I Loved New Zealand So I moved to Scotland

I once changed my life because strangers in ski boots compared the view to Scotland.

I went on a trip I hadn’t planned, couldn’t afford, with people I barely knew. It was a skiing holiday in Queenstown, New Zealand. Everyone in our group was an expert skier. Except me.

With borrowed thermals and rented courage, I stood at the top of a mountain wondering how I had agreed to any of it.

By the end of the week, I wasn’t wondering anymore.

I realised I could survive things I hadn’t prepared for.

After a few days learning the craft of gliding on skis alongside a class of under-12s on the bunny slope, I ungracefully progressed to the green run.

I developed a system: glide five metres, tumble, retrieve skis, repeat. The run was over 700 metres long. You do the maths. I’ll show you the bruises.

What I didn’t know was that ski runs close — and that there is a garden bar at the bottom of this particular one. Rather than enjoying the television, the patrons were treated to me.

A marshal was dispatched to assist. When I finally arrived at the bottom, the crowd applauded. A mug of mulled wine was pressed into my frozen mitten, and I attempted an Irish exit and failed.

Later that night, after several more warming beverages, a stranger told me he admired my commitment. He said “A lesser person would have given up”.

To be fair, I am a lesser person. It simply hadn’t occurred to me that I could have removed the skis and walked down.

But that small, misplaced praise did something. My pride (and my backside) were bruised, but I felt different. If I could do that, perhaps I could do anything.

For the rest of the trip our little group of four became strangers no more. I listened to their stories — places lived, risks taken, things attempted badly and done anyway — and felt something shift.

Scotland was mentioned often. Mythical. Magical. Wet. Glorious.

They had seen things, done things, felt things. I had an unfulfilling office job and a passport with very little ambition. Bali was my most adventurous story.

When I got home, I made a decision that changed my life.

I moved to Scotland.

I did not ski once.