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.

The Arrogance of Consulting

As I near my sixth year in the management consulting industry, I confess that I have very mixed feelings towards this industry. My experience has led me to believe that, on the whole, my company does in fact add value to their clients. But I'm not so convinced that the consulting industry in its entirety is really adding as much value as their high fees and prestigious reputation would seem to indicate. (I'm not, by the way, the first to say this - there are several recently published books on Amazon.com focused on this very issue, none of which I have read).

At the core of the industry, I see one of the key problems to be that you have very smart people talking in very convincing and articulate ways about things they barely understand. They certainly understand these things far less than the managers for whom they are consulting who have often been in that one industry for 20+ years. I think the Enron fiasco is a perfect example of how little consultants often know about what they are saying. In that example, the consulting firm McKinsey, the best of the best (with fees to prove it), was intimately involved in all aspects of the business model at Enron. And the whole thing was a massive disaster built on a house of cards (with fraud and illegal market manipulation to boot; remember those brown outs in CA?). The theories behind the model had no bearing on reality, and the trendy managing techniques being employed turned out to be contrary to common sense (see Malcolm Gladwell's excellent article titled the Talent Myth).

I've been meaning to blog about one encounter I had with a very senior partner at my firm several years ago, which I think is fairly representative of the "confidently talking about things you don't understand" phenomenon. I was in the kitchen one afternoon looking for a source of caffeine. Rather than coffee, I chose to go for a soda. Naturally, I went for the highest caffeine-content option, Mountain Dew. As I was purchasing my caffeine-loaded soda, in walked the partner and the following occurred (admittedly, it's a paraphrase of a conversation that occurred several years ago):

Partner: "Hey Paul. Getting a little sugar for the afternoon?"
Me: "Well, I really need some caffeine, but I don't feel like coffee, so I thought I'd get Mountain Dew."
Partner [taking on a somewhat authoritatively demeaning tone of voice - my perception of course]: "Well, soda doesn't really have much caffeine in it."
Me: "Actually, Mountain Dew has fairly high caffeine content, especially compared to other sodas."
Partner: "No, that's not right. Soda doesn't have a lot of caffeine in it; Mountain Dew is no different. You should get coffee if caffeine is what you want."
[At this point, I opted not to say anything further. I knew that he was wrong, but it didn't seem in my best interest to argue with him.]

Note of fact: I know I'm right. That's not arrogant - I've just informed myself on this point. See this website for a full breakdown of caffeine content by a variety of types of beverages. Here are the basics: A 12 oz. can of Mountain Dew contains 54 mg of caffeine. A Diet Pepsi contains 36 mg and a Coke Zero 35 mg. That means MD contains about 50% more caffeine than other common sodas. According the website above (values vary somewhat depending on the source), a generic cup of drip coffee contains 133 mg of coffee and a generic instant coffee contains 93 mg, so MD has roughly half the caffeine content as a cup of coffee, which is, I would argue, a significant amount of caffeine. To further this argument, a generic espresso shot has on average 40 mg of coffee, so your single-shot latte may very well have less caffeine than my can of MD (it's a common misconception that an espresso has as much caffeine as a cup of coffee - per volume, espresso does have more caffeine, but for a serving of one ounce/shot, it actually has less, so if you want the same eye-opening effect as a cup of coffee, opt for the double shot).

I think it's fairly obvious that I was highly annoyed by this discussion because the partner was factually wrong but was so confident and authoritative in the way he said it. (This makes for incredibly awkward situations in client meetings when you have to correct a partner for something they said when their oral presentation makes it seems as if what they said is as factual as noting that the sun will rise tomorrow.) Now I'd like to make one thing very clear at this point - this partner is incredibly successful and smart. He is almost certainly more intelligent than I am and is undoubtedly more motivated (I have it on good account that he graduated number one in his class from a very prestigious business school) and from what I can tell is a very good consultant. But that doesn't mean he was right. What it does mean is people, unless they have very good information, are very likely going to listen to and believe him, even when he is wrong.

Luckily (or by design), we are a niche consultancy, with incredibly deep experience and expertise in our chosen industries and areas of focus, so it is much less likely we would find ourselves in a situation in which we are significantly less knowledgeable than the client (they may know more about their particular company or issue, but we likely in aggregate have more knowledge of the industry by a factor of 10). But when you start talking about general strategy consulting firms, they often have less specific expertise. If there are more consultants out there like the partner I encountered in the general consulting space, and I believe many if not most of the highly successful consultants have similar personalities, I imagine they are often running into situations which they know little about. Yet they are still offering authoritative advice that could have a significant negative rather than valuing-adding impact on the company.

