A Month in Review

Wow. I have been here a month. It's hard to believe really, but at the same time it feels like I've been here forever. Every time I use words like 'flat', 'takeaway' and 'wee' I feel like a jackass. I haven't adopted the accent yet (the use of the word yet is extremely important) and I hope to god I never EVER sound like a true Aberdonian. Good god. I mean it's all well and good but most of the time it just sounds like they are vomiting up their nose. Anyway. Besides all that I have had an excellent, difficult and surprising month. A month of friends, moving, parties, Marks and Spencer, men, battling the north sea winds and rain, job hunting till I went cross eyed and sausage rolls. Ahhhh the sausage rolls.

And at the end of it, what do I have? A job. That's right people, I am officially a working woman in Scotland--making an income if only to further my Marks and Spencer addiction and my worryingly increasing tolerance to alcohol (used to be 2 pints and I was good and gone...now it takes a bit of work. A bit depressing, that). Next on the list, an apartment. Now that I am a part of the world of pay checks I am looking for a new flat (see, I STILL feel like a jackass even typing it!) come January so I can stop living out of a suitcase and start putting things into proper drawers. Ha. My drawers will have drawers. Oh shut up Emily.

After that: a proper gym pass that lets me go whenever I want, and none of this 'peak' or 'off peak' nonsense. Honestly! Why can't I go to the gym past 4 pm? What is wrong with this system!?

Then, I am determined to find a proper yoga studio, one that does not practice group orgies with old people wearing white tighty whities. Did I tell you about that? Wandered into the studio off the street expecting to find a yoga studio and instead found a group of half naked people laying on the ground (not a one younger than about 75) with this old man standing at the front of the room in the smallest pair of white undies I have ever seen, demonstrating something. What he was demonstrating I will never truly know. And what a sad loss for me.
Anyway, after I got over the initial stuttering and apologises and choking on the foul incense clouding the air, I ran for the hills in shock, with my friend Cat following close behind me. Note to self--never wander into a random yoga studio when you don't have an appointment. You never know what the room could be being used for. At least I hope that wasn't the yoga I witnessed. Dear god.

I've found that people see yoga here as some sort of kitschy, hippie nonsense, and those that do it incredibly new age and incredibly fit. Not quite the same in Canada where everyone and their dog (their downward dog! Ohhhhh I am on fire!) seems to do yoga. Here it seems an intense calling. And there are NEVER, EVER any classes on the weekend. WTF?!? just like most things are not really open on the weekend, or are not open past 3 anyway, there are no yoga/gym classes, and nothing really to do. Apparently everyone is just sleeping off the alcohol from the night before. Oh how a part of me longs for the days of being able to go to a coffee shop at whatever time you wanted and just chill there for hours, meeting up with people and hanging out. Well, tough shit, because that is decidedly not going to happen in Scotland.

I sound quite bitter in this post, which, believe me, is not intended. Soon I will write one about how amazing everything is. Well, I suppose I amazed about my job. I can actually visualize a life here now. And that, my friends, is a wonderful thing.

Now excuse me while I get back to my sausage rolls.