Author: melissamoncada

We are taking a break from our way behind day to day series of blog posts, because today was a difficult day and this blog was meant to house the expressions of my experience and not just the play by play for the spectators (present company included). So I hope you'll indulge me and if not I'll see you tomorrow as I try to catch up on all the days and their adventures.

I have this terrible habit of having quite a few favorite movies and actors. I cant help it, movies are a part of not only my life but of my expression of my innermost turmoil…was that dramatic enough? The truth is that while most people see movies as a form of escape for me they are living expressions of the very things I struggle with, which is why I tend to like sad and chaotic movies. One of my "favorites" is 28 Days with Sandra Bullock not be confused with the horror (which I never do). Go read the synopsis I don't have time to run it down for you, its very late here in Scotland and I need to get this out before my lids close for business. The bottom line is an alcoholic going to court ordered rehab to recover, the court ordered part is important because it speaks to it not being a choice and their not being a recognition of the need, I digress. In the film something happens to our leading lady which has her counselor make her a sign requiring her to ask for help. As I mentioned before I like films that speak for me, this is one of my issues.

Let's break this down..kind of remember I'm tired. I hate asking for help, I mean really who does? No literally do you know anybody?
I hate asking for help for so many reasons, I find it to be a showing of weakness, I want to be able to do things "on my own" and I don't like to be indebted to anybody. It was in rehab that Sandra was faced with real life situations that were harder for her because of her control issues or lack thereof. I always find it interesting how we can be so desperate for control in our lives but then choose a substance which removes our control. These trips I have been taking have always brought out some things I haven't given control up of ( I hope that's proper english if not- bloody hell). When I was in Ireland I learned that being alone is not so bad, that it was nothing I should be ashamed of and in fact in certain moments the solitude was welcome and necessary for emotional work as my therapist would say. In Colombia I learned that their are people who will be there for you when you are literally down for the count, they wont resent you for it and in fact they might even show you a side of themselves you might not have otherwise seen. As I mentioned in one of my earlier posts, I expected to leave something here in Scotland but I wasn't sure what and wouldn't be until I left and could no longer find it in my luggage.

One of the actual reasons I can give as to why Scotland was one of the places I wanted to come, beside the natural landscape and quiet was the Fairy Pools. I happen to love Fairy's, I've had a long standing albeit secret love for them. It wasn't until a few years ago that even my mother found out about it. Anyways, Scotland has had a history of mysticism around fairies, there are even those who still plant certain trees to keep them out of their property. I had seen photos of these pools and heard wonderful stories of their adventures, so it was a must on the itinerary. Today was my last day on the Isle of Skye which is where the pools are located, naturally it was where I was headed.

I had made sure it was really the only thing on the itinerary today, as I wanted as much time as possible to enjoy them. I arrived to the car park and immediately found a space while everyone else parked on the muddy verges on the side of the road. I prepped my bag, tied my hair and wrapped my scarf tightly around my neck and headed for the path. Once at the start I could see the whole path before me, it stretched much further than I imagined, going higher than I imagined, but I was here and I would not turn back. So I headed down the very steep and rocky path. Having been reeling from my accident in Cartagena last year, I took my time watching each step my foot took and carefully choosing where to land. I made it all the way down to my first river crossing. Imagine a massive waterfall running down into a river and then a few rocks placed along the river for you to jump on to get across. I'm not an outdoor person who has had much experience with those kind of adventures, I nice hike with some uphills and some curves is about all I can handle. Jumping onto boulders over freezing rushing waters…um check please?!.

But once again my past experiences flooded my mind- you can do more than you think and people are willing to help. So for 5 minutes I was the alcoholic in rehab learning to ask for help. I waited till this young nice looking couple came to the crossing (I'd been there a few minutes literally trying to be my own hype man). I playfully said " Would you mind terribly helping me across" without hesitation he jumped onto the first rock and extended his hand. He was a Scot by the way …sounds about right. Anyways he took each step first and then guided me along. I thanked him and continued on not realizing this would not be the last river crossing. As I quickly approached the second one I tried to discreetly look behind me and hope he was there and perhaps willing to help again, there he was without hesitation. I laughed as I got the other side and said back to him " what will I do on the way back without you" He so tenderly replied " your brave, you just need to believe it and jump" I managed the next few crossings on my own with a couple of "there ya go" from behind. I reached nearly half way up the pools when the largest crossing appeared before me. This one with 6 boulders lining the way, they weren't gentle steps but confident leaps. I remained frozen…I literally couldn't move backwards or forwards. My fear had paralyzed me and my helper had gone.

