Scotland - Day 11

So today marked my last day in Scotland. The weather in the morning was fitting – gray, chilly, and rainy. I made my way from Oban to Glasgow, skirting Loch Lamond, which is supposed to be a favorite holiday spot for Glaswegians, but it looked dreary to me in the weather, so I didn’t make any stops.

It took me a little while to navigate Glasgow to find my car rental drop off, but I did so without too much fuss. Unfortunately, a series of mistakes led me to pay for an extra day. I’m rather irritated about it and plan to write a letter because I feel I was treated poorly. I was almost through my checkout when the attendant mentioned I had not filled up the tank.  I had simply forgotten in the stress of navigating the city, so I asked how much it would be to have the rental service do it, and she said 48 pounds. Gas is expensive here, I had 3 quarters of a tank, and that’s about 75 US dollars. I said I’d rather fill it up myself, so she kindly gave me directions to a “nearby” gas station.  It took me a while to find it, including several wrong turns, but finally I did and topped her off/ However, upon my return (probably 45 minutes later), I was told I was now outside the grace period and now had to pay for an extra day. I couldn’t believe it – I’d arrived on time and had not even been warned I was risking the fee if I didn’t speed back. Between topping of my car and the extra day’s fee, I ended up paying close to 45 pounds, which is almost what I would have paid to do nothing, but at least then I would have been spared the stress of wandering about downtown Glasgow and would not have lost nearly an hour of my afternoon to explore Glasgow. I was so taken aback; I only protested a bit – the attendant indicated she couldn’t do anything anyway because it was automatic in her system. But in fact, she hadn’t even really told me I was be charged an extra day – I had to ask, because the amount seemed higher than I had originally been quoted. I imagine she hadn’t called it out because she was embarrassed. I don’t blame her, although I would have appreciated a warning.  I think it’s a ridiculous corporate policy that is entirely antithetical to customer service. I can’t imagine nickel and diming a customer like this. It would have been different had someone been waiting for the car or were they very busy, but neither were true – it was a lazy Monday afternoon, and they had a surplus of cars sitting around.

In any case, I took a cab to my guest house and then took off by foot in search of food. I eventually stumbled upon a crepere, where I picked up a crepe with pesto chicken and emmenthaler cheese, which I ate in the central square of Glasgow, George Square. I then followed a self-guided walking tour layed out by my traveling companion Rick Steves. Other than some nice walking malls, Glasgow is fairly bleak. It’s hard to put my finger on it, but it simply doesn’t have the charm of many European cities, although it certainly does look European.  Rick Steves had warned that Glasgow wasn’t terribly exciting, which is why I had only left an afternoon for it, so perhaps I was biased, but it seemed true to me.

Along the way, I happened upon what I think is the only gothic cathedral in Scotland.  Apparently the rest have been torn down by religious movements over the centuries.  No trip to Europe is complete without visiting at least one of these magnificent beauties.

Glasgow Cathedral

By the time I was wrapping up my walking tour, I finally started to feel truly homesick and was excited to get on a plane to head home. Interestingly, my cab driver had mentioned to me that a movie starring Brad Pitt had recently been filming in Glasgow, which they had made up to look like Philadelphia. It’s seemed to me a sign that it really was time to return to Philly. (The movie, by the way, is supposedly a high-brow zombie movie – I know, what!? – and is apparently using a highly lauded script that has a similar feel to Children of Men).

Scotland - Day 10

Today I made the brief trip from Fort William to Oban and made my first and only somewhat regrettable mistake on my journey. I had hoped to make it to Oban in time to make it to Iona, the tiny island that is considered the birthplace of Christianity in Scotland. To get there, you have to catch a ferry from Oban to the island of Mull, take an hour plus bus ride across Mull, and then take another ferry to Iona. Because it’s such a process to get to Iona, where you supposedly get about 2 hours, you have to catch the first ferry of the day.

I knew this schedule and thought I left enough time. However, I got held up on the journey by some unforeseen delays on the road (I should have learned to expect these by now – they happen wherever you go – it always takes longer than you think). I still made it to Oban with time to spare, but ended up going to the wrong side of town. Once I figured out how to get to the ferry, I got close, but again had trouble finding the correct parking lot. When I finally figured out the right parking lot (and I wasn’t totally sure), I realized I only had a few minutes to make the ferry. But suddenly my stomach felt very upset and I lost my motivation to hurry to the ferry. In a couple minutes, I heard them call out the last call to board and realized I really wasn’t going to make it. Soon enough, I watched the ferry head off for Mull.

In retrospect, I was disappointed I didn’t make it all the way to Iona. It would have been a beautiful day to see the island. And actually what I most wish I could have experienced was the bus ride across Mull, which is usually fully narrated by the bus driver with all kinds of interesting tales. I shouldn’t have cut the timing so close. But luckily, I did find an alternative so as not to waste the whole day. I took a ferry to Mull and then a short ride bus ride to Duart Castle.

 This is the home castle of the MacLeans, which is still lived in by the chief of the clan. Unlike Eilean Dolan Castle, which is used as a vacation home, my understanding is that Duart Castle really is a full-time home. It wasn’t particularly unique from the other castles I saw, but I do love castles, and I found an interesting story, below:

One benefit of missing the trip to Iona was that I ended up taking what was maybe my best photograph of the whole trip:

The ferry to Mull.  I love this photo, with the lines of the boat and dock  almost intersecting with the lines of the clouds.

One thing my journeys to the Isle of Skye and Mull has led me to further grasp is that Scotland is not only an island nation, but also nation of islands. There are quite a number of populated islands on the west of Scotland, several of which are quite large (among them Skye and Mull). There is quite a network of ferries to move about the islands. I remember learning that Great Britian always had a powerful navy, but it never occurred to me how central water travel was to the inhabitants of the island, probably even more so in Scotland than England.