I don't mean to go into detail on the solution, but I think this concept generally calls for a more open-minded and collaborative approach to consulting in which we openly admit when we don't know things. (I think it also more widely calls into question the need for so many general strategy consulting firms). The problem is the most successful consultants need to appear to understand it all in order to get in front of the C-level members of a company, coupled with the fact that the attitude at many of the more prestigious consultancies is that of "we know best: listen to us" rather than a more collaborative mentality.

For me at least, the lesson is to not be as confident and authoritative when speaking about topics, even those I think I understand fairly well. One of the simplest ways to handle this is phrasing. For example, instead of saying, "soda doesn't have a lot of caffeine in it", say something like "correct me if I'm wrong, but to my knowledge soda doesn't have a lot of caffeine" or "I'm under the impression that all sodas have a relatively low caffeine content, but let me know if you have evidence to the contrary." Of course, if you caveat every statement with this sort disclaimer, your presentation could become unnecessarily cumbersome, so you need to use such phrasing with discretion. And don't forget to use a tone of voice that portrays not only authority, but a willingness to listen and change you POV. Easier said than done.

A toast

Below is the toast I had the privilege of giving as best man to Eric at his and Bonnie's wedding on 10/10/10. Not the best thing I've ever written, and I think it benefits from being read aloud, but nonetheless, it comes from the heart:

I'd like start off by saying that I am truly honored to be Eric’s best man, and I am so happy for the two of you.

I became good friends with Eric at Amherst, and our friendship really grew when I also fell for his first love. The bicycle. Luckily, there is more than one bicycle, so it didn’t become a contentious love triangle.

Although we now live miles apart, we maintain a strong friendship. We’ve both shared personal struggles over the years; including those involving the fairer sex. I will never forget Eric standing by me a couple years back when I was having a difficult time, even though I was acting like a total jerk. What started as a miserable vacation turned into a wonderful surprise as we both visited Acadia for the first time and fell in love... with the park. As most of you know, that park a year later would be the site for Eric’s proposal to Bonnie. But Bonnie, even though you stole his heart, I will always be the first person to have shared a small two-man tent with him for a week in Acadia.

But Bonnie, you are a lucky young woman. Eric is an amazing guy. And particularly well-suited as a husband. Consider this – his love of chick flicks means you will always be able to agree on a movie. And while Eric is the one who convinced me to start shaving my legs (only in the Summer), you are the one who will always be able to share razors with him.

But you will have some important duties now that you are his wife. For instance, now you will have to be the one who picks him up when he gets 2 flat tires miles from home in the cold pouring rain. I can give you this advice – after an experience like that, a hot shower and a beer (in the shower) go a long way.

And there may be days when you will wonder who the woman in the relationship is. After all, Eric does have a particularly strong affinity for pink and does wear an earring. But you’ll never have to wonder who the prettier one is. And Eric, while you are a good looking guy, I’m talking about Bonnie here.

But I really think the luckier person here is Eric. You are marrying an amazing young lady. She is beautiful, kind, intelligent, and most importantly, puts up with your idiosyncrasies, including writing ridiculous haikus (did you notice his biography of me on the wedding site is a haiku?). But most importantly, you put up with him hanging out with me.

And Bonnie, this guy really, really loves you. I knew, as soon as you started dating, he was yours if you would have him.

And Eric, as your best man, I feel some duty to challenge you. As some of you may know, I am a Christian, and I take my faith seriously. I don’t want to be preachy, so I’ll keep it simple. In the Bible, marriage is given as the example for Christ’s relationship to the church. And in that relationship, Christ dies for the church. I know this is a high calling, and I’m not even sure how to live up to this, but my challenge to you, Eric, is to be that type of husband. A life-giving husband.

So in conclusion, I can’t say enough how happy and excited I am for you two. And Bonnie, even though you are now married, I hope you don’t mind me being a third wheel on your trips to Acadia. But don’t worry - you’ll now get the spot right next to Eric. And if you ever need to get him out of your hair, just give me a call and I’ll snuggle up with him in a tent on a cold Winter’s weekend in New Hampshire.

I look forward to watching you grow old together. So let’s lift our glasses to Eric and Bonnie, and a lifetime of joy and love.

Ice Cream

The primary reason I do not buy ice cream is that if I did, I would eat it.

But a very sweet little thing bought me some because I wasn't feeling well.

So now I'm eating ice cream.

The pretension of texting

Yes, over the past couple of years I have fallen into the trap of texting. It has been exacerbated by the befriending of a couple people who like to have long and drawn out "conversations" via text. I thought I'd share one of the more amusing dialogues I had with one of these repeat texters a couple days ago. (Background: SD likes to hassle me for being somewhat preppy and not being completely anti-popped collar. He was trying to argue with me because I was hassling him for refusing to leave voicemails).

ME: This is the best argument you have? "Ur ridic"? Wow, disappointing. I affirm u SD, so u can leave me voicemail. U don't have to beg me to want to listen.