As the wind battered against my body to seemingly push me forward, tears leapt from my eyes as my inadequacies were highlighted. I had come to see the pools and to make it to the top, but fairy's aren't real and they weren't whispering in my ear and encouraging me on. All I could hear was the wind whistling my return from whence I had come. But I feared the return too, I needed help forward and I needed help back. I stood at the crossing taking imaginary and artistic photographs, when in reality I was praying for a miracle. God could part the Red Sea surely I could close my eyes and he could return me safely to the start. But no clicking of my sneakers could get me home and time was moving forward without me.

I turned away from the pools I had traveled so far to see and prayed for the strength to cross the rivers home. I trekked past the easier crossings landing on my healed ankle and praying it would stay straight and not twist with the wind. I even managed the second crossing which had me nervous. But soon enough I found myself at the first crossing and there was just no possible way for me to cross. I looked up and around, deciphering whether it would be easier to walk up the grassy mountain at least a mile out of the way to cross above the waterfall and its rushing waters below. I was being unreasonable..I watched children and older women cross with ease.

I waited till it was clear no one around for at least a hundred yards in each direction, although now that I think of it if I would have fallen their distance would have been a problem. Much like a puppy going down stairs for the first time (YouTube it, its freaking adorable) I trepidatiously lifted my foot forward a few times as if the rock would come up to meet me. As many times as I did it no magic happened. I couldn't stay here, I mean realistically I didn't even have gear (as if I would ever have "gear") Finally and ironically the fear of never leaving overcame the fear of falling and I leapt and leapt and leapt until finally I was on solid ground again. As I turned the corner I remembered that damn steep and rocky path except this time my breath was as fleeting as the wind and as I took each step pushing myself higher and higher. I stopped multiple times turning for the view but really I was fighting the tears from those coming down the path. After each break I continued just a bit more until finally I could wait not more, I wanted to be done, so I told myself to not look up, a trick I learned in Ireland and my first hike. I only counted the steps and breaths I took and soon I was making the final steps up the rocks and onto the asphalt which would lead me to the refuge of my car.

As you've noticed I haven't posted any pictures during this rant, truthfully the pictures as I look at them now are full of fear and I am as disappointed in them as I am in my inability to make it to the top of the pools. Back in my car I took off my muddy shoes and tried to calm myself. All those hours driving alone, sleeping alone, asking for that table for 1 and yet I had never felt as alone as I did in that whole trek. I sought solace in the best place, my darling mother, but we couldn't talk so instead I recorded a video and said to myself the things I thought she would say. Growing up Winnie the Pooh was my favorite story, I watched his Grand Adventure well into my teenage years. Well my mama is my Christopher Robin and even though we weren't together- it was her belief in my strength and bravery that pushed me over those rocks and as I drove away and the disappointment began to eat away at me it was only her voice that kept it from succeeding. While I'm not totally lost without her like PB with CR I sure like to think that even when we are apart we will always be together…

For my Christopher Robin

Shall we return to day two?

I left Edinburgh first thing in the morning. The city had turned a dull gray and leaving felt right. I knew I would return with my heart full and my feet ready. The Castle would be my farewell.

As we approached the airport my stomach began to flutter, here I was again now is when the expedition truly began. Finally it would be just me and her rolling hills. I landed in the car on the right side thank god and situated myself. Do you remember when you first started driving you were told to check all your mirrors, adjust your seat and steering wheel- remember how we never did that cause its bullshit…turns out not so much. I spent the next 10 min getting acclimated with the car, she would after all be my companion on this journey. Once I had everything to my liking I said a little prayer and started the car.

It's amazing how fast it all came back to me, driving on the left side of the road again, speeding down one lanes and politely turning in roundabouts, Its incredible how well it all works here. Today was going to be a long day, I was going almost to the top east side of the country and I had oh just about 7 different places I wanted to stop. Why didn't someone stop me??!! The first two were nice and easy just 20 and 40 minutes from Edinburgh respectively. I arrived first in Linlithgow, on a Sunday..

