Heading home

I'm from a small rural village in the highlands of Scotland. I grew up just outside of the village. I left Scotland when I was 19 and moved to Ireland for a year then to Slovakia after that. When I cast my mind back to Scotland or tell my kids (students) about it the things coming out my mouth seem so strange, then I start to wonder is it like that? or have I cartooned the idea of my homeland in my head?

I have only been back to Scotland a handful of times after leaving. This is mainly because my friends and family like to come out here for the lovely weather, outside dining and plus it's a little cheaper! On going home I will get to be reunited with one of my sister, Ezra. I don't see either of my sisters as much as I would like. It's quite hard because we all live in different counties. That is a real downside of travel.

 I tell the kids about men in kilts, bagpipes and of Nessie herself. I tell the kids of the cold wind that chills you to the bone, a far cry from the scorching 30 plus degrees here. I talk of the rain like an old friend and tell the kids even at Christmas it can rain. I tell them of tall mountains where the cooper orange, deep greens and crisp white snow all meet in harmony. I explain to them that at the bottom of the mountains lies the sea where the water twinkles dancing with the rain, or how some days the weather is so stormy the waves come crashing onto the road.

 I tell them how the people have messy red hair that flies in the wind and the little freckles on their noses and that they wear welly boots. How sometimes we go to the shop in our pyjamas. I show them haggis and highland cows. I teach them some of our traditional dances and let the bagpipes fill the room (just in case they ever go to a celidh). I talk of Scotland like its a mythical magic place despite growing up there. My kids sit and listen about the tractors going along the windy roads. How we drive on the different side of the road and when I go back home and get into my mums car there's a steering wheel in front of me because I am used to the other side.

The idea that trams are now more familiar to me rather than tractors is something I wouldn't have imagined all those years ago. I couldn't imagine going to the shop in my pyjamas anymore. It's quite sad that I have let the little bits melt away, my environment has gone from a village to a capital city. I don't think I have ever seen anyone walking around in pyjamas here.

Little things I still find odd. No one wears welly boots, not even in the snow! Or in 27 degrees people are comfortably in jackets. Or when it rains everyone takes shelter and they keep their umbrellas open indoors! I have found myself becoming very comfortable with living in a city with everything at my fingertips, Need a pint of milk? No worries. Want to wizz to my friends flat just jump on a tram? They are every couple of minutes. Where as before it would be a few miles walk to my friends house (I am making Scotland sound really barren here, it's not I promise) When I talk of home and my little village I describe it as a faraway land, something you might read in a book. Whenever I am on a trip and I see the sea I am transported for a brief second straight back there. 

After I booked my plane ticket to move back to Scotland I felt a overwhelming sense of joy at the idea of going back to this mythical land.

 I wonder if it is as I remember?