The American posse, Mean Girls, and the people of Scotland.

A few days after we arrived and a few days after going full ham on getting the flat together, I felt the ugliness of a meltdown coming on. Obviously I have been away from home for more than a week before, but this time it was not just a vacation, it was a mini move and we would be here for three months. I was still excited but reality was also hitting me. Well, that and a few adjustments that the UK has versus the luxuries I was already missing from the US.

 I had a washer, which is located in my kitchenette, but no dryer. Ooof. Amazon, which I am not sure how I ever lived without before, is not quite as big here and shipping was for sure not overnight. You mean we had to actually go out and shop around for things? No plugs in the bathroom, which I encountered in Ireland, meant blow drying my hair in my room with a small little mirror. Also, why am I bothering to "do" my hair? Determination my friend, determination. Scotland weather won't beat me. 

So, it was a Sunday, the breakdown was looming over me and David suggested we go to a local church. We have an amazing church at home, so this was a strange concept of possibly having two, but I was open to it. I put on my three layers of clothing, put on my Mary Jane Doc Martens (the most churchy shoes I had, ha!) and away we went. Now, it is no secret that David is the extrovert of the two of us. He will talk to anyone at anytime and in fact he gets a little sad if he doesn't make friends wherever he goes. He has that gift. Me, on the other hand, will look down when walking around because I am purposely trying to not make eye contact or have to say hello. He is Southern and I am Californian, enough said.  Honestly, this is not because I am not a nice person, but rather someone who likes to get to know someone on my own time, whose self confidence is a little lackluster, and who is more of an observer. Once I know you however, I can talk a ton about things I am passionate about, you are passionate about, and I will listen to you with full attention (unless a dog or any animal is near, then I could care less what you are saying. I know my friends just hollored "ain't that the truth!") 

We walk about 10 minutes to this little church called Tayside Christian Fellowship. Now, I am absolutely not exagerrating with what happened next, and I will not use names for my new Scottish friends because truth be told, I can't remember their names, but we can say it is for privacy purposes. David goes ahead of me and holds the door open and I literally had one Doc Marten through the door and the tiniest little Scottish lady exclaims "Oh! You are new here, aren't you? Come in, come in!" David was smiling ear to ear and eating up the sweet greeting while I was terrified that small talk was in my future. Also, my closest friends are privy to all my ailments and without being graphic as this is only my second blog with everyone, I can just say that I have a nervous stomach and well stressful situations make me very aware of where the restrooms are at all times. So here we are barely into the building and our little Scottish grandma is ushering us into the congregation and my stomach is singing the song of it's people. We take our seats and as if they came straight out of heaven themselves, we are cornered by more of the littliest ladies. They immediately knew we were not from town, which is funny really because if you have seen pics I have posted, then you see how David blends here perfectly. Just the same, we are swarmed with questions about where we came from, why are we here, how long are we here, and we are told there are other Americans in the congregation. Immediately I felt comfort, which is ridiculous because everyone has been absolutely kind and we wanted to immerse ourselves with the culture and people, but knowing there were "others" gave me comfort. 

I am hands down convinced that anything said with a British accent sounds better than any other accent. The pastor is from England and he could have been reading  a dictionary and we all were completely enthralled. 

The service concluded (a great one too!) and about this time is when I head out, coat flapping in the wind and I drag David with me. However, the sweet lady who all but adopted us, was determined we stay after for their tea and coffee time concluding the service. Lordy, this meant mingling and that terrifies me. We were lead into a room where everyone was congregating and having tea and biscuits (cookies) and David asked to be introduced to the other Americans. Like the sweet cruise director she was, our little lady found them all and brought them over. Immediately my body relaxed and the conversation commenced. One guy asked what town we were from and we said "Willamsburg" because no one knows about Toano, duh! Then this guy says "oh, I lived in Hampton for a while and my dad lives in Mathews" Who in the halibut goes to Scotland and meets an American who has family in Mathews, Virginia!!?? Why does anyone purposely live in Mathews? I was dying. The pastors wife is from Montana and we had some Texans among us as well. Here we were, talking about all the adjustments of living in Scotland, the cultural changes, and the wonders ... just an American posse huddled in the corner of the tea room. Little lady number one smiled from the other side of the room knowing she helped all the Americans find one another that day, and she helped me defeat my meltdown. She was a Scottish angel from heaven.