To conclude the day, I chose a local pub for dinner called Cuan Mor. I really liked the interior – wood and metal, mostly collected from beaches along the west coast of Scotland. In contrast to my expensive and disappointing dinner the night before, this dinner was relatively inexpensive and delicious. The main course was absolutely delicious: chicken stuffed with pork sausage and pistachios, in a Drambouie cream sauce, on a layer of mash potatoes. Simply excellent. (Although I could have passed on the beer – similar to a number of other Scottish beers, I wasn’t a big fan, probably in part because it’s too smooth and not carbonated enough for my taste).

Scotland - Day 9

Today was the day I would climb my first mountain that could claim it is the tallest within its nation’s borders. Now in the grand scheme of things, Ben Nevis is not all that tall, but it’s certainly not an easy hike. In preparation, I stuffed my bag full of warm clothes and other handy things, including my headlamp, just in case. I even emailed my plan and contact info to Nikki in the event I didn’t turn up that evening.

The hike started off quite rainy, and I covered myself head to foot in rain gear. If this whole hiked was going to be in the rain, it was not going to be a very enjoyable adventure, but I was determined to make my ascent – it was my only day for an attempt. Luckily, only 15 minutes into the hike, the rain subsided and the sun itself (seen only rarely in Scotland it seems) made an appearance. I was more than happy to take off my rain gear, as the trail was becoming steeper and I was getting hotter – “breathable” rainproof gear is only mildly effective in my opinion.

I made good time up Ben Nevis, reaching the summit right around 3 hours, including a few stops for photos along the way. Even though the last hour had been in a damp cloud, I was so hot from the effort of ever-ascending that I was down to a t-shirt. But as soon as I stopped moving, I realized how cold it had become, and quickly stripped off my damp t-shirt and put on all of my other clothing to try to stay warm.

Looking back at a mountain loch halfway to the summit of Ben Nevis

The cloud line was clearly defined

At the top, it was very foggy and crowded.  It was a strange scene.  I had to wait  in line for a summit picture.

The summit of Ben Nevis - a eerie and crowded spot

Climb the tallest mountain in a country - CHECK!

Scotland - Day 8

Today I bade goodbye to the Isle of Skye, sadly. When and if I come back to Scotland, I will definitely be back to this beautiful isle for more. I considered doing another hike in the Cuillen hills (shorter this time), but I was a bit tired from my hike the previous day and didn’t want to wear myself out for tomorrow’s ascent of Ben Nevis, the tallest mountain in Great Britain.  It was also a bit rainy, so it felt more like a travel day than a day for hiking. I had planned a different route out of the Isle of Skye, which this time involved a fairy ride back to the mainland. Aside from simply wishing to see some new scenery, I had chosen this route because it is supposed to be quite beautiful and follows closely the route of a famous train. In fact, this very train was used for parts of the Hogwarts Express in the Harry Potter movies. I wasn’t going to ride it since I had a car, but thought it would be fun to at least see some of the tracks and the scenery.

But, as it turned our, shortly after leaving the ferry, I noticed the train was moving almost parallel to me. Suddenly and spontaneously, it occurred to me that I should try to get some shots of the train. It’s an old train, after all, and puts out a beautiful long trail of smoke behind her. Before long, my race with the Hogwarts Express had begun. I would come upon an area that either was in view of the tracks, or seemed to be close to the tracks (based on intuition, mostly), park my car, sprint to a good viewing point, get out my camera, and inevitably, just as I was getting ready the train would come roaring by. The first time I was late by literally just a few seconds and could only really capture its smoke trail as it shot off through the woods. I would sprint back to my car and peel off in search of the next viewpoint. It seemed like each time, I would get a little closer. Finally, at the fourth stop, at a famous viaduct in which the train is often seen in photographs, I had the train beat by a few minutes. I scrambled over a fence and up a rocky embankment to get some photos of the train crossing the bridge. As I clambered up the wet and muddy rocks, I could hear the train coming in the distance. But finally I had it beat and was able to get off a few good shots before it sped on. Unfortunately, a poorly placed electrical line blocked some of the best shots, but I think a few will be usable.

From there, I took my time into Fort Williams, only stopping to snap a few shots of Ben Nevis, its summit shrouded in clouds. I had a decent meal at a local pub downtown, and then headed to bed early in anticipation of tomorrow’s ascent.

Scotland - Day 7

Today was my day to explore the Isle of Skye (Cloud Island in Gaelic) and the weather was extremely cooperative. It was a fairly sunny day for a change – the perfect day for a hike. I began the day with intentions of driving all the way around the Trotternish peninsula on the northern end of the island with a hike in the midde, but things did not play out quite as I had hoped.

As soon as I began to drive up the east coast of the peninsula, spectacular views of the mountains and seaside cliffs greeted me. I seemed to be pulling over every mile in order to take pictures. A key stop included Kilt rock, which is a cliff on the sea that is said to look similar to a kilt, which it does with vertical ridges that look almost like pleats.

Kilt Rock

After a quick break for lunch, I headed up a side rode towards the center of the peninsula towards my mid-day hike. (For the most part, my lunches have been very light – the heavy Scottish breakfasts have left me full until 2 or 3 in the afternoon. But today I wanted to at least get a little something additional in me before I began my hike.) The hike I had chosen is called the Quirang, which none of my books seem sure of what it means. I made my way up a very narrow and steep road that led to a low ridge from which the hike begins.  From there, I parked (had to park in a “passing place” because the parking lot was full – popular hike, apparently) and started out by foot.

