Scottish October.

After a warm holiday at home, when I tried to soak up as much sunshine as possible, I'm back to my favourite Scottish city.

With autumn, a "new year" has started as well. Hope it will be a good, healthy and sweet one.

I've started some new "projects" lately. I work as a volunteer once a week in a Cancer Research charity shop, which is just around the corner. Jackie, the manager of the shop is a lovely, warmhearted woman. And she is a homeopath as well.

I enrolled to a Portuguese language course at the university. The charm of my heart's homeland, Portugal, has not been lifted yet. It's stubbornly holding its place there. So I thought, I should perhaps "brush up" my language skills. I don't need a big brush though. What a language! When I hear it spoken, I catch only words. It's beautiful to my ears, but will there come a day when I can put the sentences together in my head?

I've a new friend. His name is Roddy, is 62, and runs a neighbouring guesthouse. He is a good friend of my manager, that's how I came to know him. Now he comes almost everyday for a cup of tea. And - he is a Knight Templar. Really. He is!

Orlando, the cat, has changed her mind, and moved back home. She still comes to visit or for a snack, but presently she's a resident of Gilmore Place 40, not 26. I miss her.

My favourite British author, Salley Vickers has published a new novel lately, Where Three Roads Meet. I've got it, I'm going to start to read it soon.

I'll try to write more often.

More than a month has passed since my last visit here. What can happen in a month?
Not too much. Just little things, but little things are equally important.
I bought a beautiful travel diary, and I really enjoy writing it in Hungarian and with a normal pen. No computers. The cat (Orlando) which belongs to the manager moved here. They live just a few houses away, and one day Orlando appeared and - sort of - stayed. She used to visit many of the neighbours' gardens and get some food as well, but gradually she set up her real base here in the guesthouse. Of course I'm glad, we are good friends.
I went to the concert of Salsa Celtica, my big Scottish discovery band. I can't tell you just in a few sentences what kind of magic they had done at Queen's Hall. ~Their music is really like a journey back and forth between Scotland and Latin-America. For a minute as the pipes or fiddles play you are roaming the green landscape of Scotland under the constantly moving clouds, you even feel the cool rain on your face; the other minute you are transported to the sunny, hot and relaxed place of Latin-America, you hear people laughing and talk with a loud voice...

This evening we celebrated Talo's birthday. He is my colleague and the nephew of our manager. He cooked chicken and rice for us, his favourite dish (very common food in Kurdistan, I think all Kurdish people love it!) . Four of us: he, his uncle, Andi (another girl from Hungary working here) and me have eaten with good appetite and even better mood. We sipped tasteful Spanish wine. In fact, some of it is still here with me, by the computer.
This dinner helped my inner world to get into good balance again. All afternoon I was walking on the busy streets of Edinburgh. Traffic, a lot of people. I wished I was reclining on the sofa down in our room, in quiet. Tomorrow, I'll do that.
And when I got back, there was this tasty dinner waiting on the table.
Simple things do make a difference.

Greetings from Edinburgh, where you hear all the time the seagulls' crying (a bit more agressive than up in the Highlands), where you feel the wind always blowing, and where you see the clouds always moving.

So I'm here again, starting my second week in this fascinating city.

I live and work about 10-15 minutes walk from the centre. I have the same job as in the last one year: looking after people in a guesthouse.

It wasn't easy to leave home. I never thought I would return to Scotland. But - I know I'm repeating myself - life is full of surprises. It made me come back.

So once again I'm walking the streets among the grey buildings, looking up to see all the small towers. Once again I'm having coffee in the Elephant House, the "birthplace of Harry Potter".

Once again I'm pacing the Royal Mile, and sit in the Princes Street Gardens.

This time however I'm not a guest here. How do I make Edinburgh "mine"? How do I find my own place within this multicultural hub?

These are some of the questions that occupy my mind at present...

"The crisis is the turning point", says a Chinese proverb. And this was a very important word of encouragement given to me by a friend from the other side of the world, Taiwan.

It only needs time, I would add.

Sunshine has a healing power, and we have had so far a lot of sunshine lately. I try to store those warming rays in my memory and body, so that I can reach back to them later when I will be up in Scotland again.

Not yet though, and 'till then I try to live the present according to my abilities.

I finished reading a new book from Paulo Coelho: The Handbook of the Warrior of Light. Inspiring.

I try to sleep as much as I can.

I collected 5 bags of rubbish from all my drawers in my room. Very interesting selection.

I watch the small family of pigeons who built a nest in our window. I watched as they came out of the eggs, and then as they learned to fly. The parents are incredibly caring. They all keep coming back because we give them to eat.

The best time to watch this local "life of birds" (even Sir Attenborough would be pleased) is about 19.30 in the evening. The street is quiet by that time, and the only noise is made by the various birds. Apart from the pigeons we have some swallows as well, they live above our kitchen window.

And then, I start slowly preparing for my next life-phase. I have to select what I will bring with myself, clothes, books, and memories. I know I have to go, but it is hard.

