married years. Still, it hits just as hard every time and the smallest of things seem to get me emotional in the last couple of days (ie I cried pretty hard after my run today in Holyrood - it was that good of a run in spite of achy legs from a long housekeeping shift).

It is probably no surprise that the most intense thing to leave are the people I have met and the experiences I have shared with them. It never ceases to amaze me where I pick up a good friend - sometimes in the most unexpected of places (and the most unexpected of people).

Here's to the Girlguides! To those crazy-rambunctious Rainbows that modeled proper "etiquette" to me on our tea party activity and taught me how to take a cuppa in grace and style. Of course, there were lots of other good times besides that (ie teaching them how to line dance to "Boot Scootin' Boogie" and making homemade kites).

Here's to my mate Taff Powell - the chattiest, warmest Welshman friend I think I could have asked for. There is something so comforting about knowing every morning when I start a swim around 8am, there will be my friend Taff crawling in the lane next to me. 72 years old and still kicking every morning for 2K Mon-Sun. Loved his company, the Welsh and Gaelic he taught me ("Bori Dah Catie" - "Good Morning Catie") and how he always saved a story for me about his days at sea in the navy or had a Mormon/American question for me before I left the pool.

 (you know he is a good friend when he still takes a moment to talk to me with my post-swim puffy chlorine face and raccoon goggle eyes!)

Here's to the housekeeping team (the Polish dream cleaning team pictured here: Iwona, Justyna and Aneta) along with dear Alan, the soft spoken maintenance man who has just as much of a sweet tooth as me when he gets out his cuppa at the end of his lunch break. I know the lighting doesn't make this place look like much to have lunch but I have to say that it has had some memorable moments which include learning the difference between "tea" (a cuppa at the end of a meal) and "tea" (dinner) or hearing the phrase "scraggy wee bisum" from my boss who apparently breaks into old Scots when she gets angry thinking about a past employee.

Here is to Brother Burns! I met him on the temple trip back in October when he came and stood next to my seat on the bus ride back to help pass the time (and stretch out his aching legs). I knew from the moment he teased me like I imagined my grandfather would have that it was the beginning of something great. One of my favourite lines from him was when Matt gave me a wee kiss on the cheek after sacrament and he leaned over from the pew behind and put his hand on Matt's shoulder and said "Oh, now Matt...don't make me too jealous". Matt and I both agree that he ought to have a calling in the ward as "the ambassador of goodwill" as he is known to make rounds to just about every person in the ward to make them feel loved and appreciated.

And here is to my YW! What a great group of lasses to have shared my Sundays, Tuesday evenings and an eventful but memorable weekend at camp with this last year. Just look at all that personality!

Of course, that isn't an exhaustive list but I thought I would just get out a handful of them while I was thinking of it. I know there is more to miss about this place than I am even thinking of now and will only realize once I get back stateside. This is probably good since I can only handle so much goodbye at once. Feeling sad about leaving something just shows how much great I have been handed in this past year.

Happy Scottish Summer Solstice

Being this far north has its perks at this time of year (though Nov-Feb was rough when it got dark at 3:30 in the evening).

Matt and I like to celebrate the long days with late evening walks, like our 9:30-10:15pm walk last night for FHE. At the beginning of our stroll down Princes Street, we had a brief moment where we got annoyed that the shops "close so early here". Then we remembered that it was about 10pm at night, even if it felt like 5pm. It isn't just the evenings either. Probably what is most surreal is how early it gets light. When light started to pour through our bedroom window beginning at 4:30am, I would get up with a start sometimes thinking I had slept through my alarm. Afterall, I got very accustomed to waking up and walking to work in the 8am dark. It's pay back time though now. The only complaint is that this day had to be so rainy and dim - but I suppose that is part of the deal when you are talking about a Scottish summer...

The Whistle Stop on Dalry Road

A new cafe just went in where the French baguette sandwich place went out of business on Dalry Road. I run past it on my way to the Dalry Swimming Pool several times a week. It caught my eye initially because the window has a list of "American Foods" available on the menu. What luck! I thought. Finally a place where I can get some real BBQ, maybe TexMex, a great hamburger or a slice of apple pie. What American delicacies would they offer? Imagine my disappointment upon reading:

-Sloppy Joes (one of our lowest culinary moments)
-Hot Dogs (do Americans eat these more than the British?)
-"American Cookies"

American cookies? There was hope yet! I peered into the window to get a closer look of what that might be. Maybe some Mrs Field-esque melty chocolate chip monster cookie cakes? Better yet, would they get creative like this Ruby Snap place I hear of in Salt Lake or those long lost Texas wonders from Tiff's Treats? Oh what dismay filled my heart when I looked in and saw a crinkly bag with a stars and stripe flag (worthy of an Eagle Court of Honor clip-art invitation). Across the bag read "American Cookies".

Not even Oreos? Nor E.L. Fudge? Not even some waxy Mother's Cookies?!

I shouldn't complain. There truly is too many good sweets for me to take in here (thank goodness I have to walk to get everywhere!). Just last night I finally got my chance at the famous "Banoffee Pie".

