No, not that place. That's Glasgow. It will make more sense later. But, anyway, as anyone who knows me can tell you, I'm no big fan of where I'm living right now. I spent a great deal of my life counting the days until I could get out of here, and being back here again has passed the point where I can get take a deep breath and get on with it. Yeah, it's just bugging me big style. Of course, I know I won't be here much longer, and that's exciting AND stomach butterfly inducing. The butterfly part comes in because I have to decided exactly where I'm going. Sure, there's the Ph.D thing, and maybe Columbia, NYU, Glasgow, etc, will decide for me. But without a fully funded fellowship, I'm not up for keeping this academic thing going. Plus, other opportunities have been coming my way workwise that might be good - more writing jobs coming in, the Caribbean music thing, etc. So, the bottom line is, I might be facing a similar situation as I was about ten years ago - I could go anywhere. Although it occurs to me roughly 6 times a day to move back to Glasgow immediately (hell, I'm re-reading The Bedroom Secrets of Master Chefs at the moment, and it even makes me crave Edinburgh), I do have other places on the short list. But while I'm pretending to debate the options at will, what I really wonder is if I have the nerve to do what I did so many years ago now, when I packed a bag and moved to Scotland without knowing a soul. It's had me reliving that fateful first day in Scotland, so, here goes. Could I really do this again?
For some reason, I decided not to fly to Glasgow but rather to fly to London and take a train to Scotland. I had been to London once before but hadn't really gone beyond the city (save a day trip to Oxford), so I think I thought a train journey to Scotland would be "cool." The reality is flying to London and taking a train to Scotland is cool only if you enjoy fighting your way across London on public transportation while lugging all of your bags. The other reality of this journey was that rather than being exciting, it was like a long walk to the electric chair. I tried to plan my music for the trip perfectly, (including the Trainspotting soundtrack as we rolled through Edinburgh, how corny am I), but trust me, 5 1/2 hours or so is a long time to sit and think uninterrupted about a major life change.
I remember the train crossing the River Clyde and chugging past the small "Welcome to Glasgow Central Station" sign like it was yesterday. I was listening to The Pastels because it seemed appropriate. I was dizzy when I got off that train. I didn't know anyone in Glasgow and didn't know where I was going to sleep that night. But, my dad knew a woman from work who lived in Glasgow, and she said she'd meet me at the station and drive me around to show me the place a bit. She was three hours late meeting me. She came dashing into the station with purse with a post-it note that said "Heather" on it. In those three hours, I had peaked my head outside the station once, given away about 20 GBP because I didn't know about pound coins, and spent the rest of time sitting in front of the Burger King because it felt familiar.
When she got there, I was forced to abandon my Burger King safety blanket and head to the car with this stranger. I was thinking I would stay at a youth hostel, but she said her mother-in-law's friend had a B&B and that I should stay there. I didn't know what to do - I agreed. She showed me nothing of the city and drove me straight to the B&B, which I know now is in a slightly bad part of town and pretty far away from the city.
When I got to the B&B, I was introduced to the lady who ran the place - she's was probably in her 60s. She welcomed me, sat me down, made me a sandwich, and asked me if I wanted to watch a movie. Sure, a movie, why not? "Sorry, I've just got the one film," she said as she popped it in. Natural Born Killers. Really.
One interesting side note. About a week after I arrived in Glasgow, the woman who picked me up from the station was fired and subsequently arrested for embezzling a large amount of money from the company she worked at with my dad. Really.
Well, things got a lot better for me in Glasgow after that, but it was tough at first. The question remains, could I ride it out again?
(Sheesh, this is long, eh? Sorry, it's a bit cathartic! I've also just remembered I've added a twitterfeed to this blog, so this post should effectively scare people away from ever coming here again!)
