I stared at the email, having trouble
believing what I was reading was true. I
tore upstairs to tell my mom the news: there had been a cancellation by another
student, freeing up a space, and my application had been accepted! If I could get everything ready, in two weeks
I would be in Scotland to participate in a six-month school program with Youth
With a Mission! If this was to happen,
there was much to consider and do in such a short time frame. I had only been working at my coffee shop for
a short number of months, but it was a job I loved and did not wish to lose. I also had a couple of relationship
dilemmas. A strained friendship needed
mending and I was struggling to understand the fledgling romantic relationship
I found myself on the verge of entering.
But Scotland and the unknown called!
I let everyone know and threw myself into preparing for the trip. Those two hectic weeks flew by, and before I
knew it, I was preparing to board a plane that was taking me to one of the most
pivotal seasons in my life.
As the plane flew over Scotland,
I stared in disbelief at the land below me.
It was green down there.
Green. In January. Where was the snow? It was the first of many differences I was to
experience on my first solo trip overseas. Despite my initial excitement upon my
acceptance into the school, I was not truly excited during the flight. The flight to Scotland from Alaska was a
grueling nineteen hours, leaving me drained.
I disembarked from the plane and made it through customs (and the
unsmiling custom officials) without a hitch, though my step was slow. I manhandled my large, black suitcase from
the conveyor belt and plopped my carry-on on top of it to make it easier to
transport. I had a bus to catch.
I made it to the bus stop
without a problem, barely noticing my surroundings, but getting on the bus was
pure travail. While the stair entry was
spacious, it was divided by a handrail, which drastically narrowed the space. My suitcase was wide enough that it would not
fit easily in the narrow space and my carry-on and tired clumsiness helped
compound the difficulty. I struggled to
get my bag up on the bus and fell. My
face heated up in embarrassment, and tears of exhaustion threatened when I
looked up to discover the entire busload of passengers watching me, but no one willing
to come to my aid. After what seemed an
interminable time, I managed to get on the bus with my luggage, with no help
from anyone around me, and pay my fare.
Scotland was not giving me a wonderful first impression.
I left the bus at the Paisley
train station, once again without help.
I went to the ticket window and purchased a one-way ticket to West
Kilbride. From there, I made my way to
my platform. I had been warned about the
stairs, but I was still caught by surprise.
For some reason, I thought the stairs would be narrow and steep, maybe
even a spiral, but I was not expecting the very wide staircase before me that
seemed to climb to the heavens. No
wonder I was warned. I just stared at
the stairs, and then at my bags. I had
to carry my luggage up this monster staircase and I just did not know if I had
the energy.
I squared my shoulders, took a
deep breath, and prepared to heft my suitcase and carry-on. Just as I grabbed the handles, I heard a soft
Scottish voice offer to grab my suitcase for me. I looked up to see the ticket seller standing
next to me. Without another word, he
grabbed my suitcase and carried it up the incredibly tall staircase and to my
platform. I thanked him gratefully. Maybe the Scots were nicer than the
passengers on the bus had led me to believe.
I drooped tiredly over my luggage, trying to stay awake as I waited for
my train. An elderly Scottish lady came
up to me and asked if I would watch her bags for her while she went to use the
loo. After she returned, we chatted
until the train came. Scotland was
starting to look a bit more pleasant, and being able to take the time to enjoy
the Scottish bur in the woman’s voice helped considerably.
The train ride was a blur. My eyes were focused intently on the
darkening landscape, paying attention to the station signs as they went past in
an effort to not miss my stop. I barely
registered the beautiful views of the waves crashing against the shore as the
sun sank or the picturesque Scottish villages the train rumbled through. I fought to keep my eyes open and to tamp
panic down, for I did not know what waited for me in West Kilbride. It was not clear if I was going to be met at
the station, or if it was necessary for me to call a taxi or walk to the
school. I was exhausted and growing
increasingly nervous. Now that I had
landed in this foreign land, I was starting to wonder if I was supposed to be
there and just what it was I thought I was doing. My eyelids kept drooping, my body swayed with
the smooth rhythm of the train, which encouraged my already tired body to let
go and slumber. Just as I thought I
would not be able to remain awake any longer, the train arrived at my stop.
I got off the train with a
minimal fuss and looked around, not sure what I was looking for. A man waved at me. He was slightly heavy-set and not too much
taller than me. He approached, and in a
British accent, queried after my identity.
When I confirmed my identity, he informed me that his name was Lee and
he was there to take me to the school.
My shoulders sagged in relief. My
journey was almost over. Lee took my
bags from me and stowed them in the boot of the car. Once everything was loaded, we drove to the
school.
The school stood on top of a
hill, overlooking the school grounds, the village, and the sea. The building was beautiful and grand to
me. Through a young foreigner’s
uneducated eyes, it seemed like a castle, though in reality it had once been a
convalescence home. Either way, the
building was old and beautiful and the grounds were lush… and green. Even in my tired state, I could not get over
how green everything was in January. I
already found myself missing snow. As Lee pulled into the parking lot, I drank
in the surrounding scenery and massive building.
Once the car was parked and unloaded,
I was ushered into the school building.
I was led to a flight of stairs and told that my room was at the
top. I stared in dismay at a set of
stairs that threatened to put the train station stairs to shame. I stiffened my resolve. My eldest brother had warned me that when I
traveled, I should only pack what I could carry, for I could not rely on help. To
prove to him and to myself that I could do it, I turned down an offer of help,
and carried my luggage up the two long flights of stairs. I managed to make it up without dropping
anything or falling on my face. Once at
the top, I followed my guide past the other rooms from which popped the heads
of the other female students as they checked out the new arrival. I was shown my room and informed that there
would be a meeting in just a little bit to greet all of the new students. While I stowed my luggage away, I exchanged
introductions with my two roommates: one a fellow American from Seattle, the
other a woman originally from Holland, but living in Spain for the past decade. All of the excitement and wonder that I had
expected to hit me once I arrived at my destination had not arrived yet. Instead, I grew increasingly nervous,
wondering if I had made a huge mistake.
What did I think I was doing? Why did I think I should go to Scotland for
six months, leaving my family, friends, recently acquired job, and a new,
tenuous romantic relationship behind? I
was tired, nervous, and second guessing myself.
I had always wanted to travel, and my appetite for it had been whetted
when my parents and I made a trip to the United Kingdom just two years prior. I wanted to be at this school in Scotland, but
was starting to wonder if I was supposed to be here.
When the time for the greeting
meeting arrived, I made my way downstairs with the others. We all found seats in the chairs, couches,
and pillows that were spread throughout the large room. I barely noticed the large windows looking
out over the darkened garden, focusing instead on Lee, who was standing in front
of the group. Lee stared solemnly at us
and said, “There are those of you that doubt whether you are should be
here. I want to let you know that you
are all supposed to be here. Welcome to
Scotland.” Relief flowed through me, the
excitement that I had been waiting for finally arrived, and I knew that I was
not going to leave Scotland as the same person who had stumbled in.
