After struggling a little, I could understand how public transportation worked in the city. I took a train from the suburbs and found it strange not having to pay to board. Arriving at the central station I found out I was supposed to buy a ticket in order to leave the terminal. I spent more money than I needed and bought a return ticket, just because I couldn’t understand what people were saying.
I saw many Scots sunbathing on George Square’s grass. Winter is really bad in northern Europe, so people who live there make the most of the sun. I laid on the floor pretending to be one of them and watched the sky as I felt my skin burn. Hearing the noises of the city, I felt sorry for myself for having that anxiety feeling stuck in my chest. I was making a big dream come true, but, at the same time, I hadn’t found any sense in the madness of carrying a backpack with no final destination.
It would’ve been perfect, if I had reached real peace.
I closed my eyes for a few minutes and wished I had gotten some tranquility, but that sick feeling in my stomach and my fast heartbeat would still follow me for many months.
I walked on the streets of Merchant City, had a cheap hamburger for lunch, and ended up in a pub where a kind of Scottish dance class was taking place. I joined the people and tried to learn the dance. I had a very fun afternoon at the sound of the bagpipe and swirling around with strangers whose accent I didn’t understand.
The next day I went for a walk in Kelvingrove Park. I watched the young people having some barbecue and picnic under the trees and I stopped at a coffee shop to use the wifi. I read that Edinburgh was a small town and that I could visit everything in just a day. I bought a bus ticket for the next day.
In the morning, Stephen took me to the bus station and said goodbye with a request: “If you go to a church, get in and say a prayer for me. This is the best way to thank me.” He also said he was inspired to start writing his own gratitude journal and I got on the bus proud of myself for traveling to another destination all alone.
21 – BETWEEN LAUGHTER AND TEARS
I put the large backpack in a locker at the Edinburgh bus station and headed straight towards the main street of the historic center where a free guided tour would start. I began to better understand the Scottish accent of the tour guide and I can say that I understood 40% of his explanations, which for me was a victory.
Whenever I got a wifi connection, I googled some of the historical facts that had caught my attention.
Edinburgh is like a fairytale city. The castle, at its highest spot, seems to look around at all the medieval buildings that stand the test of time. Cobblestone streets, colorful flowers on the facades, and the sound of bagpipes completed the magical scene before my eyes.
After the tour, I stopped at a Starbucks and made a video call with my family. It was Sunday and my brothers were at my mother’s house for lunch. I saw my nephews, I told them a little about Scotland, and felt that my mother was proud of me.
I spent a few hours watching a group of nearby Indian tourists discussing something that was beyond my understanding and walked through a beautiful park at dusk.
I left for Dundee with no battery on my cell phone, but, luckily, a Brazilian I met over the internet, who has lived in Scotland for years, was already waiting for me at the bus station. I felt an immediate connection with Johanna. A sweet and energetic woman who gave her own room away for me to spend the next few nights.
We took lovely walks around Dundee as well as Saint Andrews, the city where royals go to college. We had a lot in common and we talked a lot. And our time together was a mixture of laughters and tears.
I spent four nights at Johanna’s house, and on the eve of my departure, we got drunk on white wine at a pub. Laughing like two wasted teenagers, we asked her daughter to rescue us, since neither of us could drive.
I was on a hangover when I got on the bus back to Glasgow, from where my flight to England would depart, and I traveled happily for making a new friend in Scotland.
22 – A NEARLY GENIUS IDEA
I was looking forward to meeting my new host’s space and living the incredible experience of staying in a stranger’s houseboat in England. I even imagined telling this story to my daughter one day, only in a completely different way.
Gary was extremely kind offering to pick me up at the airport. It was a nearly one-hour drive to the park where the boat was moored in the suburbs of London. He parked and warned me that it was about a 15-minute walk to the canal where he lived.
It was after midnight and I had no idea where I was. The park was completely dark and I saw absolutely nothing but endless black shadow before my eyes. Carrying my two backpacks, I walked blindly listening to the footsteps of that complete stranger beside me.
I started to panic and think of the stupidity I had done. I wouldn’t even survive to tell the tale. Who knows if anyone would find my body?
That man told me we were walking through a park, but it could very well be a football field or an abandoned cemetery. There was a scary silence and I had never seen him in my life, how could I trust him?
I tried to reassure myself that everything was fine. I had read all his references on Couchsurfing and also sent my group of friends a picture of him along with his address, phone number, Facebook profile, and his professional website: spiritual hairdresser.
I was alone, with a stranger and in the middle of nowhere. Completely vulnerable. He could do anything to me. I had nowhere to run since I had no idea what was around me. In that absolute darkness, I could only keep walking. “So much for an adventuresome spirit.”
When the bad thoughts came back, full of macabre scenes, I would tell myself that he was just a hippie fellow who lived in a boathouse and cut people’s hair chanting mantras with lit incense.
At some point in the walk, I could not stand the anxiety and broke the silence.
- I confess I’m a little afraid of being here in this darkness, in a place I have no idea where it is. I hope I can trust you, because that’s my only alternative now. – I tried to sound relaxed.
- I was thinking about how you might be feeling right now, – he laughed. – Don’t worry, it’s not the best time for you to arrive, but you’re safe. I promise.
At his words, I managed to calm down and remember that my phone had a flashlight. I was relieved to see the ground under my feet and a small path ahead of me.
We reached the houseboat and it was very hot in there. The iron roof had been in the sun all day and it turned the place into a greenhouse. Fortunately, he was not a psychopath and the boat was full of colorful paintings, representing the seven chakras.
I would sleep on the living room couch and he’d sleep in the small bedroom. Vegan, Gary prepared some braised vegetables and showed me how the bathroom worked. That’s when I realized that the adventure of staying in a houseboat was not that much fun.
- A pump pulls water from the canal into the shower and taps. The toilet is ready if you want to do number 1. The urine goes to a reservoir outside the boat. To make the number 2, simply activate this lever that opens the bottom of the latrine where the feces will be deposited in a bucket with soil. Once you’re done, you just need to throw some more dirt over it to avoid the stench. Don’t worry about removing anything from the bucket or reservoir. I do it later in the day and bury it. I prefer to do my needs in nature. So feel free to do the same if you want.
I thanked him for the explanation trying to sound natural. But inside I was screaming, “What did you say? I’ll poop on a bucket and let you clean it? No way, buddy! No one puts their hands on my poop.”