I felt at home.

Maybe John Alongi is Scotland’s perfect innkeeper. Perfect by my standards, that is. I want someone who makes me feel at home. As if I’m part of the family. Like I’m no longer a stranger. Wow! Did I get my wish. John and I hit it off. Right from the start. I sensed it from the moment I made the overseas telephone call to make a reservation at the Robert Burns Guest House in Edinburgh. I saw the picture of the place. On a website. On the Internet. A nice three-story mansion. Built in the late 18th century. And only a 5-minute walk from the waterfront in Scotland’s capitol city. Yes, the guest house looked like Edinburgh. Dark, dark architecture. But beautiful. I had never been to Scotland before. And this would be a good introduction. A place to spend my first night, and most of my 10-day stay. Between visits to the Scottish Highlands and the Isle of Skye. With my love from Italy. Coincidentally, John speaks Italian, too. And French. He was born in Italy. But raised in Switzerland, near the French border. And now he speaks good English. With a neat Scottish brogue. Somewhere along the line, John decided to be an innkeeper. He approached it as an adventure. Not afraid to make mistakes. Knowing that’s the way to learn. John’s personality and mine happen to mesh. Nicely. We’re both sort of romantic idealists. In love with life. John may be more gregarious than me. He likes mingling with people. I’m more reflective. And I like to grab my moments of solitude. As a writer. But I still like camaraderie. I like to mix with a handful of kindred spirits. And John is one of ‘em. I felt an instant friendship. A closeness. When I arrived, the Robert Burns looked a little like it had been hit by a bomb. Bricks strewn about. Dust in the air. A wall had been knocked out. To connect the interiors of two adjacent buildings. To double the size of the guest house. To 40 rooms. Yes, we were in the midst of a 10-day construction program. John apologized for any inconvenience. He originally had planned on putting us on the first floor. But the plan changed. We scurried up to the third floor, as far away as possible from the construction. It was never a problem. On the contrary, it turned out to be a godsend. Because the next morning, at breakfast, one of the tables was occupied by three members of the construction crew. Ruaridh, Paul and Bill. And there was vacant space at the table. Too inviting to pass up. I sat down. And presto. I had three more instant friends. With brogues even stronger than John’s. Yes, I was becoming an integral part of the family. These were my colleagues. They helped introduce me to Edinburgh. Took me about. Showed me Scottish hospitality. The night the construction ended, we had a party. On the lawn. In front of the Robert Burns. Wine. Pizza. Everything nice. And the following night, my final one in Scotland, Ruaridh grilled steaks and we gathered in the dining room as if we were all one big family. A blend of Scots, Italians, Spaniards and an American. I felt at home. –Jim Broede