At the pace with which we have been moving for the past few days, it’s hard to remember it all; where we’ve stayed, how many towns we passed through, how many stops we made, who we met. In the evenings I cull my photos while Elihu gives his online Mandarin tutoring sessions, so we don’t often have a good moment in which to recap together. Hard to believe we left one week ago tonight – feels we’ve had a month’s worth of adventures since then.

We’ve done so much, but sometimes we feel just a mite cheated as we often miss the classic tourist moments. When I’m driving, I’m concentrating, and I can’t really enjoy the scenery, and Elihu is often engaged with navigation duties. This afternoon we enjoyed only fifteen minutes of a hour-long bus tour, but we made our choices, and hopping off of the bus was necessary to make this perfect day happen. Elihu and I always have off-the-beaten-path experiences the likes of which very few enjoy, and today was no exception. My one superpower is being able to talk to anyone, and to engage them in such a way that before long they’re telling us their story, and an interesting conversation always ensues. We had some very lovely ones today.

We passed by the Parish Church of St. Cuthbert’s (the oldest Christian Church in Edinburgh, founded in 670 AD) and soon we were talking with an older woman who was weeding the garden. Her friend Fred joined us next, and we four had a lively chat before a younger man on his lunch break stopped by and added to the party. I slipped into the church (which was closed to the public) to use the toilet and was stopped by a church member – but when I told him that I’d been chatting with Anne, he waved me in with a smile. Perks of the superpower.

We met up with a fellow I’d been corresponding with online for several years – he rode his motorcycle up from London just to see us in person. That meeting then changed the trajectory of our plans; we are at the moment staying in a lovely mom and pop hotel near his friends’ place, rather than staying at a far more tony (and expensive) hotel we’d originally booked. Who knows what new experiences we’ll have and the new people we’ll meet as a result? It’s serendipitous things like this which make our trip not only memorable, but which enrich our lives in ways we could never have imagined.

It’s late, and I have many photos to review – plus Elihu is in the next bed giving his very animated (and loud) Mandarin tutoring session. (Btw – he is a pretty fantastic teacher. I’ve never heard him give a lesson before and it’s truly impressive to hear him in full-on teaching mode.) I’ll wrap this installment soon.

Tomorrow we say goodbye to our car, which has taken us from Inverness to Ullapool, through the Highlands and into Edinburgh (city driving was surprisingly not bad – in fact I actually enjoyed it) and then across back roads to a point somewhere in the countryside north of Perth. Although it was a real challenge to manage these narrow and twisting roads, I am a bit sad to know that the driving portion of the story is almost over. And I’m fairly certain I shan’t have another go at it in this lifetime. But how lucky I’ve been to have learned this new skill at my old age. How fortunate we have been to see the deep interior of this country as very few tourists ever do. How wonderful it’s all been until now.

And it isn’t over yet.

But first, to sleep. Goodnight, dear Scotland. We are both very happy to be here.

It’s been a very full day.

Today Elihu and I drove half the length of the country, and made six stops.

We began at the tourist town of Fort William (after partially consuming a strange breakfast of sweet baked beans, broiled tomatoes, bland, large sausages with an unnervingly creamy feel, dense, bread-like triangles and a whitish mixture with no flavor at all and a texture like curdled yogurt which we could only assume by context to be eggs) before getting back on the road to Glencoe and then onward through the Highland mountains. On a Sunday there was no letup to the traffic which passed us on the other side of the tiny and twisting two lane road. More stressful than the towering lorries which whizzed by us at quite a clip (again – going the other way) were the motorcycles. It seems that bikers and their machines are quite different in this country – all of them leather-clad and having various luggage carriers on bike profiles which I didn’t recognize. No open-faced helmets on Harleys here! Riders were athletic in their presence – zooming easily past us whenever the road permitted. Often in small groups and with very loud and high-pitched engines, when they drove by en masse it was hard to keep relaxed and focused. Like I said before, driving in Scotland is stressful.

It’s late and there’s too much for me to recall now save a digest: Hairy coos (which we smooched and fed and from whom I got my first tick), a small horse farm (a random stop on a small road), Doune Castle (from Monty Python and the Holy Grail), another small farm (again, just pulled in to say hello), a pub in the town of Bonnybridge (self-proclaimed UFO capital of the world) where the locals were in the midst of a very loud karaoke night, the engineering marvel of the Falkirk Wheel lock, an Indian takeaway place where we chatted for a long time with the Pakistani/Scottish owner, then finally our hotel for the night.

Getting here involved several dozen rotaries and a good 125 miles of tightly turning roads. And we still have no phone service. But we’re here, and from what the map tells us, it’s just a few blocks’ walk to the sea.

Today’s memories seem to both of us like a week’s worth of adventures. Elihu has finished his tutoring notes for his language students, and I have jotted down what I’m able in this late hour. It’s time for bed. Til the next installment…

I have spent much of the past two days driving on super narrow, twisting mountain roads, and at the moment I am exhausted. And even though I’ve learned some tricks to keeping the car properly centered and to remain calm when enormous trucks and vans pass within inches of me – going the other direction – it is still a feat of concentration the likes of which I haven’t known in ages. Within only a few precious feet of the road’s edge there is usually a drop off that would mean certain death if I succumbed to a moment of panic or misjudgment, so naturally I am highly motivated to be prudent and safe. But it’s taxing. It feels rather like playing a relentless video game. The scenery is beyond description, and our jaws drop around every bend with the unbelievably idyllic scenery, and it helps to motivate me onward. For a place that neither one of us was truly excited to visit (mostly we felt it was a doable adventure for the two of us before he went off into the world on his own), every moment that we are here we are convinced that we needed to come here. It is changing our lives to be sure.