That's right. Bananas and Toffee! With a substantially thick digestive biscuit crumb crust (a la Millionaire Shortcake). Brilliant really - a revelation to be sure. No, indeed there is no need to mourn the Whistle Stop on Dalry Road. But still, sloppy joes...really?

An Anniversary in Edinburgh...

Yesterday Matt and I celebrated 4 years of marital adventure! We commemorated the day with a feast at the ever-popular "Nando's" on Lothian Rd. Yeah, it is a chain restaurant rather than the fancy local places where we have celebrated in the past in Austin and SLC. Still, we decided that splurging our small luxuries fund on a restaurant are for the times when we don't have the novelty of living in Scotland. Indeed, we do have a several day holiday planned through Isle of Skye coming up in just one month time. Best save the wee fund for that this year! And to be sure, this year's celebration was the best I can remember really.

Can you see the excitement on Matt's face about to dig into his Peri Peri chicken, chips and mushy peas as he rolls up his sleeves?

As good as the meal was, I have to confess that the best thing about it was their BOTTOMLESS fountain drinks (with ice nonetheless!). It is a real rarity in these parts to have such free flowing soda fountains, as abundant as you would find in the ol' U.S. of A. I felt like singing The Big Rock Candy Mountain.

Would you believe our blustery, rainy spring Edinburgh lit up with sun for the hour after our dinner? Just long enough to get a picture of us in front of the Princes Street fountain that we pass so often on our walks to campus this year.

That was an event in and of itself as we happened upon three elderly Basque women on holiday to take the picture. We exchanged picture taking services with them since they hadn't gotten one of them altogether and explained with Spanglish and wild hand gestures (turns out that Basque and Argentine Spanish is not as comparable as one might think) our story of being in Edinburgh as they were interested in us being Americans. It was the perfect encounter for the occasion as it added yet one more memorable event in our year long stint here in Edinburgh.

I have to say, when I look back on my 4 married-to-Matt years, that in spite of the fact that they still haven't "hung the jerk who invented work", I have good reason to be singing "The Big Rock Candy Mountain". Truly, life has proven to be "a land that is fair and bright".

Living the Harry Potterlandia Dream....

I am just finishing up the Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone book for the first time. Indeed, until a couple weeks ago I had yet to jump on the HP bandwagon. This was not out of principle or smug defiance to a trend so much as my genuine disinterest in the fantasy fiction genre (the joke between Matt and I is that I steer clear of any book that begins with a map - luckily HP doesn't have that). Still, after taking a children and YA lit course this last semester and seeing it aligned with the "classics" like the delightful Winnie the Pooh, Anne of Green Gables and How to Eat Fried Worms I realized I was only cheating myself at this point. The time had come.

And what an inspiring place I live to commence my long-overdue read! I have long been keen on reading books relevant to the place where I live. I read The Grapes of Wrath while living in Oklahoma for a summer, The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate while living in Texas and Wallace Stegnar in Utah. It isn't just the Britishness of this book that makes it a timely read while in Edinburgh. Edinburgh is its birthplace to be sure. There are loads of HP references here. JK Rowling lives not far from the LDS church in the Polwarth area with a few collegues on "Writer's Block" and the Elephant House coffee shop gets all kinds of business since it was there that Rowling penned her first manuscripts of HP. Though the Elephant House uses the HP birthplace to enhance notoriety, not all places in Edinburgh are as appreciative of their involvement in the series. Many say that the impressive 5* Balmoral Hotel was not at all impressed with Rowling writing the message "Harry Potter was finished here..." on the bottom of a small figurine in the room when the 7th book was completed. Not to be trifled with, the Balmoral passed up the opportunity to make a themed room out of the event or even put the figurine up on something like eBay. Instead they promptly charged Rowling the price of the figure on her bill.

It is not just where the book was written that makes this a particularly fun read here in Edinburgh. There are loads of places which inspired different parts of the book and you happen upon them during a walk in all different areas of town. Just adjacent to the Elephant House is Greyfriar's Cathedral and Kirkyard which aside from being home of the heroic and anecdotal "Greyfriar's Bobby" it also contains graves of such recognizable characters as "William McGonagall", "Tom Riddle" and the like. What is particularly whimsical to me though is having views of Fettes College while making beds on the 3rd floor at the hotel where I work. After a good ariel view of the college, it is no wonder how a place like Hogwarts took shape. And in just a month's time, Matt and I will take a wee trip on the Jacobite steam train from Mallig to Fort William. Yes, this is the train that could be likened to Hogwart's Express, no 9 3/4 platforms necessary though....

So I am curious. What books should you be reading where you live? What inspiring places are around you that result in the imaginative or literary?

Feeling Like a Local...

#15 Having a certain way I "take my tea" and knowing the way Matt does as well. One sugar for me with my Polish raspberry or Chamomile tea and two sugars for Matt with his Twinnings Mint tea.

One great thing about spring and summer weather in Edinburgh: still cool enough in the evening to enjoy a good cuppa. The land of year-round tea drinking:)

EUROvision

Apparently this telly phenomenon has been going on for years but I first heard about it just a month ago while changing bed linens with my Glaswegian housekeeping friend. We were swapping stories about what our favourites have been at cinema this last year and programmes we like to watch. I shared my guilty pleasure in America’s Next Top Model and she confessed she is a devoted Eurovision follower every year.

