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04.20.2006

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09.06.2004 | 1 2

People back home are always telling me how jealous they are that for the next couple of years, I get to live in Scotland.  For most Americans, Scotland’s a postcard-perfect picture of quaint romance, all castles and kilts and moody green hills. “You’re soooo lucky!” they squeal. And I know they’re right. So I’m not asking you to whip out the violins when I whisper: I’m feeling a bit blue out here.

I’m a little embarrassed to admit this, because I know how fortunate I am to have this life of mine, and I don’t want to be one of those lame people who can’t cope with anything other than what they already know. But everything feels strange. I feel strange. And I can’t help wondering, is this the fun I’m supposed to be having? 

The thing is, there’s a reason more Americans don’t pick up and move out of that great big ol’ country we call home: moving abroad is a heck of a lot of work, with just a lil’ bit of scary thrown in for good measure. I’m not saying it’s a good enough reason to avoid ever leaving home, but it’s true nonetheless.  And right now, a couple of weeks into my two year stint in Edinburgh, I’m feeling a little lost.

Don’t get me wrong: Edinburgh is an utterly charming city. I love the way its cobblestone streets, big brooding castle, and fairy-tale-adorable old stone buildings play backdrop to just about every amenity you could ask for in modern-day life (barring free wi-fi – a convenience I’m sorely missing right now, as I shell out £1.50 an hour for the privilege of getting connected to the outside world). There’s tons to see and plenty to do, and despite how much everyone grumbles about the weather, it's not nearly as beastly as one might imagine. People are genuinely kind, and funny, and helpful. This is a very likable city. Only one problem: it’s not home.

To be honest, I’m not sure where home is for me right now. It’s sort of Tucson, the desert town I lived in for the past six years; it’s sort of Boston, where I grew up and went to school. And it’s kinda neither of those places too. But what it’s definitely not is where I am right now, in a city that’s a vast ocean away from just about everyone I know, where I’m constantly asking idiotic questions because I’m mystified by the way things actually work ‘round these parts.

Today, I had the following brilliant intellectual debate with a girl stocking shelves at the supermarket.

Me: “Excuse me, do you carry chocolate chips?”

Girl (looking at me as I’m speaking another language): I’m sorry?

Me (enunciating carefully): Chocolate chips. Or, um, whatever you call them here. Small pieces of chocolate that you can put in cookies. Do you call them cookies? Anyway, chocolate bits for baking.

Girl (now looking at me like I’ve sprouted a second head): I’m not sure? Maybe the baking goods area?

Me (confused as to whether she’s not sure what chocolate chips are, or if they have them, or where they might be; at any rate, I’ve already checked out the baking section and know for sure they’re not there, though if I want mincemeat filling, I apparently have a wealth of options): Um, thanks.

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