One cannot spend a month on foreign soil in a cabin alone without learning some things about themselves and the environment around them, so here are some of the things I have learned from staying in Scotland.
1. Into every day a little rain shall fall. Now Scotland is not known for sandy beaches and sunburns. It is not that kind of vacation destination. It rains. It rains a lot. But rain does not necessarily mean a day inside. A raincoat makes a rainy day enjoyable and Scottish rain, at least what I have experienced of it, is not a lashing painful thing, nor a giant drowning downpour kind of thing. It is a gentle thing, ranging from a misty day where the moisture hangs in the air but doesn't really fall, to a thick sprinkle, like the rain showerhead everyone covets, but no one buys. All of the rain is sprinkles and it always rains hardest when the sun breaks through the clouds. I have enjoyed many days out in the rain, and have enjoyed many rainy days inside with a cup of cocoa and the windows opened so I could hear and smell the rain as I read a book on the couch.
2. I can cook. I had my doubts, and bought some peanut butter just in case. I have not experienced a lot of cooking success in the past many years of adulthood. I burn things, and overflow things, and just don't know how to cook things. I have never made a hamburger patty without cutting it in half in the pan and wondering why the blessed thing won't cook. Perhaps one must consider outside factors to cooking success. Like trying to cook with two screaming toddlers hanging off your ankles, or later trying to cook with the TV blaring and three people asking you to come look at something obviously more important than my potatoes boiling over. Correcting math papers while grilled cheese sandwiches turn hopelessly black in the pan. What's that smell? Oh, yes, I was cooking something. But alone in the quiet of my cabin, I can cook something and it turns out pretty good. I made lamb chops the other day that were succulent and juicy, not black and jerky-like as usual. And I didn't leave one empty pan burning on the fire, forgotten in the midst of laundry and teenage drama.
3. I can overcome. Fear of asking questions, directions, driving on the wrong side, making mistakes. Whatever. I have dealt with it all and have come out the other side much more confident and willing to do things I would consider way to scary to even contemplate much less do. Go to some guy's house, grab one of his kayaks and launch yourself into the river. He'll not be home, but he will leave the stuff out for you. Did I mention he has four thousand sled dogs? What?! Are you mad? I'm supposed to drive up to a stranger's house and take out one of his kayaks with no more directions than his is the only house on the right? Ok. I'll give it a try, though I hope the dogs are put away. Crazy. And yet, a month ago, I would have passed on the whole idea. Following directions in Scotland: go that way until you see a sign for (fill in the blank of a town name too long to read or pronounce) and turn left. Then go til the road ends and you are there. Road signs other than town names coming up do not exist. Not once did I see a sign that said you are on Highway A84. Or that you are going west on it. All you get is the next five towns coming up in a long cluster sign right on the corner where you are to turn. Gosh! I hope that said Beauly. Otherwise, I may be going to Bugscuffle or something.
4. Nothing needs to be done. I am on vacation. I am on a stress relieving vacation. If I want to sit in my cabin for a month and count the deer going by, I can. If I want to drive for hours, go here or there, arrange a side trip, I can. Quiet is allowed. And needed. Busyness is fun and wanted. A balance of both is ideal. Having nobody with you to crab at you about being bored, that is a blessing.
5. It is okay to feel sad when it is time to go home. It is not okay once you are home to allow the stressors that drove you to take a month long vacation to continue to drive you. Something must be done or the vacation served no purpose other than a brief reprieve from the madness.
6. It is good to be alone. Alone does not have to be lonely. I have spent much of my days talking to God, reading, working through a Bible Study, and have not felt lonely. I enjoy the immense quiet. It is peaceful and life-giving.
7. Take a bath, however, and you will not be alone for long. I am not a lover of the bath, but on rare occasions I will enjoy a bath, with candles in a darkened room, music, and bath salts. And a soon as the sigh escapes my lips, there are my lovely daughters, age 2 and 4 to help. Mommy let me wash your feet. Mommy let me wash your face. Mommy, mommy, mommy, and then my two year old is in the tub with me. And why didn't I lock the door? I don't think that would have deterred them. Now that my girls are well into their teen years, I can take a bath by myself. Hot water, bath bomb, candles...text message. Why me? Why? How is it they know? All the way to Scotland and still no bath without my girls. I can, however, text without dropping the phone into the tub, so there.
Sounds like you've had a very meaningful experience. I'm happy for you.
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