The church bells began to chime before I even closed the car door, all these lovely Scottish people pouring out of their homes and walking up this hill with me..wait I wasn't going to see a church, this was supposed to be a castle in ruins.

Turns out St. Michaels is built on the same property. I gave way to the older folks who seemed to be climbing this hill a lot faster than I was, although giving myself the benefit of the doubt it did seem like they did this every Sunday so basically their calves are used to it. Mine on the other hand were stretching out remembering we had quite a bit of this ahead of us.

She was undergoing some reconstruction in order to conserve some of her most cherished bits. The courtyard was vast with a fountain in the middle full of odd figures, to be honest it felt more like a prison or dungeon than the setting of a once great castle. But perhaps my imagination failed me and I was standing in the middle of greatness.

Truth is that castle will always be special because its were I found my traveling companion a cutie named Jamie. He had fallen in with a bad crowd and they'd left him in one of the dark, cold and wet rooms and he hadn't been able to find his way out. We chatted for a few by a window slit and I decided I'd bring him home to my sister and nephews. They had been looking to adopt for some time but the right bear just hadn't come along.
Next stop on the tour was Blackness..Of course I'm a strong Outlander fan (hello..Jamie the bear) so this place was one of the must sees. While this one definitely felt like defensive posting there was something so tender about it that I cant explain. The way the pier met the bay and I could see her in her glory standing tall even after hundred's of years.
I roamed around for a bit, finding myself in dark empty rooms and wondering what they were used for…did they have dinner in here?
There was so much more for me to go and see, but leaving felt sad. It could have been the dark stormy clouds that loomed above or the bridge I would have to cross in the distance but suddenly everything felt small and I just wanted to stay. Of course logic and reason prevailed which honestly was a rarity I could not deny. I crossed the bridge and headed to St. Andrews…oh you want pics of St. Andrews, well too bad cause I didn't get to see it from closer than my car. I'd talk about it but then this post would turn angry and we are already just barely leaving sadville.

I still had 4 more places to go- except it was nearly 3pm and I hadn't eaten anything…like at all and my eyes were growing heavy. I pressed on hoping my next stop would give me a resurgence of energy. BlackWatch Castle and Gardens. I don't like to be mean but this was pretty disappointing. The castle had been converted into regular rooms and the top floor which would give amazing views of the gardens was closed to the public. I followed the exhibits throughout and when I found myself back int he gift shop without really having "seen" anything I became annoyed, I marched towards the front door desperate to leave and get to at least one more place before my hunger would turn into that little angry devil who pounds on the walls of my head long after he has been satisfied. Yet as I neared the door the display beside it shone as if a light from heaven had illuminated it. It was the perfect or at least I hope perfect gift/souvenir for my lovely mother.
I checked the time and GPS as soon as I entered the car and realized I needed to head out right that moment if I was going to be able to check in and then scavenge for dinner. I left Perth and headed to the seaside harbour of Stonehaven.
My music selection had turned tedious which was when I knew I was entering dangerous boredom territory. I rolled the windows down and allowed the fresh but chilly Scotland air blow on my face. I changed my music to show tunes and sang out with Howard as he blessed my beautiful hide. I imagined these roads were once grass and gravel and wooden carriages of horses ran along them, were the men going into town looking for a bride?
Just as I drifted into the mountains of the Oregon countryside I saw the sign to exit for Stonehaven. I made my way off the "carriage way" and onto my favorite single file roads. The winding turns down made my already upset and hungry tummy turn even more. But alas soon the air turned salty and I knew I was almost home – I went down the harbour and found my B&B, I also found some rain and finally a parking spot. I loaded only what I needed into my overnight bag and rang the doorbell. Sensing my urgency the lovely gentleman who answered quickly led me up the steps to what would be my home away from home for the next couple of nights. He left me as quickly as he found me. the bed called to me by so did the dinner that was waiting just down the cobblestones road. Jamie was exhausted after the drive so I left him for a nap and went for my dinner.
Dinner was short and sweet- Fish slider with Chips and of course a a nice cold pint. I enjoyed the view of the harbour and the sea gulls squawking about the new girl in town. All I could think of was nemo- and I couldn't stop saying harbour with an Australian accent…mind you all this was in my mind.