I had borrowed a hiking guidebook from my B&B that said there was a difficult side trail up a narrow ridge on the right that was only for skilled scramblers, so I naturally naturally headed up the first ridge I came to. One side was a rocky cliff, and the back side was a very steep grassy hillside. Even the grassy side was incredibly steep, and I found I had to zig-zag to make progress.  There were little mini-grass ridges all along the hillside which I tried to stick to. Presumably these are created by sheep as they make there way up and down the hills. Without them, the hillside was so steep, there was serious risk of slipping and then tumbling down the hill. I finally summitted the ridge, snapped some photos, and then slowly descended the other side of the ridge, only to have to then make a rather difficult ascent back up to the trail.

The whole time I had hiked this ridge I had not seen a real trail. I presumed this was because it was so challenging and out of the way that most people avoided it. However, as I made my way along the path, I discovered a side trail to my right which ascended another rocky protrusion.  And that’s when I discovered my mistake – I had gone off piste in my eagerness to climb something challenging.

My next adventure involved hiking up a very steep scree field to my left between a rocky pinnacle and cliffs. It was so steep and there were so many loose rocks, I started several rolling down the path. Each time it would happen, I would stop and watch its progress, ready to shout out a warning to anyone below, but luckily they would stop each time as if by their own will.

After some more exploring, I descended this area (luckily by a less treacherous route), and continued on the trail towards a pass that would lead me up to the overhanging cliffs atop the mountain. I was hiking at a fast pace (at times jogging), and soon found myself on the ridge and ready to make my way back to my car.  As I ascended the ridge towards the summit of the mountain, I was quickly surprised by how different these mountains are from what I am used to. Probably because they are so old, the tops of most of these mountains are not a peak, but rather a long “gently” sloping side on one end that leads up to a cliff face on the other (by gentle I mean not as steep as a ridge, but still an incline worthy of significant effort). These sloping sides are covered in heather (thick, soft plants low to the ground) and look like a giant sloping field raised in the sky. As I neared the summit, the field became less steep and the path became less clear. Once I actually reached the summit, the only trail I could make out at all was the one I had just come up. Confused, I headed in what I thought was the right direction. Soon, I saw some hikers in the distance and started to follow them.  Before long, I found that I was hiking towards what were actually probably sheep farmers, and I began to find the going quite challenging, as the ground became increasingly wet and uneven. Before long, I was stepping on heather and other spongy plants that would sink down until water was poring over the tops of my shoes, and I was quite disoriented. Eventually, I decided I must be going the wrong way and decided to turn around and try to make my way back to the summit. Luckily, I was able to find it, and tried a new route down, which also ended in me being confused and frustrated. At this point the sun, was starting to dip and I began to become a little nervous. I probably still had 3 hours of sunlight, but I had neglected to bring my headlamp (I had packed it, but thought this hike would be short enough that there was no way I would need it - lesson: always bring a flashlight). After some consideration, I decided to go back down the way I had come until I found the cliff face, and then follow it around until I could not proceed or I hit the trail. (In the former case, I was probably going to have to rectrace my steps the whole way I had come in, which was going to be significantly longer, but at least I would know the way).

Thankfully, my plan worked out and I soon found what seemed like a reasonably well-travelled trail. 30 minutes later, I could see the parking lot, and another 30 minutes and I was safely in my car. Unfortunately, between my excursions off the trail and getting a wee bit lost, I had spent most of the day on my hike, so I wouldn’t have time to see some of the other sights I had planned to visit. Nevertheless, overall it had been a great hike with lots of adventures and good views.

After a quick nap back at my B&B, I headed back into Portree for dinner. Unfortunately, I hadn’t made reservations (was this really necessary in mid-September). Every restaurant I went to either was fully booked or was about to close down. (It was close to 9, and apparently in many parts of Scotland, restaurants close their kitchens about that time. This shocks me because I imagine everyone eating a rather late dinner in Europe, but this does not hold true for at least Scotland). Eventually, I returned to the same place I had eaten dinner the night before and they were happy to serve me. It would have been nice to try somewhere new, but at this point I was famished and my dinner the night before had been quite good.  I ended up opting for fish and chips because after the afternoon’s exertion, fried food sounded amazing and seemed well-deserved.

Scotland - Day 6

For reference, Scotland is about the size of Maine, but has the population similar to the Philadelphia metro area - both are somewhere around 5 million. (To keep things in perspective, Maine's population is far less, at a little over 1 million). In any case, it's helpful to understand that Scotland is dramatically less densely populated than England, even though they are both located on the same island.

I forgot to mention yesterday that at Blair Castle, I heard what was very likely the worst bagpiper I've ever witnessed. About three times a day, at predetermined times, someone goes to the front of the castle and plays. I like the bagpipes and thought the setting in front of a real Scottish castle would be particularly cool. Now I don't pretend to be a bagpipe connoisseur, but this bagpiping was just terrible. While the high notes on a bagpipe can sometimes sound whiny, this guy sounded just horribly out of tune in addition to particularly whiny. I simply took a few pictures and then walked back inside the castle to avoid the noise.

Scotland - Day 5 (Part 2)

After leaving Pitlochry, I headed north and made my first stop of the day just up the road at Blair Castle. It's quite a pretty white castle, but looks more like a mansion, as it was transformed some time back by its wealthy owners after it was no longer needed as a defensive structure. After some internal debating, I decided to tour the inside of the castle and was glad I did. I nothing else, it has convinced me that I in fact do want a castle. You can call me Lord Warner. They also allow weddings to take place at the castle (I'm not sure if you have to be descended from the right crown, or simply offer up enough cash). They had a few pictures of weddings taking place there and they really did look fantastic. They actually clear out the main dining room in the castle of all its historic wears and allow the formal dinner to take place there. It looked absolutely spectacular. And now I've actually found the pricing online, and it's really not that out of the world. I'm shocked.

