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A short hitch-hiking conversation on Skye

- Out fur a spot of hill walkin' eh? Where ye gaun?

- Glen Brittle camp site.

- Is that along this way, is it?

- Yes, there's a turn-off about eight miles along the road.

- Okay, jump in then, but ye'll need tae watch fur the turn-aff an' giez a shout.

- Right. thanks.

- Where ur ye fae? No aboot here, that's fur sure.

- Well… I'm living in Kazakhstan at the moment.

- Kazakhstan, eh? Ah thought so fae the beard and yer troosers.

- And you? You're not from here either.

- Naw, Ah'm fae Riddrie. Ah moved up here a couple o' years ago fur the work an' Ah've never looked back. Ah mean, lookit it - it's majic, intit? Bye the way, big man, thae troosers look like they're made oot a pair o' curtains.

- Maybe they are. I don't know. I got them in a second hand shop.

- They've goat second haun shoaps in Kazakhstan, eh? Wid ye credit that. Ah wid huv thought the people oot there wid be too poor tae gie things away tae the second haun.

- The clothes are from Germany.

- Now yer losin' me big man.

- There's companies that buy up loads of old clothes in Germany, give them a quick dry clean and bring them to Kazakhstan to sell. They do the same with second hand cars - BMW's, Volkswagens an' that.

- What? The same companies?

- I don't know. I've never thought about it.

- That would be clever though, eh? Fill up the boot an' the back seats wi' auld clothes. Wid save on transport costs, wouldn't it? An' dae ye speak the language - whit is it? Kazakhstani?

- Well, I speak Russian. Most people still use Russian. What about you? Have you learned any Gaelic?

-Aye. Two words. Government subsidy. Ah'm tellin' ye, man, life up here is cool. Ah'n Ah'll tell ye another thing. See the English? They figured it out ages ago. There's hunners o' them up here.

- So I noticed. They seem to own all the restaurants and petrol stations and stuff.

- Aye, an' they take some stick fur it. Poor buggers. Callin' them incomers, white settlers, English bastards, aw that kinna stuff. Ah mean, ye canny blame them. You're workin' aw yer life just tae afford a couple o' pints wance a week an' some bugger sells his hoose in Milton Keynes an' buys yer local wi' the profit? Sticks the rest in the bank? Ah mean, it's bound tae get up yer nose, intit?

It's no just them but. The English. Ah get it an' aw ye know, comin' fae Glesga. But ah don't care. They kin moan aw they want - Ah'm here tae stay. Ah mean, Ah feel sorry fur the auld yins. It's hard fur them tae accept change, but the fact is, the young yins don't want tae stay. They've hud enough, growin' up wi' the rain an' the midgies, naewhere tae go at night, nae decent joabs. As soon as they're finished school they're offsky. Doon tae London or off tae the yoonyversity. And do they come back? Do they hell. Wance a year at Christmas an' that's it. An' mean while, aw the shoaps an' that ur shuttin' coz there's nae customers. Whit ur people supposed tae dae? See the wans that moan? They don't know whit they want. They don't want the empty hooses an' nae shoaps, an' they don't want the incomers. They want it just the way it used tae be - aw nice 'n' cozy. But it never wiz like that. See me? Ma great granda wiz fae up this way. Goat kicked aff his croft durin' the clearances an' moved doon tae Glesga. His brother went oot tae Canada an' wiz never seen again. It's been happenin' fur hunners o' years. People get thrown oot an' new wans move in. An' then when the auld yins' weans come back, the new yins call them incomers. Ah mean, whit's aw that aboot, eh? That's why I don't care. They can say what they like. There's nae point arguin' wi' them. I just keep ma mouth shut an' get oan wae it.

This looks like your turn aff comin' up, big man. Ah'm goin' straight oan.

- Aye, it is…Glen Brittle.

- Is it faur tae the camp site? Ah mean, Ah'll run ye doon there if it is.

- No. Seven miles. It's okay. The weather's nice. Thanks very much.

- Yer sure? Okay then. Cherio. Huv a nice holiday. Nice speakin' tae ye. Say hullo tae everybody in Kazakhstan.

- Thanks. Bye.