This is where I leave you, as with Edinburgh what happens after the first pint and the last dram is between me the bartender. Till tomorrow which was like 5 days ago – I know I have catching up to do.

There was this older couple at dinner tonight. They seemed either happily married or at the start of their affair. Considering how publicly they showed their affection I choose to believe the former.
There was something so tender about the way her eyes followed him as he spoke for her, she was in awe that he was hers. Even all these years later. Each time her hand rested on his forearm his legs began to move rapidly attempting to hide his reciprocation. That my friends is the stuff dreams are made of, to remain blissfully in love not oblivious. I say the following with no desire for pity or anything of the sort, however as someone who spends much time alone; eating, drinking and traveling I find myself more equipped to make these assumptions. I know what men look like when they are cheating. There are moments when they look as though they’ve won the lottery and others when they look in fear that they have jeopardized all that means something for something that means nothing. It’s a burden to carry a secret, more when it’s your own.
I’ve been a keeper of secrets and there is a fear that it brings that keeps sleep from your door. Perhaps it is why it has alluded me so long.

Last time I was on this side of the Atlantic I kept finding doors, not in the door to my room kind of thing but rather in gardens and under trees. Guarding nothing…this visit to these cold waters has proved no different. Except these doors are closed and in shadows and all they make me want to do is break the chain that keeps them together.

One of the reasons I like taking these trips alone is I begin to push out the walls of the tiny house I live in. Sometimes taking down entire walls. Traveling alone builds such character and resilience and honestly problem solving.
There are so many unknown variables. The way the roads turn, a mix up with your bed for the evening. To be able to make adjustments quickly without losing your cool and allowing desperation in.

I’ll never forget the end of my trip in Ireland my hotel was apparently on a small island off the coast which I could get to by ferry but my car couldn’t go with me. I accepted my realty and quickly moved towards a new solution. I drove two hours before I knew I would have a place to lay my head.

So many times in life if not all we are constantly moving towards something without knowing if it’ll be there. Some of us are inspired by the unknown while others are crippled by it.

Today which is tomorrow from when this originally was written I was driving to my next bed thinking of the differences between Ireland, Scotland and “home”, when suddenly I found myself at the base of a very large mountain seeing the road hugging its way all the way up. It seemed high but nothing too daunting. I pushed my foot down on the gas. Exhausted and feeling the anxiety of being close but far I felt the car unable to accelerate. I was stuck going 22mph over what I quickly realized was a behemoth. Just when I had believed I reached the top I noticed the top I had seen was simply the base of a larger mountain. I continued my pursuit of its peak. Finally upon seeing more than just sky and the car finally being “nose down” I had reached the top. Almost immediately I noticed a stop to my left a worn down piece of land, I gathered many desired the immediacy of the ground after that ascent and a new path was formed. I stepped out of my car only to feel the cold air against my face but more than that I finally heard what I had been waiting for…nothing. That blissful silence that told me I was alone ..truly alone at the top with only God to hear. I heard him flapping in the wings of the birds flying above me. The tall stalks of grass swaying as if they were dancing the tango. I wanted to sit and stay but a safer place awaited me and I desired nothing more than to arrive.

I owe you a couple of days play by play and they’ll come…be patient..I’m waiting on the whiskey.

I left you yesterday quite abruptly in the middle of breakfast. I believe I explained my predicament of being accosted by a stranger and all sense of reasoning leaving me. Hopefully we'll get to that later today.

After my lovely French breakfast, I finished climbing, against my strong desire to stay and have another croissant. My perseverance was awarded. As quickly as I had made it up that hill I made a turn and was faced with "The Hub" it was on my way to the Castle that sits atop the city.

