So I haven't written for awhile, but then I haven't moved in awhile. I arrived in Dalwhinnie, Scotland nearly 2 weeks ago and am still here. It's funny what comfort can do to you. I was offered some part time work at the only Inn in Dalwhinnie so I could make up for my losses in London and search for a job for free. And that is all in thanks to a friend I have who is working here as well and his nice bosses. I was trained into work the third day I was here and it was such a crazy ordeal that I decided I wasn't going to leave for at least a week. I needed to feel like I didn't go through a hellish weekend and allocating large parts of my memory to how this hotel works for nothing. But because of that decision I forwent a job I probably would have enjoyed more since it took place outdoors, in nature thinning plum trees.

And now I am stuck here, unable to find another job that would amuse me more and let me be outside hugging trees. Don't get me wrong, it's not bad here but it's not my cup of tea to be serving crabby people, making coffee drinks (although I am learning to make cool patterns in a latte), and cleaning rooms. But it is nice to have a friend from home here, a familiar face. It is nice to have free accomodation and meals, and familiarity is nice in a way.

Anyway, I haven't been writing because everyday feels the same. I rarely get out because Dalwhinnie is so remote. I rarely do much else but eat, sleep, and work and it makes me feel as though I have nothing to say. I mean I could write about the little things, like how the only Scot I work with, Craig, talks a mile a minute and you know that most of the things he's saying are ridiculous or funny or ridiculously funny, but you can't quite understand him. Or I could write about Chris, Kate, Jay, and Sarah who are all from Australia and probably make up 20% of the Dalwhinnie population. Then there is Darota who has been playing chess for 10 years and never fails to beat me (or anyone else for that matter). And her brother Radik is here as well. He came here after he and his friend Tomik (sp?), who is also here, spent all their money in Ireland on Guiness.

But these things are all so familiar to me now that it seems commonplace to write about them. It took at least a week to feel familiar here, which seemed like a long time at first, but it surprises me now that it happened that fast. It's funny how travelling can accelerate interaction so much. Interaction between you and a place, you and a group of people, you and a landscape or way of life. It happened like that in NZ. In one week there were cliques, couples, gossip, and friendships for life being forged (and Uni hadn't even started yet). You learn to adapt at light speed. And I guess that is what I have been doing.

However, I think I will head to France soon and spice things up. Familiarity can be comforting but it can also be dangerous.

P.S. Dalwhinnie is only made up of a train station, the inn, a petrol station, a loch, and a tiny schoolhouse. The locals consist of a few people, a few highland cows, the inn's duck clan, and a few horses. There are too many rabbits to consider them locals, rather, they are part of the landscape.