Simpler Days

Being back in the international terminal of Glasgow’s small but bustling airport had long silent memories threatening to come rushing back and sweep her over, like the offshore rips that plagued Sydney beaches on the warmest of Summer days. 10 years later and she couldn’t help feel a little longing for simpler days...the days of when she was here last. Young, energetic and excited she had been ready for the trip of a lifetime...and what a gap year she had experienced. She had backpacked through Europe like every other high school graduate that wanted to do something different before settling back into an educational institute once again. 

Despite all the countries she had visited, the sights she had seen and the people she had met...Scotland stuck with her most of all. It was why all these years later she had jumped at the opportunity to do a research trip back into the rural western lowlands of the great nation. Although it was over a decade later, the vibe of the place still called to something deep within her, a stirring...a connection.

The Gaelic myths and legends she had spent  the better half of the last 10 years studying described the land as a living entity, a vibrant soul that connected with those it chose..it seemed to have chosen Trixi as one of its own despite her Australian heritage. As excited as she was to soak in the lush rolling plains and mysterious lochs her grumbling stomach was more interested in the Scot’s famous pub food coupled with a ‘Tennants’ lager at that current moment. After 3 days of fast food, airport air and cramped travelling she was almost giddy at the thought of a hot shower, a decent meal and a cold drink...preferably an alcoholic one. It was just past 10am in the morning, the start of happy hour here yet the atmosphere in the bustling terminal was pretty much the exact opposite. Internally sighing with relief as she spotted her worn yet sturdy red duffel bag she hoisted the carrier on her back ignoring the fact that she probably looked very similar to Santa at that moment with her brightly coloured bag and multiple layers of fluffy clothing.

Returning to Scotland had been on her ‘ to do’ list for years...although returning in Winter probably wasn’t the most ideal circumstances. Considering the fact that the large floor to ceiling windows of the airport's foyer already had a thick layer of condensation Trixie knew that her Aussie genes weren’t cut out for whatever hellish weather was currently hovering over the city. Although she had been looking forward to seeing the picturesque scenery her current shivering despite being indoors had her heading for the underground Subway to take her to the outskirts of the city, she could go sightseeing another time...she was there for several months after all. 

Several hours later, the Mythology and Ancient Civilisations Professor was tucked into the plushy couch of her home for the next few months, a steaming cup of black coffee nestling between her hands as she stared out the window at the white washed world. Gone were the emerald fields and cobalt skies of her memories...instead glittering white meadows rolled on onfinitely to the horizon where the brilliant white met the dark grey and ominous purple bruising of the overcast sky. Despite being early afternoon Trixie had all the lights on in the small BNB she was renting...the natural lighting replicating early evening rather than barely past midday.

It was fortunate that she had arrived a few days ahead of schedule to settle in because as the kind cab driver had told her less than half an hour ago, the snowstorm aside most things in the city were closed for the weekend for the quarterly ‘ Rural games’. WIth a amused twinkle in his eye the elderly gentlemen had educated the foreigner on the event itself. A chance for the rural communities in the area to bring in some extra income through a fair four times a year that spanned from Friday morning to Sunday night...which stretched to Monday morning depending on how the particular individuals evening wound up.

There were various competitions and demonstrations all based around a farmers way of life; herding, shearing and even tractor drag racing was on the list of itineraries apparently. There was nothing like a good drag race to remind her of Friday nights back at home with her mates. Flicking through one of the worn yet informative tourist guides that she found within the living room book shelf she debated on how she was going to spend the next few days. Her jet lag would kick in soon and if last years work trips were anything to go by that would knock her out for a good 48 hours...thank goodness the scot’s liked their coffee intense. She refused to spend the first few days in a new country sleeping or lazily watching rom coms.

As she headed into the kitchen to try find something to satisfy her currently grumbling stomach the soft grumble of the ferocious winds outside the confines of the house increased to an animalistic howl as a clanging sound coupled by muffled cursing indicated that someone had just entered the BNB.

Heart thundering she swiftly spun around and slowly peered around the open archway of the kitchen only to be assaulted by an intense aroma...a strangely familiar scent. The fragrance attempted to stir some long forgotten memories within the dusty confines of her mind, memories seen through younger eyes. 

It was an Earthy smell that was surprisingly pleasant despite the obviously natural nature of it. The origin of the scent in question suddenly popped out from the foyer hallway, almost giving Trixie a heart attack as she pressed her hands to her chest in shock. The familiarity of the man in front of her stirred something deep within her, echoes of the past imprinting deeply on her mind as memories from  her pre college days fought to shuffle themselves to the front of her mind. 

Adrian, the one factor of Scotland that had been the hardest to leave all those years ago. They hadn’t even exchanged contact details; their friendship...relationship had been so brief, yet intense.  The locally born and raised son of a farmer had barely changed from the 18 year old scottish youth she had known a decade before hand. His icy blue eyes studied hers in equal parts curiosity and shock, his blonde curly hair...still frizzy despite being soaked by the torrential rain outside stood out starkly against his dark skin, tan from years of outdoor work.

He shifted from his position by the doorway, sending the sweet scents of fresh rain and wet Earth towards her. His cheeky grin already taking her back to her brief gap year fling, a fling she hadn’t wanted to remain just a fleeting face...but such was the nature of foreign romances. It was times like these, times that the universe intervened and pushed people back together in fortunate coincidences that had her solid in her belief that fate was real. 

People could call her crazy, her students often did but she believed in the age old Gaelic beliefs of universal energies and fate. She believed in destiny, she believed in the myths and legends she had built her career on. She believed in what stood in front of her holding what she now recognised as a still steaming bag of hot chips and battered fish. She believed in second chances.