After having visited several very old buildings in Scotland, I'm noticed that whoever manages these things is obsessed with the most minute details about all of the random artifacts found in the castle. It all quickly blurs together and becomes rather meaningless to me, so tend to read signs selectively, focusing on those things that truly interest me or random facts. For instance, in this castle I learned that woman's makeup at one point in history was wax based. If they got to close to the fire, there face would literally begin to melt. I think this would make them look less pale, and God forbid women look like they ever saw the light of day. Apparently they designed these special screens for fireplaces just for the purpose of diminishing the heat. It must have been quite the relief for women when new forms of makeup were invented that allowed them to look both sickly and enjoy the warmth of a fireplace.

Outside of the castle, I actually made a very exciting discovery. I met my first shaggy cows! Here's a photo I took of one - they look like hippie cows. I think this one is stoned.

From Blair Castle, I headed what I think was Northeast towards Speyside, which is the whisky capital of Scotland. There are so many high quality distilleries there, I had a hard time deciding which one to visit. But finally I opted for Glenfarclas because it is still family owned (most are corporate owned by what I can gather) and has a reputation for producing high quality whisky. It was a nice tour (almost as good as Edradour, even though they had claimed no one was as good as theirs and no one else would take me through the middle of the distillery or let me take pictures - both of which Glenfarclas did). The only disappointing thing about the visit was that everything in their store is exported to the US, so I didn't have the opportunity to by anything that is hard to find back in the states.

One of the many things I've learned about the Scots that I didn't previously know was that they have a reputation for being fairly frugal. At Glenfarclas, what this means is that they don't make any whisky unless they can pay for it. They don't have any debt. So everything in their numerous warehouses has already been paid for, meaning they are sitting on a literal gold mine of whisky waiting to be bottled over the upcoming years - it must be millions upon million of dollars worth. As I was leaving the store, I saw a friend come in with who I think was the owner. He gestured to one of the cashiers to grab a bottle his friend - it was a bottle of 40 year old whisky. Must be nice - that's at least a $500 bottle.

From Speyside, I headed towards Inverness, with one last stop at the Culloden Battlefields, location of the last significant battle on the British Isle. At this battle in 1745, English troops (with a few Scots) fought against the Jacobites led by Bonnie Prince Charlie, who had snuck into the Highlands to recruit Scots to help restore the Stewart dynasty. Had they been successful in their rebellion (and they may have had a chance), the world may be a very different place. The American Revolution happened only a few decades later, in part sparked by higher taxes the British were employing, in part to pay for past and present wars. It sent chills down my spine to consider how important this battle was in determining the direction of the world. It's also a very important event for Scotland, as the Jacobite defeat led to outlawing of much of Highland culture, not the least of which was the tartan and kilt.

Speaking of tartans, I've noticed the front of some Scottish 18-wheelers are painted in a tartan. It's something else to see one of these trucks barreling towards you on these narrow roads with this paint job. It's almost like being rushed by a giant rowdy Highlander.

One final note on my dinner covered in the first post for the day. I finally tried haggis. Well, not really, but my steak had a haggis sauce. I'm not really sure what a haggis sauce is, but I don't really want to find out. I can report that whatever it was tasted quite nice, though.

Scotland - Day 5 (Part 1)

I have officially reached the Highlands, marked by a road sign welcoming me! I arrived in Inverness this evening, known as the capital of the Highlands. It's a beautiful little city nestled along the Ness river. Ness, by the way, flows into the famous Loch Ness (Loch is the Scottish term for lake).
For dinner, I chose a restaurant along the river called The Kitchen, where I had a delicious steak followed by what I can only describe as the perfect apple crumble. The restaurant has three stories with large glass panes on the front overlooking the river. Here is a picture I took from my table - note the castle in the upper right.

More to come in part 2...

Scotland - Day 4

Today I spent the morning exploring St. Andrews. It's a fairly small town, but has some quite interesting remains of an old cathedral and castle. At one point in history, it was the Christian capital of Scotland. Some important relics, including some of the supposed remains of St. Andrew had been brought to St. Andrews, which also made it a key destination for pilgrimages. St. Andrew, by the by, is the patron saint of Scotland. If you'll recall, the Scottish flag is blue with a white X. But the X is actually a diagonal cross representing the martyrdom of St. Andrew, who was crucified diagonally at his request, as he did not feel worthy of being crucified in the same manner as Christ.

The castle remains were not terribly exciting, although they are right along the shore and so made for some nice photographs. However, the castle grounds also contain an ancient siege tunnel. At one point when the castle was under siege, the attackers had attempted to borrow under the castle with the hopes of laying explosives to bring the down the castle walls. What's particularly interesting is that the men in the castle heard the mining underway and began digging what is referred to as a counter-siege tunnel. After a couple missteps, they were able to connect with the siege tunnel and foil the plot. The cool thing about this is that the tunnels are still there, and you can climb down into them. You start from the castle side, where the counter-siege tunnel was dug. It was clearly done frantically, as it is very small - you practically have to crawl through it. But then you come to the original siege tunnel, which is quite wide and even had steps carved into it. Unfortunately, they've walled off the opening to that end, so you then have to crawl your way back out. It's not terribly long (it's amazing how close to the castle walls they started digging this tunnel), but it's still not for the feint of heart or claustrophobic. In fact, there's a big warning sign that says you may explore, but at your own risk. What particularly impressed me about the siege tunnel was that it, and the counter tunnel, were "dug" into solid rock. It would have actually been quite an effort requiring a number of tools and a bit of time. You can even still see the first two missteps of the counter-siege tunnel before they discovered the right direction to intercept the attackers.