SD: You're ridic cause you're making some bogus argument about voicemail! You know how to get under my skin, alright!

ME: So when r we going to hang out?

SD: When you stop popping collars and talking about pink cashmere ;)

ME: No, no, u have it all wrong. I like popping my BLACK cashmere overcoat. Sheesh. But not many other collars. And I don't own pink cashmere.

SD: But it was mentioned ;)

ME: Never by me. This is a vicious and slanderous lie.

SD: Yes. Once. The only cashmere convo we had. It was in regard to a sweater

...several minutes pass...

SD: I win!!

ME: You win? Your argument was specious and then I [I meant "u"] resorted to pure fabrication. If u think clutching at straws is winning, I misoverstimated u.

SD: That was the most pretentious text I've ever received!

I laughed for the next 5 minutes straight. But don't worry, all is well. The next day he sent me a text that read "I heart you HP!"

Thoughts on marriage

My Mom sent me this thought-provoking list of things to consider before marriage. I found this interesting enough to be worth posting:

PLEASE DO NOT MARRY IF:
1. You are unwilling to put the needs of another person above your own.
2. You are easily offended, carry grudges and are unwilling to forgive.
3. You are an abusive person (Mentally, emotionally and physically).
4. You are unwilling to commit.
5. You have an unresolved addiction problem.
6. Your career is the most important thing in your life.
7. You do not share the same beliefs, values, life priorities or vision.
8. You are unwilling to be an active partner sexually with your spouse.
9. You are unwilling to agree on an approach for handling finances,
children and life decisions.
10. You expect your spouse to change after you get married.

This all makes sense to me. Some parts of it sound harder than others, but we each have our own unique flaws and struggles, so the items we find most challenging are likely to be different from others, even our partner. Thoughts?

The dilemma

It was recently requested that I update my blog, so I've decided to write about a very serious and pressing dilemma for which I have no good answer. That dilemma is seasonally themed underwear. Mostly, Christmas and Winter themed boxers.

Is it appropriate to wear these boxers in other seasons? Is that a serious fashion mistake? Am I somehow jinxing myself? I must admit, I do feel a bit odd wearing my boxers printed with pictures of a dog with an antler headpiece or skiers in 90 degree weather. But what is my alternative - to only wear these boxers during the Winter months? They would sit around for 2/3s of the year, taking up space and according undue wear to my other, less seasonally specific underwear. The utilitarian in me says to just wear them, and so I do. But every time I put them on, I feel a bit discomforted. The dogs with their antlers almost look back at me in embarrassment, as if they are saying "really dude, you are going to put antlers on my head in this heat?"

Dishwasher serenity

At my Oma & Opa's house, the kitchen is right next to, and open to the family room. Often, my Oma would load the dishwasher and then set it to run right before going to bed. This would often drive me a little crazy because I would on occasionally stay up after they went to bed. I would try to watch TV in the family room, with the volume turned down given the late hour, which made it rather challenging to hear the TV over the rather loud dishwasher. And yet, the noise of the dishwasher often also had a calming affect on me.

When I moved into my apartment in Philly last Summer, I was very excited to have a dishwasher for the first time in 5 years. I must say, I've been less than pleased with its paltry cleaning ability. I have to scrub my dishes pretty clean before running them through the dishwasher, which really just serves as a glorified sanitizer. And the thing is fairly noisy, too. But nevertheless, I find myself typically running it right before I go to bed, and I frequently leave my bedroom door open so that I can hear it run. There's something about the sound of it running as I try to drift into sleep that is strangely soothing. It makes me miss my grandparents, but it also makes my apartment feel a little more like home. Whatever that is.

Trunks and such

Tonight I found my car yet again with a dead battery. This has become a common trend in Philly, and usually I end up calling AAA, but this time I had some friends around, so I asked one of them to help me out. But first I had to get the jumper cables out of my trunk. The problem was, I couldn't open up my trunk because there is no physical knob, only a button that is run by an electrical signal, which obviously doesn't work when your battery is dead. So I reverted back to some knowledge I had gained in high school.

See, one random night during my junior year of high school I was hanging out with my girlfriend, and I devised the brilliant plan to see if we could both fit into my trunk at the same time - with it closed, naturally. First, I tested it myself. What I figured out in this experiment is that there is usually some small panel or hole on the inside of the door of the trunk with a lever or wire inside of it that, upon being pulled, releases the latch. So essentially, there is a way to escape on your own from inside a closed car trunk. With this vital knowledge acquired, my girlfriend and I, somewhat confident we could get out (or at least I was confident), attempted to complete our mission. First I got in, and then she crawled in after me. We assumed a semi spoon-like position, with her as the little spoon. Keep in mind, this was the trunk of a 2-door coupe, so there wasn't a lot of room, but somehow we managed to squeeze in and shut the door! I was pretty excited it actually worked, and there is no horror story about us getting stuck in the trunk. I found my hole in the paneling and released the trunk latch. Easy as pie.