Speaking of a posse, there is a group, or a gang if you will, that wander the streets of Perth that absolutely terrify me. They are teenage girls between the age of fourteen to seventeen and they will flat rip you to shreds. I will paint a picture of what they look like. They all have leggings on, trainers (that's tennis shoes to you and I), fitted t-shirts and the one thing that sets them apart from the younger counterparts - black cropped leather jackets. They all match and clearly they know to not go outside this dress code and wear a t-shirt that is not the same color. "On Wednesdays we wear pink" comes to mind, except it's a white or grey shirt. Their hair is bone straight, parted down the middle, with the other posse symbol being huge fake eyelashes overtaking their eyes. Fun fact, you can purchase your fake eyelashes from a vending machine here in the mall. Yes, there are malls here and I do love the nostalgia of that. It is no secret that the sun does not come out much in Scotland, so the lack of tans on people are apparent. The difference is, that in the states we get a spray tan or a healthy dose of vitamin D and we tan gradually (well, we should anyway), but not with the leather jacket gang. They apply self tanner and bronzer so thick on their faces that their white necks are glowing even on a gloomy day. I am not shaming them and in fact they may think I apply my makeup like a weirdo. That's fair! Nonetheless, they never travel alone and are always found in packs and they wander the streets with nothing but pure confidence. The old saying "cusses like a sailor" has a whole new meaning and should be replaced with "cusses like a Scottish teenager". These little tan gangs will take the F word and make sure it fits in every other word out of their mouths whether it belongs there or not. For the record, my mouth is not always saintly and I have been known to drop the bomb from time to time. I am human! I am flawed! But dang, these girls could put the biggest cusser you know to shame. Meanwhile, their male companions seem so fragile and lost next to them. I do not know this to be certain, but when I encountered a pack of the these girls in the bathroom, I was literally frozen when I walked in. They all stopped and looked at me and I smiled with my red lips and pasty white skin and asked if they were waiting for a stall. With almost zero expression and a glare from under those lashes, one of them looked up answered "nah". Alrighty then, carry on. I pity the poor boys in high school here. I admire the girls with their confident walk and stature, and their ability to look as though they will take nothing from anyone, but in the end all I want to do is wash their mouths out with soap. Man, I am getting old. 

I have been to Ireland twice now and without hesitstion I can tell you that the Irish are jovial, natural story tellers (and they do not leave out any single detail). They are total jokesters, a bit rowdy, and also very happy to have you visit their country. With David's gift of gab and detailed stories that always make me want to tell him to get to the point already, I was astonished his DNA did not come back at 98 % Irish. I believe his spit was tampered with in the lab. Anyway, I was not sure what to expect from the Scottish. As I mentioned before, would they think it was cool having us here or would they be annoyed Americans were trudging through thelir idyllic towns? We have already visited some spectacular towns and we have encountered some amazing characters. For instance, the man sitting behind the counter at the train station. In keeping with Scottish theme, picture the goblin working at Gringotts Wizarding Bank from Harry Potter. This goblin was in charge of our transportation and I am pretty sure he heard our accents and he was done with us before we were able to win him over with our charm. He had no desire to help or explain things and in fact stared at us blankly, for what felt like an eternity. I may or may not have been "that American" and snapped. I was not charming. Despite the goblin, we have the lady who checked us out as Asda (their version of Walmart and in fact owned by Walmart). She was Glaswegian (from Glasgow) and she was incredibly friendly and asked where we were from. She knew of Virginia because she had lived in Florida. In her Glaswegian accent which I can only maybe compare to our strongest southern accent but grittier, she proceeded to excidely tell us about her time in Florida, and bless her, we did not understand anything she was saying with the exception of "alligators". Now she mentioned those alligators many times, but what she was saying about them, well we have no idea. She was speaking English and we could not understand! We smiled and laughed and nodded our heads with animation and told her it was nice to meet her. She was a sweetheart and I firmly believe she moved back to Scotland to get away from alligators. The Scots also have many fun words and expressions. Our fun travel agent here (yes, apparently that is still a thing and we booked a trip to Prague) loved to say "ehmmmm?" which would be equivelant to us saying "uum" or "like" (think valley girl) If they are unsure, pausing or questioning something then it is always a long "ehmmmm". If something is beautiful then it is "bonnie", and of course if something small or cute then it is "wee". I might take that word home with me. I use "no worries" all the time, my whole life really, and I always felt like it was a west coast saying, but I have learned it is extremely common here too. In fact, I believe the Scots truly mean it. They just seem to not be as frazzled or entitled as Americans can be. They are warm and kind and helpful and funny. They are proud of their country, as they should be, and they are cheeky. We have fallen in love with them already. Perhaps the goblin will grow on us too.