Chapter 2. That one time I moved to Scotland
August 2019
So, I figured I’d skip the random stuff and get to the juicy details (aka things people actually want to read). Sure! So I arrived in mid July. And I settled in with some old family friends. My lovely 1st international host parents were - how do I say this and not write a whole page about them - angels. Imagine the cutest little house back in my hometown with a renovated attic that could double for a loft. This cozy place became my room… amazing. The way you could hear the rain bounce on the windows in here… amazing. My own sweet little space. To elaborate, Jan and Ian were my host parents. They were old family friends of ours in Scotland whom I now consider my 2nd set of parents. They were above and beyond - truly I was spoiled. I am forever grateful for these generous and hilarious people.
Ok I have to move on before I get really sappy.
August consisted of me attending my first world pipe band competition! Are you wondering what the heyyyyul that is?? I was too! Neatly enough, my host-dad is a part of a pipe band, named The Vale of Atholl. Click on that name so you can see more information for yourself. Put short & sweet: it’s a band of drummers and bagpipers. It’s REALLY cool. Men in skirts (kilts)??? Yep - those dudes.
So on this day we went to Glasgow, Scotland. I can’t remember exactly how we got there, but I do remember that I had a game the next day… (important detail - bad day to attend). We walk up to the Glasgow Greens and the streets surrounding the massive garden are filled with charter busses (or in the UK we say: coaches). So I’m thinking dang these are a lot of busses for one concert eh? Interesting.
My “host-sissy”, Megan, and I walk into the gardens. Host dad is gone with his band to practice. Honestly, I thought this was going to be like attending a younger siblings dance recital - they perform once and then you’re gone. True, it was actually like this, but little did I know the duration of this entire event was about… SEVEN HOURS.
What do you do for seven hours at a world pipe band competition? Yeah I’m about to tell you. First - mind you this is my first real day out in a new city in Scotland. It’s a beautiful day, it’s mid August, the sky is blue, there are a few white clouds about, and the temperature is mid 60°F’s (18°C). Rare. I will soon come to know this is very rare.
Inside the gardens there are dozens of tents. Tents selling food, tents selling alcohol, and tents selling merchandise. (Texan to Texan - it’s a mini rodeo. Not familiar with the rodeo? Disregard this comment.) The grass is green, soft, beautiful.
Actually I need an entire paragraph to describe the grass in Scotland. How the HELL do y’all (you all) maintain PERFECT, impeccable lawns year round? The green, soft, voluptuous grass alone might be Scotland’s claim to fame. If there’s anything you can brag about, it’s your grass. It’s beautiful. And when does anyone even attend to their lawns? It’s literally always raining? I never see anyone working on their lawns?! It’s a mystery as far as I’m concerned.
Ok you get it - grass is nice as hell. So this place is cool. It’s a massive garden filled with tents and people. The sound of beautiful and shitty bagpipes spread through the air and inject into your ears. I lean my head back. Breathe in. Close my eyes. I breathe out. Wow, what a day to be in Glasgow, Scotland. A raindrop lands on my face. I open my eyes. What the fu*k? A massive grey rain cloud hovers over me. But the day was so nice? HA - silly American. Soon you’ll learn that consistent, nice weather in Scotland simply does not exist.
I notice people scattering to find shelter under trees and tents, or the prepared humans whip out their rain ponchos. Smart. Wish someone told me about this earlier. I flip my hood up and cuddle with Megan under a nearby tree for 10 minutes.
Small rainstorm is over.
Hour 2. Megan and I get some food. “Do you want a bacon roll?” She asks me. I look around nervously. What the fu*k is a bacon roll? “Uhh yeah, what is that?” I respond. To save you the dialogue, she freaks out about that fact I haven’t had a bacon roll yet (delicious by the way) and insists I try one. So I do. And? It’s amazing. It’s simply just bacon in a nice bread roll. But bacon in the UK is different than in America. Bacon here actually contains meat. It’s not thin or crispy, it’s thicccc (aha), and bigger. I prefer British bacon honestly. Thanks Megs x. I now make bacon rolls 2x a day because it’s the only thing I know how to cook.
Hour 4/5/6. After wandering about the gardens for a bit, avoiding the periodic rain storms, and then watching random bands perform, we finally got the chance to watch The Vale of Atholl perform.
Five. Minutes. They performed for five minutes.
AND it was awesome! My cutie little host dad is a drummer, and he rocked it.
So, if you’re an American reading this. It’s almost like attending a track meet, or swim meet. You go for hours, but only end up watching a few seconds or minutes of an event.
And what do you do after the event is over? Drink, of course. Because you earned it. And what does the “rodeo” now turn into? A massive frat party… Imagine this; HUNDREDS of men and women, gathered under a giant white tent selling beer and mixed drinks. Oh and don’t forget the rain every hour or so.
At this point I’ve lost track of how long we’ve been out. My hair that I straightened earlier in the day is extremely not straight. My tummy is full from lots of yummy food. My knees ache from walking for too long. And there are still old, drunk Scottish men tumbling down the road. It’s time to go home.
Overall, my world pipe band competition experience was enjoyable. I now know to prepare for a FULL DAY event, and to bring an umbrella, a pillow and blanket to nap during events, a raincoat, and an empty stomach so I can try all of the food. It was a rarely successful day in Glasgow, Scotland (foreshadowing).