Towering high above me was this gothic looking structure with its sharp tips daring even the birds to fly too close. The crowds seemed to be walking past this marvel and not even giving it a second glance. I propped myself at one of many cashmere shops lining the street but this one was right in front of this majesty. I stood a few moments, taking photos and attempting to get some without all the ungrateful visitors. After what seemed an eternity I made my way to the left it seemed a much easier walk to the castle. Remember that picture from yesterday- the little red door. It happens to be a local parish and just a second after I snapped that picture the groom and his children walked out. It was the sweetest thing to see him in his kilt with his children in theirs waiting for his bride to arrive. As is always the case, I had to press on, I had already had such a late start to the day and couldn't afford to enjoy this love story any longer. I followed the path along the left side of the Hub enthralled with its beauty.
I reached the end of the road and found the reason it was uncrowded, to access the castle from here steep steps were required. I stood across the street studying them. I had come to Scotland to not only explore but to remove the fear that my accident in Colombia had instilled in me, that I couldn't do the things I wanted. I crossed the street and slowly approached the steps, but the memory of the moments before my accident reminded me that I also learned that taking care of myself was more important than seeing these incredible monuments. I wasn't ready for the ascension that day, but I'll be returning and I know the days preceding that will instill in me the confidence to take those steps without hesitation. I returned down the path and quickly found my next stop.

I've become more and more found of these cathedrals and basilicas that I have been privileged to visit. Not because of the solemnity found within, but rather there reverence that I find in the painstaking etchings of the wood or the crafted marble tombs. It is not the church I find myself reflecting on but more on God who it was built to revere and I feel so sad that I have to travel halfway across the world to find that kind of adoration. I'll continue before this turns into a sermon.
The day carried on mostly with me fidgeting with my camera and walking into the million and one different souvenir shops on the Royal Mile.
Finally I reached the foot of the road and the Queen's home away from home "Holyrood" A magnificent home rich in history and yet ever so present.

But then came the abbey…
How could ruins look so perfect. Even in their discoloration each stone lending itself to the portrait. I stood humbled by its grandeur and saddened at its destruction. I tried my best to drown out the noise of the crowds, to look only forward and up and remove them from my view.
I thank God for a wide angle lens although its difficult to convey the height of the structure I hope I offered it some care.
As I finished walking the gardens I made my way to the exit and the blue clouds that you see turned gray and began to shower me. Never had rain been more welcomed, I tend to overly attach myself to sadness and the rain as cliche as it sounds washed away that sadness.
I found a black cab and found my way once more to the grass market. I reached the top of the stairs with my feet aching and my tummy groaning…just a few minutes and then I'll go get dinner.

Let's talk eating alone, sure so many people tell me "how brave" while others treat it casually as its sometimes a circumstance and not a preference. Well try being a single woman on vacation in a pub at a table alone….mmhmm I'll wait. The truth is the anxiety of walking into a place you've never been is heightened only by doing it alone. I quickly found a table near the back on the side where no one could really see me; I thought.
Of course I parked myself at the only table right next to the stairs down to the "loo", in a pub..with men..drinking beer.. yeah everyone at the bar eventually made eye contact with me. Regardless I enjoyed a pleasant dinner and pint while surveying the locals and the not so locals. A group of women, ok girls really caught my eye. They were being flirtatious and trying to appear older than they obviously were, I remember doing that, I just remember being so much better at it. Meanwhile the group of guys standing at the bar opposite them were clearly not paying attention and it wasn't until I accidentally…I swear laughed out loud at one of the girls swirling a hot glass of Rose that all their eyes darted over to me and one in particular apparently found himself desiring to linger.

Then there was the lobster bisque yada yada yada…aka none of your business.

Finally sleep – as exhausted as I was sleeping here in the city was still too much like home and the tossing and turning ensued. Yet what that day on those streets did was remind me that the fear which clung so tight to my chest on the walk up the hill and as I faced that mountaintop, that fear had dissipated, not disappeared but simply changed into its final form, confidence.
Tonight as I snuggle into new crisp white sheets with the window open blowing the breeze and the sound of the water I know that which I long for is within my grasp.

Till tomorrow
Thigt cadal a 'tighinn

I arrived at my destination last night exhausted and full of fear. The peace of the last journey across the Atlantic was too far in my rear view to draw on for this here moment. As with Ireland my entrance into the lovely city of Edinburgh was wracked with inconvenience and wet and cautious steps. This was why I never do cities, I need the peace and patience that the country offers. I could hear my mother in my ear prodding me onward. How would I cross the Atlantic and be brought down by a faulty door lock…I wouldn't…I couldn't.