My next stop for the day was Pitlochry, where I planned to spend the night. I decided I would take back roads to explore the countryside. Pitlochry is considered a sort of gateway to the Highlands. As I got closer along the back roads, they got narrower and narrower, until finally they didn't even have a dividing line for oncoming traffic and are barely wide enough for 2 cars. In fact, it got to the point where I was slamming on the breaks and veering as far off the road as possible. (This brings up another issue with driving on the opposite side of the car - I have a good sense of how far a car extends to my right, but very little sense of how far it extends to my left. It's not a transferable "skill", like shifting with the other hand, but rather a spacial sense that takes time to learn and hone. This made getting over as far as possible, without driving the car into a muddy bank, or worse, a stone wall, rather nerve wracking). To raise the stakes a bit, I started encountering one lane bridges that are raised, so incredibly hard to see what is coming the other way. And finally, I entered an area with unfenced grazing land for sheep. I'd read that sometimes sheep will wander onto the road so you have to be careful, but I didn't realize there weren't any fences, so the sheep could easily wander onto the road. They seems to like to stand or lay down right next to the road, making you wonder if they'll suddenly become suicidal right as you pass. In any case, narrow roads, driving from the right seat, and sheep so close you can reach out and pet them made for harrowing drive in Pitlochry. The whole experience made a sign I'd seen earlier in the day that much more ridiculous. It had read: "Watch out for red squirrels" with a giant explanation point below it for added effect. Really, squirrels!? I really couldn't are less about a squirrel wandering into my path. Good riddance is about all I'd think.

Upon my safe arrival in Pitlochry, I made my way to Edradour distillery. It prides itself as Scotland's smallest distillery, where they still do it the old fashioned way. Only 3 people are actually directly involved in making the whisky. They do, however, have a very nice tour, where they show you most of the facilities, including their barrel storage facility, which included a 1966 barrel from the famous Glenfarclas distillery which they plan to age 5 more years. At that point, it will be 50 years old, and worth maybe 2,000 pounds a bottle. With roughly half of the whisky evaporated at that point, I still calculate that one barrel's dollar value to be somewhere around half a million, at the low end.

At the end of the tour, they take you to a store where you can buy all sorts of whisky. Edradour is reputedly rather difficult to find in the US, but it is possible (and frankly, it's only rated as mediocre), so I opted to buy one of their more unusual options, a cask strength 14 year old whisky that spent part of its life aging in barrels that had previously been used for Barolo (one of Italy's finest wines). As a whisky ages, it becomes smoother, and most base level options are aged 8-10 years, so this one should hopefully be fairly smooth, and unique. (Cask strength means that it hasn't been watered down to 40-43% alcohol for mass distribution; instead, it's more like ~54% and will benefit from adding water upon tasting).

While in Pitlochry, I grabbed lunch at a local deli. I asked for a recommendation, and was given an absolutely phenomenal sandwich featuring sliced duck. I'm not sure I've ever had sliced duck on a sandwich like this, but I would do it again in a second. Overall, it's a charming little town. Oddly though, on my way back from dinner at Victoria's, I wandered past a little takeout Chinese restaurant. Suddenly, I felt like I was back in Philly. It was very odd. It certainly does not fit in this charming little town at the edge of the Highlands, although it at least didn't have a bunch of shady characters hanging around.

Scotland - Day 3

Today was the day of reckoning. Knowing what awaited me, I took my time in the morning, which did at least give me the opportunity to line up several more of my B&Bs along my journey. (I've decided on a route that goes counter-clockwise through Scotland, starting in Edinburgh and ending in Glasglow).

At last the time came, and I took a bus to meet my destiny. Shortly thereafter with decidedly little fanfare, or instruction for that matter, I was handed over the keys to a black Ford Focus hatchback. Poor car. I'd asked for a small car when I originally booked it with an American saleswoman. By American standards, is reasonably small, but my British standards, it is not that small. I wanted small to navigate all of the narrow roads. In any case, I meticulously scoured the outside for dents and other damage, as I was sure I would leave plenty on my own and didn't want to get blamed for others' mishaps as well.

As my last question before being taken to the chopping block, I asked the attendant what the easiest way to Stirling was, pointing out that I had never driven on the other side of the road before. He said that it was simple. I only needed to go around an extremely busy roundabout and then make a right turn onto a heavily trafficked road. Those were the two things I wanted most to avoid as I was first learning the ropes: roundabouts (which way do I go around it?) and right turns (equivalent to our left turns - which way do I look?). And then he left me with a "good luck". Alas, I said screw that, I tried to make my own way that would involve mostly left turns - the easy ones. Making up my own route quickly turned into getting quite lost in Edinburgh, as I didn't have a good map and had turned down an optional GPS, as they wanted around $150 for one for 8 days. (I had pointed out that it was ludicrous to charge me that much to rent one when I could purchase one for the same price, but they did not relent. Business opportunity? I'll rent them for $100 a week, thus significantly undercutting the competition, and still have an incredibly lucrative business.) Moreover, my stomach was in my throat as I nervously chanted to myself: stay left, stay left.

Before long, I discovered that I was headed directly towards the castle and the Royal Mile, the busiest and most confusing part of the city. Change course, change course! Before long, I began navigating by the sun, which, with a little help from a cartoon map, finally put me on course towards my destination, Stirling Castle. And an hour later, I had successfully arrived at my destination, the favored castle of the Stewart dynasty.

