365 Days of Solitude: Island Life

To celebrate the new season and a week of great island weather I decided to update the blog's theme to something with a bit more cheer. Hard to believe it, but two weeks has passed since I've been back to Iona! This week was the first that truly felt like spring. The wind was an absolute, dead calm, and only the slightest bit of chill lingered in the air. From the living room window, a grassland sea gave way to a steel-blue ocean, with the Hebrides in sharp relief against the horizon - a snapshot of paradise if I've ever seen one!

Tomorrow is the first of my two days off for the week. When I first arrived, I had grand aspirations for getting out and exploring during these free days, but these plans gave way to other activities, chiefly cooking, which I have to say has been a welcome substitute. Hiking, exploring, and the like still get accomplished, just at a steadier pace and with a more contented belly! Tomorrow's plans have curtailed accordingly to allow for plenty of kitchen time, while still allowing for the likelihood of getting out for a walk in the afternoon (the chances of this are increasing as the weather continues to improve). All other cooking nights on Iona were left behind this past Sunday when John and Rachel had Eva, Freya, myself, as well as two new arrivals, Katya (an Iona hostel alumnus) and her friend Anne Marie (who will be taking over for Eva next week), as his guests for dinner where we enjoyed bacon and garlic wrapped venison, with "roasties" (I think this is what he called the roast vegetables), cranberry sauce, salad and everyone's favorite course - wine! This was all finished up with warm apple pie and ice cream topped by a healthy dollop of decadent double cream. And let's not forget the post-dessert whisky - this is Scotland after all! By all accounts - a wonderful evening!

Work at the hostel has not been without its fair share of amusing run-ins with people. The one that comes immediately to mind occurred this past weekend when a guest named Ellie asked me where I was from. I gave my standard response of "I'm originally from New Mexico, but now I live in Colorado." Surprisingly, she was surprised by my answer, so I asked why. "Oh well you speak with a weird mix of Scottish and American accents, so I wasn't sure." While she walked off, I stood there nonplussed. I went to my coworker, Freya, and asked if she thought I was speaking with an unusual accent - according to her no. Later that day, I ran into Ellie and her friend Mandy and the subject of my "peculiar" accent came up again. "Where were you before traveling to Scotland?" "Ireland," I responded. "Oh that explains it!" (cue second nonplussed expression for the day). What made this whole occurrence even more bizarre is that they were English and American respectively so it's not like they would be unfamiliar with different types of english accents. I wanted to get to the bottom of this because the interactions were disconcerting (and slightly annoying, it's not everyday that you are interrogated for the way you speak). To settle the case of of the misplaced accent I appealed to John's opinion which was along the lines of "You sound American to me!" And so it was settled - apparently too much sea air can make some people a little bamboozled (too bad blogging isn't Scrabble because I would be killing it with the use of that word ;) ).

Check out John's blog too! http://ionahostel.wordpress.com

Easter Egg of Destiny.

My bothy lies over the ocean, my bothy lies over the sea...

Home sweet home, inside the bothy.

First thing in the morning.

Just hanging around the croft.

Everyone knows the best concrete walls have multiple holes and are held up exclusively by rotting wooden frames.

John doing the honors....

Let the remodel begin!

New frame going up.

Sunset on the first night.

Post-workday walk.

Looks more like tropical waters than something you would expect to see in the north Atlantic.

This is the summer home of a former nurse who now lives in Oban for most of the year. She lived in the crofthouse that John now owns during WWII, but now is 95 years old and blind. This doesn't stop her from spending her summers in her caravan on Iona, sipping pink gin (not exactly sure what this is), and inviting neighbors over for drinks and conversation in the summer evenings. I hope to meet this local legend before departing!