Last night was a beautiful and insightful experience for us both. I played my original songs in a tiny and love-filled room where every face was looking at me, every person engaged and listening to my songs as no one has ever listened before. They clapped with enthusiasm, and afterward many thanked me and told me how my songs had reached their hearts. To be honest, given the nature of my material and how directly it addresses mid-life and end-of-life issues, I’m always a bit surprised that more people don’t seem to resonate with my songs as strongly as these folks did. But I’m beginning to think it’s a cultural thing. There was a human and intimate aspect to the crowd last night which I just don’t sense from audiences I’ve played for in the US. I might have thought it was just me, but Elihu also felt a different energy there. Usually I resent playing cover tunes and often find myself angry that I am paid to play while hardly a person even seems engaged or interested, but last night I obliged some late night requests with a few Carole King and Carly Simon songs and everyone in the room sang along. I’m a bit jaded and snarky when it comes to playing covers – but it brought the room so much joy that it transformed my thinking about the value and purpose of music. Even my son – a classical composer who has little patience for pop music in general – he was singing along, swaying in a sort of rapture, smiling, eyes closed, leaning deeply into the moment. It was a night of connection the likes of which I have never known in my home country. Eye-opening for sure.

We have met people from so many different countries, and my polyglot kid is in overdrive mimicking accents and trying out short conversations in other languages (his Scottish accent is brilliant, imho). The woman who served us dinner tonight was from Peru, lived years in Argentina, had a home in Greece and longed one day to go to Japan. She and Elihu spoke in French, Spanish and Greek, and we three enjoyed a lovely exchange which ended in hugs and goodbyes as if we were long lost friends. It seems everywhere we go we share stories with people and part feeling very satisfied that we have connected with another human in a beautiful way. I could really never know a better travel partner than my son. He’s easy-going and up for unplanned stops. He doesn’t mind when his chatty mother asks the clerk where she’s from and how she came to this job. Unassuming at first, he’ll join in, and before long the three of us will be laughing together, feeling that unique type of camaraderie which strangers sometimes enjoy in brief encounters. The novelty of being passersby opens the conversation, and a sense of connection almost always comes of it, and what a beautiful thing that is.

[Forgive me please, but the font size is about to change and I’m far too tired to jockey between phone and iPad to get it sorted.]

Elihu is wiped out and is upstairs sleeping. Although I myself have every reason to be asleep myself, I am in the lobby listening to a thirty-something group of US and Scottish tourists become acquainted and compare notes about their cultures and their travels. I’m fascinated with the people who choose to travel. It takes a certain courage to set out into new places – even with all the advantages of cell phones and the internet (btw, screw Verizon’s electronic SIM card – we’ve been without cell service the past two days and it is beyond frustrating – it’s potentially dangerous. Even after a good two hours on hold and working with an agent there has been no resolution. I will raise a bit of hell when I am home and have the time to properly deal with it.) Modern woes aside, there is still no better way to learn about yourself and others than to travel, and I am immensely grateful for this trip and all that I’ve learned thus far.

This was a long day, but a very successful one. In the past 24 hours I can recount the blooming apple tree outside my door in Greenfield, eating grilled lamb from a food truck with the Empire State Building in view, picking a flower off of a hedge in Paris, taking in a stunning view of London and emerging from a plane on the tarmac at the tiny Inverness Airport here in Scotland, greeted by the scent of salt air and springtime blooms.

I hadn’t quite budgeted for the great expense this trip will be, and I have a slight sense of panic in my heart when I imagine the two and a half weeks ahead. It’s not cheap to travel, much less to the United Kingdom. The exchange rate is awful and life these days is simply not cheap. But this is a long-awaited adventure for Elihu and me, and we will make it happen however that may be. If it’s ramen noodles every night (it is on this first night!), then that’s the reality. We’ll have our haggis and scotch, but maybe just not as often as I might’ve hoped.

But truly, things went so smoothly in our first day of travels that I can hardly believe it, and it gives me hope that things will turn out well on this trip. People everywhere were kind and helpful. There is nothing that can foster love in one’s heart for other fellow humans in the way that travel can. Right out of the small airport we ran into a German couple with whom we shared a taxi. They spoke limited English, so Elihu got into the backseat with them and had a nice conversation in German while I sat up front with the Pakistani driver comparing the local drivers to the ones back home. We shared some laughs as we each recounted an anecdote from the famous Murree mountain road.

The driver gave me some pointers for driving on the right side – and for a moment or two it seemed fairly straightforward. But then a few times I was too scared to look ahead and so cast my eyes into my lap. As I write this It is after midnight and I am dreading the morning that follows, as we must find a bus back to the airport and then I will get behind the wheel of a car which I’ll be driving for hundreds of kilometers. It’s a challenge, and I don’t know how I’ll meet it, but I will.

We are staying at a sweet but very no-frills Airbnb, and Elihu is downstairs in the common area on a zoom call tutoring a student in Mandarin. This woman has also employed him to help her with her Cantonese – a language that until a few weeks ago Elihu did not know. But he’s been working diligently the past week working on vocab and accent, staying a lesson ahead of his student. Talk about a challenge! That kid is bold. And I know he will be successful. I’ll take my inspiration from him.

There’s simply too much to impart here, as I sit with my legs folded under me and my neck cramping to see the small monitor. My head is swimming with images and memories of the people I’ve seen, the kindnesses given to us by so very many people who assisted us in our time of need. I am so humbled by the care we received from complete strangers. I am amazed at the variety of people in this world. Even here at the local Tesco we met a man from Nigeria and a woman from Poland with whom we shared some nice moments.

I love my hometown, and I am comfortable there to be sure. But sometimes in life we need to get out and see how different we are to remember how much we have in common, no matter where it is that we live.