Along the way, I had learned some interesting things about driving a car with the steering wheel on the opposite side (the right side). For one, it's not a mirror image of American cars. Some things are on the same side, but others are not. It leads to a lot of confusion, because even if you can compel yourself to do the opposite of what your instincts tell you, sometimes you find that doesn't work either. For instance, the pedals are arranged the same as in our cars. This in particular is a godsend, because I'm driving a stick, and if the pedals were different, I'd probably already be dead. It would have been too many things to adapt to at once. However, the stick itself is not on the left, so I've got to learn to shift with the other hand while driving with the right. The blinker is still on the left of the steering wheel, which is a little odd to me, and causes a lot of confusion because my instinct is to use the hand on the wheel. In my Subie (or any American manual), since I'm driving with my left hand, I can flick the blinker with my hand on the wheel while shifting with my right. But now, since the blinker is on the same side of the steering wheel as the stick, I have to remember to blinker before shifting, or vice versa. The result is that I'm not using my blinker a whole lot. Other smaller things include reaching to the left to grab my seat belt, only to discover its on my right. For some reason I can't get past it - I think it's because putting on a seat belt is so subconscious for me, it never even comes to the conscious level until I reach to the left and my hand grasps at air. On a more embarrassing note, by the end of the day, I'd walked up to my car on multiple occasions to get in and drive away to discover I was opening the passenger seat door. It starts to all become very confusing - stay left, but sit right, shift with the left, but continue to hit the blinker with the left, drive with the same feet, but only after putting on the seat belt from the other side. Oh, and I keep looking in my right side view mirror to see what's behind me because my instinct is to look right when I want to look in the rear view mirror. And in case you are wondering, the ignition is still on the right. Now I'm not saying any of the design aspects I'm struggling with don't make sense - only that it's very challenging to upend your instinct when it's only some stuff, but not everything. It's hard enough to reverse the thing, but less with discretion.

Stirling Castle itself was pretty cool and competes with Edinburgh for its share of important history. It got so crazy, Scots would lose it to the English, then regain it, at which time they would raze the bloody thing to prevent the English from taking it again. I think this happened at least twice. It's rather silly when you think about it. The castle was actually used to garrison Scottish troops until the 60s, so it's revitalization as a historic landmark is a fairly modern occurrence. In fact, the royal palace was just refurbished for a whopping ~$20 million and just 2 months ago inducted by the queen. One of the buildings they painted with a gold-colored plaster, which looks odd at first, until you learn that in its heyday under the Stewarts, the whole castle was actually this color to show off their power and riches (and poor taste in my opinion). I'm sure the gold castle on its hilltop did look pretty impressive.

Around the castle, you find lots of unicorns. They were a pretty popular creature at Stirling C, at least in part because they represent Christ. I don't totally get it, but I think it has something to do with purity and uniqueness. During the tour of the royal palace, I also learned that the fancy bedrooms the royalty kept, with their big beds surround by draperies, were actually not used to sleep in. They existed to display the power and wealth of the person, while they actually often slept in a small nearby room. Must be nice to have a "show off" bedroom you don't have to worry about having to neaten after using. At the castle I also had my first misunderstanding due to the Scottish dialect. When I asked where the tour begins, the woman said up past the archway and to the right by the whale. Huh? What? A whale in the courtyard of a castle, that's weird. After a second, I asked her, "by the whale?" "Yes, by the whale." "Hmmm, okay". "Oh, no, by the will, oh, I said that wrong, by the well." "Oh, the well, I see." Huh, wells in castles make far more sense than whales.

While exploring the outside of the castle, a rainbow began to form in the valley. And then I noticed, almost directly in the middle of the rainbow, was William Wallace's monument. It was pretty amazing, actually. It kind of sent chills down my spine. Here I was, looking at a rainbow immediately overhead of this beautiful Gothic tower memorializing Braveheart. Wow.

During my visit at the castle, I also began to develop a new pet peeve. Everywhere it seemed were people popping out dSLRs, some of them nice, taking pictures in well lit rooms with their flash! They were just putting the thing on auto and it was popping up the flash. Some of them were taking pictures of things 30-50 feet away. The flash was useless at best. I suppose I understand - they want a nice picture with as little effort as possible. And I've certainly been humbled by the manual settings on my camera the past few days, but it all seems rather silly. If you are going to invest hundreds to thousands of dollars in a camera, you should learn to use the thing. At the very least, crank up the ISO a bit and put the camera in automatic aperture mode.

After the castle, I made my way to my B&B in St. Andrews on the eastern coast of Scotland. It's a very charming little town, perhaps most famous for its golf course (its supposedly where golf was invented), and more recently as being the alma mater of Prince William. Upon arriving, I called the host and learned that the key was behind a fold out door. I retrieved it and then opened the front door and went upstairs to purvey my digs for the night and take a leak. Then I went back outside to unload my car. Oh no, I'd left my the key on the dresser in my room. I was locked out again! But then I remembered that there was a second key behind the door, to room 2. I grabbed it to unlock the front door, and viola, I was back inside. So I went back to my room to grab the key and noticed that I had left it (and used the restroom in) room 2, NOT my room. I quickly retrieved my things from room 2 and sought out my proper room. Two crises averted!

I then went to a local restaurant called the Doll House for dinner, where I had a wonderful salmon filet. Seafood really is excellent in Scotland. Upon returning to my B&B, I noticed that they had coupons on the counter for one free drink at the Doll House. Ah well, maybe next time.

My closing thought for today is that the British really do LOVE traffic circles. They pop up all over the place. And I'm beginning to love them, too. They are far more convenient than stop lights. There's lots of evidence that they reduce seriously car accidents among other advantages. If I started a political party, it would be the party for building more roundabouts.

Scotland - Day 2

So sorry for the delay in getting day 2 posted. It's been a whirl wind of sights and traveling and booking the last of my accommodations. Word to the wise: even if your trip is more or less last minute, book stuff before you leave.