To continue my last thought, the place of the unknown has welcomed me at home with a new "surprise", and once again I must learn that having plans, no, even having hopes doesn't mean to be able to turn them to reality.
How does one feel when heartbroken? How does one feel after having reached the place where she's willing to give herself up for the sake of the other and then she's made to realize all this was futile? How does one feel after a year of hopes and struggles about love?
How do I feel and what do I think?
I start to see the world through different eyes.
Because this time the sharp bitterness did not come. Nor the acidlike self-reproach. Not even self-pity.
I know I had done everything I could.
And I know that he had not.
I've gained a new opportunity to move on. Forward.

The unexpected turns of life continue. The city of Edinburgh has got a hold on me, I alredy wrote about this. It seems that the next chapter's scene (from June) will be there. It's really funny.
I start to be curious why I still need to return there...?
I want to be open to learn new things.
In the meantime, home, sweet home.

As I am counting - after one year - my last days in Scotland, all kinds of memories and feelings pass through me.

I'm trying slowly to detach myself. I'm again about to move on to a new phase, and the change usually doesn't happen in a day. I need time to shift my focus.

The first part of this shifting is letting go - of places, people, habits. The invisible threads that link me to the life here need to get "loose" so that I can really leave. Not loose in the sense that I don't care about these things anymore, no. I still keep them close, but at the same time I'm creating a distance, and then this distance empowers them with a special meaning.

A year in the Highlands has made me, in a way, "tough" - or at least tougher than before. Working with Scots is a toughening experience, and don't take me wrong, please. One has to earn their friendship. They can measure you, ignore you, ridicule you, but they can also let you in their hearts and look at you as their equal. They are a bit of a "wild" people - maybe it has to do with the climate: they had to adjust to the rough weather, the harsh winds, the rain, the clouds. The reason I feel this way is perhaps that I came from the other extreme: the people in Portugal were so gentle, with their hearts "outside" and with the question in their eyes: how can I help you? This gentleness was one of the reasons I felt so much at home there.

The Scottish don't pamper you. In a way they make you scramble to your feet and you just do what you should be doing.

It's getting obvious that I've got mixed feelings about Scotland. It is a very beautiful country with interesting people. I'll never forget the sight of the green and brown hills all around, the grazing sheep, the loud cries of those huge seagulls as well as of the bagpipes, and the fresh "transparency" of the air. Still, I didn't feel at home. I was often thinking if I could live here on long term, and I reached the conclusion that perhaps Edinburgh would be the only place...

Up in the Highlands the weather is too cold for me. Yet I have to admit that my allergy not even once bothered me here!

And there are a few things which I wouldn't know had I not spent this past year here. Things that have become important and inspiring.

I owe to Scotland that I've got to know the books of the British writer, Salley Vickers. I borrowed them one by one from the local library. Reading them was a special experience. Her books - although they are very much different from one another - fuse the areas of art, religion, literature and psychology in an enchantingly subtle way. Publishers in Hungary should know about her!

I also owe to Scotland that I've discovered the music of Salsa Celtica. They are a dominantly Scottish band, playing an invigorating mixture of Celtic and Latin American music. Someone commented while listening to them that it is as if there were two different CDs palying at the same time. Well, I think they've got the perfect mixture, and I certainly wouldn't have survived the cold Scottish winter months without them.

And as a fresh "delicatesse", I'm just getting to know another Scottish band's music - they're called Lau. Guitar, fiddle and accordion. It carries you away, it's powerful, it's emotional, and you start to stamp your feet automatically.

Last but not least, I also owe to Scotland the newly found appreciation for my hometown and that the links which tie me to my family and friends have grown much stronger and more emotional.

It is in Scotland that I've learned to embrace the unpredictable turns of life. Making plans doesn't mean you'll be able to turn them to reality. It is perhaps here that I've learned that one should trust the unknown. Go with faith to the place where one feels one must go, even if not sure about what will be waiting there...

Back to Edinburgh once more...

It seems Edinburgh's got the magic. After about half an hour in the Old Town I'm inspired and excited. Circling the streets and lanes with the cobbled stones, looking up at the many towered buildings, feeling the majesty of the Castle up on the hill and the enchantment of the small shops one after the other... A cold wind blows as Saturday's eve falls but I endure.
The wind today is even stronger, although later the spring sunshine warms up the city.
I have a tight schedule. First I'm heading towards the Holyrood Palace, because last time I had no time left to make a visit. Mary, Queen of Scots made it as her home in the 16th century. She said "In my end is my beginning", according to a quote on a bookmark I buy in the Palace's shop. She certainly had no easy life, and to the present day she remains an intriguing figure in history.
My plan to join the "Edinburgh Booklovers Tour" fails. I'm waiting at the appointed place at the appointed time but no one ever comes. So I remain unluckily uninformed about the places, facts and myths that connect to the city's famous writers: Robert Burns, Sir Walter Scott,
Conan Doyle, Robert L. Stevenson, J.K. Rowling. I feel disappointment but make a decision: now I have a good reason to return again in the future!
So what do I do instead? Spend time choosing CDs with the help of a well-informed salesman in a shop specialized in folk and world music. Wander around in the National Galleries of Scotland until I really have to sit down, my feet demand a break.
Then I feel hunger coming... Fortunately I remember from last evening that there are some very promising food stands near Princess Street. The sellers came from France and offer wonderfully smelling dishes. I choose one which is a mixture of potatoes, mushrooms, peppers, onion, cream and cheese. I think the name of the dish starts with a T, although I'm not sure. I eat it on a bench in the Princess Street Gardens in the sunshine, seagulls crying in the background. I'm in Edinburgh but the taste "transports" me to some small French town - if I were Joanne Harris I could start a brand new book right here.
As the crown on top of all I'm attending a concert later at St. Giles Cathedral. Sundays at Six, they call it, because there's one each Sunday. The musicians of the Edinburgh Academy this time, give me a satisfying musical experience.
Tomorrow morning I'll still have enough time to have coffee at the Elephant House and glance at the colorful site of the shops (one blue, the other green, still another orange).
Edinburgh, I'll keep you in my memory's special chest...!

