I spend that week urging myself to pack up home and office, only succeeding when the deadline is finally concrete enough to be felt (TODAY) - as always. In the spare hours I do last beers, last dinners, last office visits, last shopping spree, last goodbyes, last.... Sometimes I realize what's happening and a few (or many) tears escape, sometimes I don't and I keep telling myself I'm moving to another country.
At the airport any potential goodbye stress is neutralized by the need to beat Ryanair's baggage policies. How do you redistribute 45 kilos in four bags so that they become 40 kilos in three bags? My team of goodbye wavers succeeds (luckily, not everyone is good at maths), while in my head all thinking processes have been disrupted by reality's belated landing. The security lady challenges my ein Bisschen Deutsch to ask about my teary face ("Alles gute!") but all the same confiscates a bottle of styling stuff.
At the gate a man in kilt is my official first contact with Scotland before even actually getting there. But before the second contact I need to get through the next step in Ryanair's policy to make you feel as ill treated as possible so that you are sure you're not overpaying them: why do they let us walk to the plane in the pouring rain only to let us stand in line outside?
A plane, bus, train, taxi and lots of money as well as Laurel&Hardy-like scenes involving four bags and a Tall Latte later I arrive in Glasgow's suburb Highwood armed with only a lukewarm burger king burger standing in for dinner. I come home to something resembling our favourite Ecuadorian accommodation, 'spartan but welcoming' (Lonely Planet Ecuador). My room is spacious, but that's partly due to it being fitted only with one small closet (or one power outlet for that matter, but that doesn't explain the spaciousness). And speaking of power: Scottish put switches where Dutch-bred people don't expect them. There are eight switches in the kitchen, but the one for the only lamp is in the living room. This knowledge will later come in handy when looking for the light switch in the workplace toilet.
But one cannot look for the light switch in the workplace toilet before actually having found the workplace. I get up early to make sure I made it on time and end up arriving exactly one minute late as was to be expected (though some would say this is an improvement). It doesn't matter: my introductory appointment turns out to consist of a) getting the key b) being shown to my room. The rest is for tomorrow.
A suitcase pretending to be a shelf.
Comments
You've made it through the first days, so the rest will be easy breesy.