As I sunk into that fizzy tub I allowed all that trepidation to wash off me and swirl down that drain. The wandering playlist I had lovingly crafted was reminding me of the sleep that had alluded me these past 28 hours. I begrudgingly turned the knob and watched the water disappear with the relief it warmed me with. I descended into the bed with a warm cup of tea and a lovely shortbread biscuit (aka favorite cookie, must be why I choose Scotland) crap I did tell you I was in Scotland right…oddly enough I'm so used to being secretive that when things are semi public I assume everyone's knows. Ugh I was waxing poetry and launched into some hum drum housekeeping items. Okay give me a moment as I place my Yeat's hat back on.

I pulled the covers against myself as I watched the people in the cobblestones streets below me continue to find their destinations. What would await me in the morning. The fear began to return as the warmth of the bed attached itself to me. The sun was still out but there was no light left in me to give. I allowed my lids to find their rest. Only here on this side of the world does sleep come easy to my weary soul.

I awoke with the first light of the day a meaningful reminder of this time zone and how I have missed it. I lingered in bed a bit relishing the quiet and solitude praying the excitement would conquer the fear of what lied ahead of those double white doors in the grassmarket.
I had chosen the area because of its old town location but also as it was described as a calmly happening place for fun. I love a good conundrum. I finally convinced myself that arriving to Edinburgh and never leaving my apartment would not make a good story and since I gave up my lying days years ago I was faced with facing the city. I pulled the door closed behind me, assuring the ancient lock pulled closed and hid away all the parts of me that are too heavy to carry.

On my way in the taxi yesterday i hadn't noticed I was at the bottom of a hill. Well come this morning my calves quickly started their list of complaints as I made my way up Bow street. As I reached the curve of the road I stopped into a tiny French bakery in the hope of sustenance for the day that lay ahead. Petit Dejuner

Whenever I start these posts I'm somewhere drinking and eating and full of energy, but inevitably a handsome gentleman comes up and starts a conversation with me, causing me to save my draft and offer my full attention. It is only when I lay in my bed ready to retire for the evening that I realize I left off and never returned. Such is the case with this post and unfortunately I'm too tired to finish for you. Perhaps you'll return tomorrow in the hopes of getting a two for one- I hope you get it cause for now the whisky is swirling and I'm shutting down and going to sleep.
I will leave you with a photo however in the hopes you'll come back to hear its story.

As the journeys become more frequent the fear that they normally entail begin to diminish. at least that is what I keep telling myself as I sit on the train watching the country landscape pass me by. There is so much time spent waiting, waiting to fly, waiting to fall. To remember to stop waiting and live the moment becomes a feat more difficult to accomplish than originally envisioned.

In my research for this trip which will be spent on mountain tops and one lane roads they reminded the reader to stop during the drive, reminding me that I am living the destination, to stop and experience the beauty which I traveled so far to marvel at.

There is a bitter sweetness on these journey's- a reminder that I am leaving the comfort of my home and my life to the world unknown to me. The sweetness is remembering that I will leave a piece of me in Scotland, I simply don't know which piece until I board the plane home and I find myself lighter. I am leaving pieces of me all over the world, scattered – this isn't vacation this is a mission. A mission to leave behind pieces of me that have betrayed me and no longer encourage my growth but stunt it. That which has kept me locked in the cages of my past mistakes of the crimes committed against my person. With each plane ride I find myself more willing to let go to and which each mile I remove a block around the wall I built around me.

(Posted later than desired) aka this shit didn't go thru on the train.

As I taxi on this NYC runway I'm taken back to the moment I was last on this pavement making my way home after a piece of me was left behind in this city.

I said goodbye to someone I loved and still love quite deeply. A strong woman who knew to show affection was not weakness but endearment that marked her name on the hearts and minds of all those who knew her.

I struggled greatly with my right to grieve her. But it was only when the plane ascended that I felt God grant her passage to calm my spirit. A gift I've received from a departed loved one before. It is a gift that can free or shackle. For almost a decade I let the first one shackle me…to a pyramid and an etched marble stone. The second one met me in the electrifying moment between certainty and wonderment. It freed me…or at least I choose that path. It's one of the great gifts I attribute to not only God but the woman he allowed me to call Abuela.

I await my next ascension to another journey I intend to blaze. She flies the skies with me. Guiding me and encouraging me to learn and to fail.

Te amo abuelita y te extraño.