ACROSS THE POND: The Black Isle homecoming edition
Register for free to read more of the latest local news. It's easy and will only take a moment.
It’s been a long time coming, but Across The Pond is finally home!
I suppose in the grander scheme of things, four years isn’t that long, but to me it’s been an eternity. I spent a week in Glasgow sleeping off the jet lag, then a stint in Edinburgh, and now I’m happily ensconced in my quiet Black Isle digs. The digs come with cute collie dogs, who demand a regular throwing of the tennis ball, and now I never want to leave again. I’ve been spending my time inhaling delicious fish suppers, seeing friends and family, and visiting my old haunts.
After wall-to-wall California sun, it’s oddly nice to be reacquainted with my waterproof jacket and feeling the soft rain on my face. Whether I’ll be saying that at the end of my time here is another matter.
It’s been strange being back in Scotland after so long. I thought it would be weird to see how grey Edinburgh was after the pastel colours of California, but I didn’t really notice it. And I thought it would feel normal to be around Scottish folk again, and have people understand me, but it’s completely thrown me.
As soon as I stepped off the plane, I remember thinking ‘Wow, everyone here speaks Scottish’, and being awfully excited by that. Then, I was very aware of rounding out my ‘R’s’ on the words that cause me problems in America, and getting self-conscious because I don’t need to do that anymore. I think I have some weird California/Black Isler hybrid accent.
Friends agree I’m definitely getting more Scottish as time goes on, and I reckon my accent should be fully rehabilitated by the time I have to leave.
There’s also the feeling of being in a slightly foreign country, and not quite belonging. I expected things to be the same as they were, but of course, things change. Towns and villages have grown since I was last here. It’s more of a cashless society than before, and there’s the new bank notes that feel weird and yucky in the hand.
There’s a newer generation of cars. Nature is different.
Trees on the side of the road are much taller than they used to be. I feel discombobulated when crossing a road, looking for cars coming the wrong way.
You’d think that driving on the wrong (right) side of the road and car would cause me trouble, but it doesn’t. The thing that really gets me is parking. In America, vehicles are bigger, so parking spaces are bigger. Here, parking in those tiny spaces causes me a lot of anxiety.
There’s an Inverness Facebook page that showcases the worst parking in the area, and it really wouldn’t surprise me if someone took a photo of my car and put it on the page. Apologies for my awful parking.
Being back gives me a feeling of familiarity, rightness and home. The lay of the land hasn’t changed that much. The hills and bodies of water and bridges are just the same. Those pangs of homesickness that have gotten me down, are finally quashed.
This trip is also making me think of the bigger questions. Is living on the Black Isle like what I remember, or am I romanticising it in my head? Could I live here again? How hard is it going to be to step on that plane at Dalcross and know it’s going to be years before I return? And most importantly, just how many fish suppers can you eat before you really sicken yourself of them?
Kerry MacIver originally hails from the Black Isle and now lives in the San Francisco Bay Area. She writes about being a Scot in the USA.