I was intrigued “What is Eurovision?” 

“Oh it’s brilliant!” She explained that it is like X Factor (American Idol = in these parts) but instead is a one night thing every year where all of Europe has a representative come to sing/dance and compete. Loads of people get curry take-aways that night, throw parties with their friends to watch and vote.

 What luck I had heard about it in time for this year’s competition which took place this last Saturday! And how appropriate it was that I was on the continent to watch it because although Britain competes each year, the Scots are not ones to often consider themselves proper Europeans. Many times before heading on my Holland/Belgium/Germany holiday my co-workers and Girlguiding mates would comment “So are you excited to go on your Europe holiday?” It turns out that I live in the British Isles, not Europe – you have to head to the continent to see a proper European country I guess.

That said, Eurovision great fun. Though there was no curry involved, there were plenty of sweets from Germany and Belgium while kicking back on our last night here and watching each country sing and dance.  I have to admit that although there was a completely different tone to the whole thing, the concept did not stray too far from a strange movie I once saw called “The Saddest Music in the World”. While I didn’t finish watching the whole thing I will add my 2 pence about what I fancied about the acts I did see. Italy had good reason to come in 2^nd place, Britain’s boy band was an utter disappointment, it turns out that there was something oddly compelling about Ireland’s famous Jedward twins (though their performance had airs of 3^rd Reich at times) but the all time favourite of the evening has to go to Moldova. I think this video speaks for itself….

“I never think of Moldova.” I mentioned, somewhat embarrassed, to Matt in passing when they were announced to come next. 

Matt and I couldn’t stop laughing while watching it though. In Matt’s words, “This is perfect! I mean, for all I know this is very traditional for them.” Could be a ‘had to be there’ type of thing but at any rate, it was great fun and it added to the list of why it is great to live four seasons in a new place like Europe…er I mean the British Isles….

Oh and congrats to Azerbaijan for taking home the Eurovision glory this year! 

When it feels good to be homesick...

Well the grand adventure to the continent is at an end. Since the last installment we made our way out of the land of the tulips by touring the Claus Windmill. Perhaps one of the most fascinating things about this windmill that is still operating to grind flour and mix all the goods and spices to make those marvelous “speculaas” cookies , is that it has been operated by the same family for 5 generations. What luck that one of them is Mormon and offered to enrich our travels when talking with them at church! Here's a pic of the missionaries enjoying the tour along with us.

So whimsical and fun!

It was impressive to see how the cogs and wheels of this 18^th century technology could still work and often by the same measures as it had before (note in the picture the hanging pig lard that is used grease rusty parts).

What made this place a dream was the shop below that sold all kinds of windmill ground mixes of cookies, breads and other Dutch delectables. 

Onward we went to Brussels where we ate our fill of chocolate and “moules et frites” at La Grande Place.

Then Bruges where we walked around some neat Mediterranean architecture and then got yelled at by the Belgian waffle lady for mixing up our order. Indeed, this was our token traveling experience where we ended up getting accused of being American. What a laugh! To be sure, there was still plenty of good times had by all and even a few inside jokes between Lori and I. You had to be there….

Then we headed south to Stuttgart where we stayed with a foreign exchange student that the Sweeneys hosted about 13 years ago. There were of course some great sites to see on foot around Stuttgart and more interesting adventures in Munich where we tried their unique white sausage (Weisswurst) in the Victorian Market and then took a walking tour of the city’s many sites. I was particularly taken in by the English Garden (larger than Central Park!) which was full of surprises, including nudity tolerance (why is it always fat, older men that take advantage of nudist parks/beaches?) 

and their surfing wave installed in the park’s wee river.

Still, the company and food was the most noteworthy part of the visit. Turns out nothing makes a better combination than a Serbian family who has learned the art of German cooking. Great culinary things happen when these worlds collide!

As the 10 day stint has come to an end I have been fighting the homesick feeling for several days now. I think it was offset by a handful of ribald young Brits who got onto the same canal cruise boat as us in Bruges. Most of them were on board while we were getting ready to leave when a straggler from their group arrived holding two 1 litre bottles of ale in each hand. One of the red-faced friends of his in the back shouted “Sorry mate but there is no beer allowed on the boat. The Belgian guy just told me.” The straggler looked down at the bottles and muttered “Well I wish you would have told me that before I bought this!” He shrugged then hopped on the boat, his hefty frame tilting the small boat back and forth while his friends all shouted and teased him from the back. It must have been their outspoken and distinctly British humour that got to me. It seemed so familiar after having that out of place feeling that is inevitable during any kind of travels. That event coupled with the fact that every time a German had to break down and talk me through a transaction in English they ended with a “cheers” (no doubt not knowing an American accent from a British one) made me increasingly homesick for Edinburgh.  Would you believe the heat and sun even overwhelmed at times and made me pine for the cool and moody weather from Scotland? Sure sign that it is time to head home…