"The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don't go back to sleep.
You must ask for what you really want.
Don't go back to sleep.
People are going back and forth across the doorsill
where the two worlds touch.
The door is round and open.
Don't go back to sleep."

Words from Rumi, Arabic poet and mystic from the Middle Ages

Well, I'm back to Scotland.

I returned to my work at the hotel. Only for 2 months, though. Then I'll say farewell.

I'm not sure if I will be able to provide any interesting news about my life here. My days will look quite the same, and I'll count them one by one, until I can go home. But if I happen to bump into any interesting book for example, I'll let you know. Or if I have any inspiring thought, I'll share them.

Thanks for reading me, anyway!

To those who need these words, on Valentine's day

One of my favourite poems, by W. B. Yeats: The Two Trees
(I heard it sung by Loreena McKennitt)

Beloved, gaze in thine own heart,
The holy tree is growing there;
From joy the holy branches start,
And all the trembling flowers they bear.
The changing colours of its fruit
Have dowered the stars with merry light;
The surety of its hidden root
Has planted quiet in the night;
The shaking of its leafy head
Has given the waves their melody,
And made my lips and music wed,
Murmuring a wizard song for thee.
There the Loves a circle go,
The flaming circle of our days,
Gyring, spiring to and fro
In those great ignorant leafy ways;
Remembering all that shaken hair
And how the winged sandals dart,
Thine eyes grow full of tender care;
Beloved, gaze in thine own heart.

Gaze no more in the bitter glass
The demons, with their subtle guile,
Lift up before us when they pass,
Or only gaze a little while;
For there a fatal image grows
That the stormy night receives,
Roots half hidden under snows,
Broken boughs and blackened leaves.
For all things turn to barenness
In the dim glass the demons hold,
The glass of outer weariness,
Made when God slept in times of old.
There, through the broken branches, go
The ravens of unresting thought;
Or else they stand and sniff the wind,
And shake their ragged wings: alas!
Thy tender eyes grow all unkind:
Gaze no more in the bitter glass.

I never liked January. Even if there are quite a few sunny days, like now.
Before, I only had a kind of empty, barren feeling at this time of the year. By now, it has managed to put a strong dislike into my thoughts.
Last year it put me into the middle of uncertainty concerning my financial situation and "career". It was because of this that I've decided to find work abroad, as you know, in Scotland.
This year it went even farther, if I may use this expression. It's doing its best to challenge my trust in someone. My trust, which has been built with such a surprising joy, with respect, and with love. And perhaps it is not needed anymore...
What if it wasn't January? Would it be the same in March or July or October?
But this is here and now, and it's putting me to the test.
Solution will come, I know.
By that time I'm doing my best to live my life fully, to find those happy hours which sweeten our existence - be it friendships, books, music, or clothes, coffee, lunch. And besides, six more days and January is over!

As I read over the sentences above, I've seen something between the lines. Last year's January pushed me out of a situation, which I couldn't solve here.
Maybe this time it is similar. It's pushing me out, again.
Maybe there is a message.

I'm home now in Komárom. I'll be staying until about the end of February, spending my well-deserved holidays off work. (The hotel is closed for this period of time).
Well, the second half of December was extremely busy. I had five wonderful days in Edinburgh. I've fallen in love with the city. It has a special, historical, sometimes even mysterious atmosphere. I was trying to compare it to some other cities which I had visited already, and I came to the conclusion that to me, Edinburgh is a kind of mixture of Zürich, Bern and Prague. I can't really explain why.
This latest Christmas and New Year had been about work. Lots of work. The hotel was very busy, and all of us were working very hard. There had been some days with "sunshine" as well, like being invited on Christmas Eve by my friend Janice for a glass of sherry; or going with colleagues for a mug of hot chocolate to "Maya" in Strathpeffer. I think they have the best hot chocolate in the world!
Apart from these, I did not really have time for anything else...

And now that I'm finally at home, these past few days I had spent in bed, "battling" a stubborn cold. But I'm almost there now, with the flag of victory in my hand.

I'll be back one of these days, see you...