This pointless knowledge I had gained proved itself surprisingly useful today during my dilemma. I simply crawled over the seats into the trunk of my hatchback, located a suspicious looking snap-in panel, removed it, and found a small lever. Sure enough, the trunk popped open. Before I knew it, I had my jumper cables out and was ready to start my car. And now all is well because I challenged my high school girlfriend to squish into a trunk with me. Ain't life grand!

I think I'm going to coin the phrase "trunk-spoon." I have no idea when I would actually use it though. Ideas?

Dharma and Greg

I always liked the show Dharma and Greg, but I think originally because they were such an odd couple. I used to want to find a partner who was, when I think about it, just like me. I thought Dharma and Greg's incredibly different backgrounds and interests made for an amusing storyline, but nothing more. But over the past couple of years or so, their relationship, or what it signifies has become more interesting to me. I suppose in many ways I saw, and still see, myself as a Greg. But over time, I've come to realize I don't want to spend all of my time with another Greg, in girls clothes - I'd rather be around someone different from me, someone who can amaze and surprise me with their different perspective and personality and interests. Not that I would want to settle down with someone completely different from me, but the idea of being with someone who is more "artsy" and less serious than me is very appealing. Maybe it's because, as a young adult, I've started to discover an "artsy" and alternative side of myself, and I'd like someone who can relate to that, and even tease it out of me a little. And I guess even broader than that, I've just become more open to possibilities, and not trying to design someone in my head. That would not be at all surprising.

(I wonder if I'll have the same perspective in 3 years? Maybe I'll want another Gregette again?)

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Now playing: James Taylor - How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You)
via FoxyTunes

Am I a contradiction?

At times my life does not seem to make any sense. I have very little ambition or drive, and yet I find myself working past midnight in an intensive career full of over-achievers. All I really want to do is lay out on a blanket and listen to music. I could do that all day and all night. It would be like one of those scenes from The Discovery Channel where a fixed camera captures the sun move across the sky and set, then the stars sailing across the sky, only to reveal the sun all over again. A girl lying next to me and a bottle of sparkling wine would make it perfect.

Seriously, where is my blanket...

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Listening to The Weepies - All Good Things

Crash songs

If you've ever been in a really serious car accident, you know that it is a truly unforgettable experience. It happens so fast, you feel so helpless, and yet at the same time everything moves incredibly slowly. In the crash I experienced, we literally rolled sideways down the side of a mountain a few times. It was terrifying in a way I cannot express. All I can remember thinking is "if we don't stop soon, we will die." And yet realizing to the core of my being that I had absolutely zero control over if and when we would stop.

We did eventually stop, and all 4 of us escaped relatively unscathed given how bad it could have been. I might have even done some good, but I usually don't like to talk about it.

For some reason, the whole experience has made me fascinated with songs about accidents, so I've listed my favorite 3 crash songs below, in no particular order.

Come Crash, by A.C. Newman

So Damn Lucky, by Dave Matthews

The Scientist, by Coldplay

The last is not explicitly about a car crash, but the music video almost brought me to tears the first time I saw it. It involves an accident, and there are many similarities to the accident I was in. I just watched it again, and it still sends chills down my spine.

Please, please always wear your seat belt. It's quite likely I can type this blog only because I was.

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Now playing: A.C. Newman - Come Crash
via FoxyTunes

The return of insomnia

I haven't had insomnia for a while, so I guess it was due. I'm very tired, and tried to go to bed very early tonight, but only tossed and turned for half an hour. I've given up and instead decided to learn my first Greg Laswell song. I'm excited! Today on my walk home from work, I picked all the back streets with the most empty sidewalks so that I could sing out loud with my iPod to learn all the nuances of singing it.

For your future listening pleasure (I hope) - Comes and Goes (in Waves).

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Now playing: Greg Laswell - Comes And Goes (In Waves)
via FoxyTunes

You might be a bachelor if...

...your contribution to a potluck is bringing plastic cups, and at said potluck, a girl calls you out for having mismatched sheets hanging from your bedroom windows instead of curtains, and the girl noticed this when she was with a group of people in your apartment when you weren't there. Actually, that last part has nothing to do with being a bachelor - it's just strange.

The downfall of ringtones

I've discovered that making your own ringtones from songs you love isn't as great an idea as it sounds. The reason - when my phone rings and a song comes on I love, I don't want to pick. I just want to hear the ring finish. So often I make the person on the other end wait for a while because I want to hear the verse or chorus I love resolve. Sorry.

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Now playing: Greg Laswell- Not out
via FoxyTunes