After breakfast, I returned to the city to explore the western side of what is called the Royal Mile, which extends slightly uphill for roughly a mile from the royal palace Holyrood, where the royals tended to prefer to spend their time when safe, to the Edinburgh castle. Along the way, I stopped in at St. Giles Cathedral, where famous Scottish preacher John Knox was said to have preached from. (John Knox, interestingly, was a protestant minister who was captured in St. Andrews and forced to row in the galleys of a French ship for several years, after which he was released, studied with the Calvinists, and then returned to Scotland and ultimately Edinburgh). The steeple of St. Giles is quite unique - it is open with only framing supports, looking much like a crown.

Next I proceed to the castle itself, which is quite the popular tourist attraction - I had to wait in line for ~45 minutes. Note to self - next time, don't get distracted, but go immediately to the most popular attraction first to beat the crowds. I spent several hours at the castle, which is quite impressive and has a rich history of wars and sieges. There's even a little chapel on top where you can get married (there was even a ceremony going on during my visit). Supposedly it's very popular among brides' fathers, as it only seats about 20.

After the castle, I made a short trip to the National Museum of Scotland to learn more about the early history of Scotland. I unfortunately got there too late to see everything I wanted to, but between it and some other sources, I've become to develop a much deeper appreciation for Scotland's history, which I will briefly butcher below.

To start off, I'll point out that while I have always appreciated Scotland's desire for freedom, I never truly understood the extent of it. I suppose I just thought they were of English decent, but didn't like the way the English went about things. In reality, at least prior to the last few centuries when the cultures melded further together, Scotland was mostly populated by peoples distinct from the English. The reality is, even the Roman empire couldn't successfully conquer Scotland, instead building Hadrian's Wall at what is roughly the Scottish border to defend from the "savages" to the north. There were several groups of people who lived in different areas of Scotland, including the Norse, the Celts, and the Picts. By the 10th century, Scotland had a Gaelic culture and was more or less united under the Mac Alpin dynasty. As England grew in strength, in continually tried to conquer and rule Scotland, but Scotland eventually one its freedom under Robert the Bruce (of Braveheart fame). Ironically, James VI of Scotland (son of Mary, Queen of Scots) inherited the throne of England and thus, despite England's never-ending efforts to control Scotland, it instead became ruled by a Scottish king. At this point, of course, everyone in the royal families of Europe were so inter-related that the whole concept of nation battling nation turned into a tragic farce of familial in-fighting. In the early 1700s, Scotland and England were officially joined to form Great Britian - Scotland had relented because its leaders and merchants saw England as an opportunity to grow their wealth. Only recently, has concept of a Scottish "devolved" government really gained momentum, most noted by their new parliament. Of a related note, England and Scotland have not always been one landmass, which was quite surprising to me. Perhaps its Scottish propaganda, but they claim that Scotland and England were at one point two separate islands, and when they finally collided, the resulting force is what created the mountains in the north, known to us as the Highlands.

Anyway, with my brief history lesson over, I'll return to the day. Sometime around late afternoon I happened to see a man in a kilt (not uncommon here, of course) who looked as if he were sagging. It's hard to say, but it looked like his kilt was hanging awfully low on his rear end. I never thought I'd see that. There is a certain pride in a Scot wearing a woollen skirt, but what this man was doing was quite ridiculous.

Before dinner, I did a wee bit of shopping ("wee" is a required term here, it seems), including stopping at Caidenhead's, Scotland's oldest independent bottler, for a taste of whisky (not called Scotch, here, of course). And don't put an "e" in it, either. That's what the Irish do, and I imagine it would be met with strict censure here.

For dinner, I stopped at the Beehive Inn in Grassmarket (just below the southern cliff of the castle) for a quick meal prior to the next event of the day. I had a minced lamb pie, which was okay, but far less exciting than dinner the night before. I think the quality of the food was in some way a result of the restaurant in the inn clearly being owned by a corporation. In fact, sadly, it sounds like almost all of the local pubs have had to sellout to larger businesses, in many cases breweries, which has had a negative impact on the atmosphere and likely tastiness of the fare.

After dinner, I enjoyed the Literary Pub Tour, which involves two actors debating the merits and inspirations of some of Scotland's most famous poets and authors, while leading us to several pubs around the city. It was recommended by both of my guide books and turned out to be worth the praise. At a couple of the pubs, I sampled two whiskys that were new to me - Springbank and Laphroaig, the latter of which the barkeep told me was very smoky, which it was and is characteristic of the region it is from. My favorite of the pubs was Ensign Ewart, the cramped interior of which is rich with dark wood, swords, and pistols. It is also the closest pub to the castle.

At the very start of the tour/performance, a woman in the front row started to talk rather loudly to the man next to her. The performer took the occasion to remind everyone that it is in fact a performance, and he requests that people try not to talk during it or ask questions. However, just a couple minutes later, the woman began to ask him a question. I was embarrassed for her, but also though, "oh boy, one those, I hope she doesn't ruin the whole thing." But I was soon to learn that the whole thing was a rouse - she was in fact the other performer. The whole premise of the show is the one actor takes and edgy interpretation of the writers as inspired by the common man and his drunken rabble-rousing, while the other takes a more academic perspective and sees them as geniuses above the filth. Their bickering makes for quite an entertaining way to experience the city.

One point they make during the tour is that recently, a well-known Scottish writer claimed that a people cannot have a unique culture unless they have a unique language. Now many might then claim the Scots cannot have a unique culture because they speak English. However, this writer made the point that Scots don't speak English, but "Scots". It's similar to English, but has many words and phrasings (and intonations) that are quite different. One of the actors then proceeded to read one of this writer's poems in its original Scots and then translated into English. I hardly understood the first version, which he read in a dramatic fashion with a thick Scottish brogue, so I'm more or less convinced of the claim. We'll see how much I can understand once I move to the more remote areas of the Highlands.

