Just Now

I'm taking a break from the past to write the present. And thereby, the future! Kidding. Okay, on to the recently passed now, which is technically then, and certainly then once you read this now, which is later.

Made for city life, I still appreciate a great escape now and again. This last weekend a friend invited me to hang out with her family in their village. Village life is definitely slower and quieter, but it's charming, cozy and comfortable. It's also an any entirely culture from what the city has.

My friend's village is nestled in the Scottish countryside about an hour out of town, so I hopped a bus in the evening and watched the city slowly melt away. Gently rolling hills stretched out as far as I could see in every shade of green. Stone walls, sheep by the score and some cows dotted the landscape-- pretty much exactly what I imagine when I think British countryside. Except for the rain. I didn't imagine quite so much of it, seeing as how Seattle is known for its rainy weather-- I have certainly met its equal. I also met an American on the bus, and it took me a while to recognize her accent. Weird.

The village has doubled in size since Yvonne was a kid and now boasts something along the line of 4,000. We ducked through small streets and around stone houses to the house of her mom, an incredibly sweet, hospitable woman who was in the process of preparing dinner. Only they called it tea and when the pudding came out, it wasn't at all what I expected. Pudding is a very broad term in Scotland and never means the same as what we call pudding in America.

That night we went to the only pub in the village. Pub culture remains a novelty, because I don't know of anything in American quite like it. We don't often have local hang outs where you go on a regular basis to meet and talk to people you didn't come with. There are pubs, and I suppose you can become a regular anywhere, but it's different (I mentioned this to a friend, and she pointed out that at Cheers, everybody is supposed to know your name).

The next morning we ran to the shop and Yvonne took care of breakfast-- french toast and sausage. She asked if I wanted ketchup or brown sauce, or maybe some smooth pickle (it's a sauce), and I assumed she meant for the sausages. Then I asked for syrup. You know, for the french toast, but both friend and mother found it a completely alien request. Apparently Scots do, in fact, have french toast with ketchup.

Village life was charming and quiet, full of cottages and gardens, a lot of food and people who seemed to know everyone. The rest of the weekend was a lot of exploring the area surrounding the village, all of which was lush and greener than any place I've ever seen. There have been a number of brilliant days, but otherwise it's raining.. The sky is a conflict between dark clouds and blue sky, and the scenery is always very big and wild. It feels ancient, and full of secrets.