Once the tour had ended, I snuck out of the last pub before grabbing a drink and headed home to promptly fall asleep. I hadn't stopped moving, really, since the early morning.

During the day, I also learned that the remnants of a hurricane had moved back across the Atlantic and was headed for Scotland. I couldn't believe it!? I never thought they came over here - wasn't Irene enough for me this year?

The Motherland - Day 1

So, I'm going to try to post my travels through Scotland (aka, the Motherland, because I'm of Scottish heritage) on my blog, which I know has been virtually abandoned recently. It's as much for me as for you, so that I have a record of what I did and where I went, so I don't mind if you find that these posts lack excitement (or make you jealous), and thus you skim or skip them.

Day 1 consisted for me flying out of Philadelphia on a direct flight to Edinburgh. Nope, scratch that - Glasgow. For some reason, I had convinced myself I was flying directly to Edinburgh, only to discover right before leaving for the airport that my destination was in fact Glasgow. Not to worry, as Edinburgh proved to be a mere 20 minute bus ride to the train station in downtown Glasgow and then a 60 minute trip by rail.

I tried to sleep some on the plane, but what I did get wasn't "good" sleep under any stretch of the imagination. Upon my arrival in Scotland, it was chilly, gray, and rainy. So basically exactly what I expected. Once I made my way to Edinburgh, it was mid morning, and I was famished and slightly delirious from lack of sleep. I made my way to the tourist center (or should I spell it "centre"?) and learned how to navigate the bus system, which is as elaborate as it is confusing. Philly's bus system must in some way be modeled after Edinburgh, except in Philly you can't even get a single map that shows where all the lines go. In any case, upon getting where I was going sorted out, I made my way to a local shopping center to buy a converter for my power cables (which I'd somehow completely forgotten about during the 2 hour wait to my plane) and then had a crepe stuffed with cheese, ham, and mushrooms. Then I successfully caught a bus to my bed and breakfast and promptly took a 2 hour nap.

After 2 hours, I forced myself to get up, both because I didn't want to waste the day, and I wanted to try to adjust to the timezone as quickly as possible. I took the bus back to downtown Edinburgh and wandered around looking for the famous "Royal Mile" that leads up to the Edinburgh Castle, which sits atop the plug of an ancient volcano. I was far to mentally drained to take on lots of museums and such, so I headed downhill, away from the castle.

After window shopping a bit, I made my way to the new Scottish Parliament building. If you are not familiar with recent British, and more specifically Scottish history, not too long ago Scotland held a referendum which passed to create their own legislative branch. And when I say not too long ago, I am talking 1997, so this is new, exciting stuff. Scotland is still part of the United Kingdom, and the British Parliament still makes the most important decisions, especially regarding international issues, but it's still quite a big step for this little nation-state.

Speaking of which, I was surprised to learn that Scotland makes up approximately 1/3 of the land of the British Isle, but less than 10% of the population, at ~5 million people. While England is very densely populated, Scotland it closer to the density of the US (although still denser).

Back to the Scottish Parliament building: It's a very modern looking building, although it much of its construction is supposed to harken back to the land. It's interesting to say the least, with a very modern debate hall, which makes me wonder if, in 100 years, it will look more dated than historic. If you look at the whole complex from above, it is supposed to look like a plant, which it sort of does, so I'll give them that.

After my educational experience for the day, I decided to make the hike up to Arthur's Seat. It is atop a hilly network that's undeveloped and practically right in the middle of the city. You get fantastic views of the city and surrounding countryside, as it's probably the tallest thing in quite some distance. It was a much tougher hike than I initially expected, and after wandering around and taking many pictures for a few hours, it was time to find some dinner and then pass out.

Along the way back, I ran into an American couple who made for some interesting, if somewhat eccentric conversation. Highlights included me challenging the thesis of Jared Diamond in Guns, Germs, and Steel (which was met with silence - I'm not sure if I was shaking their religion or they didn't understand my point) and the husband telling me how he was hoping we would someday advance the human knowledge and collaboration to a point where space travel would allow our species to continue and thrive. I think the latter is an interesting point, but he said it in such an excited, Star Trekie sort of way, that it made me chuckle to myself.

For dinner, I opted for a pub called The World's End. Unbeknownst to me at the time, the pub's name is a pretty cool reference to Edinburgh history. Part of the back wall of the pub is actually part of one of the original outer walls that surrounded Edinburgh. Because many people in Edinburgh rarely left the city, it was effectively their "world", thus the wall itself marked the end of it. At my waitresses insistence, I opted for the fish and chips. I'm usually not a huge fish eater, and I'm not sure if I've ever had fish and chips, but my neighbors at the next table also vouched for the meal, so I went for it. And it was delicious. Now granted I was very hungry after several hours of hiking, and half out of my mind with exhaustion, but I think in a better state, I still would have thought it quite good. I later also found out that this pub has a reputation for having some of the best fish and chips in Edinburgh. In fact, Scotland is known for having excellent seafood, which I hadn't really thought about since I don't eat it often, but completely makes since given that it's an island surrounded by waters known to be teaming with fish. I may have to try a couple more dishes from the sea before I head home.

Thus ended day 1. I fell asleep quickly, and only awoke a few times to turn over. I ended up in an absolutely tiny room with bunk beds, which is worth mentioning because I slept in the bottom bunk, and on awakening to turn over bumped my head on the top bunk each time. I had no idea I sit almost upright to turn over when sleeping, but now I most unmistakably am aware.