Well folks, considering I posted the first part of this entry a good two weeks ago, I apparently did not make good with my promise to post the second part "soon". I would say it's because I've been super busy, but anyone who interacts with me in my day-to-day life would immediately know that's a lie. Sorry. Here's part deux.
I believe when I last left off in my story, it was a beautiful Sunday morning and I was sitting in a park by my hostel in Edinburgh attempting to choke back vomit after a night of extreme drinking. We'll just skip over the rest of that day... Which brings us to Monday April 2nd. That was the fateful day when I boarded a big yellow bus with 40 other people to tour the Scottish countryside for three days. Huzzah!
It actually was super awesome, and definitely the highlight of the trip. The first day we meandered our way from Edinburgh in the south of Scotland up to Fort Augustus on the shores of Loch Ness, where we stayed for both nights of the tour.
Stirling Bridge, with the Wallace monument being that tiny looking tower to the right of the bridge tower. The monument is actually over 300 ft. tall.
The first stop, not too far outside of Edinburgh was Stirling Bridge. "Hm. Stirling." You might be thinking to yourself. Then this might flash into your head:
You're on the right track... how about one more try?
Yep, that's better. So if you've heard of Stirling anywhere, it was probably in Mel Gibson's epic film of Scottish heroism, Braveheart. Which as I mentioned last post is completely inaccurate.
The thing about the Battle of Stirling was that it was actually called the Battle of Stirling Bridge. What happened to the bridge in the film, you ask? Well Gibson deemed the bridge too difficult to work into the film, which is a shame because it literally was the reason why the Scots won the battle against the English. Because of the extremely muddy river shores and the English's tendency to attack on cavalry in full armor, the only real option for them to attack the Scots waiting on the other side of the river was one single-file wooden bridge. Of course that wasn't a great idea either, as after they clip-clomped over the bridge the Scottish had a pretty easy time of just slaughtering the English slowly. The ones who tried to ford the river instead of waiting for the bridge got so bogged down in the mud that they were easily killed as well. Thus, the bridge of Stirling was the reason why the Scots defeated the English and Mel Gibson got it all wrong.
We stopped to meet a Highland cow. Our tour guides referred to them as "hairy kuhs", which is funny because the German word for cow is actually Kuh. This one's name is Hamish.
Bus view
50 square kilometers of nothing.
Nothingness + a big yellow Haggis Adventures bus.
After taking in the stark and beautiful scenery we stopped for lunch and I had my first experience with haggis! In case you don't know what haggis is, I'll let you read up on your own HERE, and I will spare everyone else with the gory details. I didn't have it the traditional way, which is with mashed potatoes and vegetables, but instead had it served on top of a venison burger. I thought it was pretty tasty actually and I washed it all down with a local brew from Oban Bay.
We next made our way deeper into the Highlands and heard some of the legends and histories of the clans people. One of the best known is that of the Massacre of Glencoe. There is a long and complicated history behind the story, but basically the MacDonald Clan did not accept the new monarch of England to be their ruler. In keeping with the tradition of hospitality, various families throughout the Glen offered shelter and food to a certain Captain Campbell and his men while they were visiting the area. Campbell and his troops then proceeded to carry out a camisado, slaughtering most of the clan in their sleep. Those who managed to escape were forced to hide on the mountain in the bitter winter cold and snow while their homes burned below. Most of them died as well. It was a somber place.
Glencoe
Continuing with the stories of Scottish suffering, we next came to the Commando Memorial. The area around Ben Nevis was were the British Commando Forces trained before and during WWII. The training was so intense and the conditions so harsh that it is said more than just a couple men actually died during training.
View from the Commando Memorial... which I actually forgot to take a picture of.
So, what was the next thing we did after being thoroughly bummed out? Went to a whisky distillery! There we got a short tour of the whisky making process and got a wee (and I do mean "weeeee") dram to taste.
Whisky still
Like I said... wee. Barely enough to get your tongue wet and I was reprimanded for drinking it too fast. That sample was meant to last 20 minutes. I think not, sir.
After the semi-disappointing distillery tour we got back on the bus and headed for Loch Ness and the town of Fort Augustus, where we would spend the night. First we went to a little museum called The Clansman Center where we learned all about how the clans lived way back when. Apparently Mel Gibson (see above) had been there a couple times, as well as Madonna and Guy Ritchie. OOoo fancy!
The first demonstration by Bill (I think that was his name) was how a traditional kilt from the ye olde 1500s would have been worn. It was a long process; first the 7 meters (23 ft) of material had to be laid on the floor and pleated.
He of course executed them perfectly, and after tying the Canadian model up in the feet and feet of fabric, lifted up the back of the kilt to reveal his masterpiece!
The completed strapping Highland man.
Now time for the lady's... not as much fabric in this one.
Annnnnd the whole thing together now! Highland dude, chick (in ridiculous wig) and some massive (authentic) weapons.
After a very long and interesting day we made it to the hostel for dinner and some drinking games before hitting the hay. Little did I know what horrors would await me the following morning... SNOW. Quite a lot of it actually and while all the Australians were exciting and having a great time I was quietly brooding and cursing having had to endure so many long winters in my life. The tour guides were in the unhindered spirit camp though, so outward we headed.
Like I said... it was pretty blizzardy.
Okay okay, it appears to have stopped snowing and the mountains look pretty... I can deal with this.
The Five Sisters mountain range
Eilean Donan Castle
After a two hour bus ride through the beautiful (and less and less snowy) Scottish countryside, we finally made it to our big destination: The Isle of Skye. The bus was parked just before the bridge going into Skye so we could take in the epic views with a windy walk over from the mainland.
Looking from the bridge at the Scottish mainland.
The Isle of Skye
The bridge we walked over.
Mainland with beautiful yellow Gorse bushes everywhere.
Saucy Mary's castle... In the 900s she put a chain across the channel so boats would have to pay a toll to go to the open sea. As a gesture of gratitude she would apparently flash her boobs from the top of her castle, which I guess is a good way to get the nickname "Saucy Mary".
Town of Kyleakin
Hairy kuh babies!
Tour guide Scot
According to legend, if you stick your face in this river it will make you more beautiful.
Post-dunk... How ammi lookin?
Lunch stop at the village of Portree.
The lone standing rock on the right is The Old Man of Storr.
Everyone competing in the game "Get-water-in-your-mouth-from-the-top-and-run-down-without-spilling-swallowing-or-dying"... the hill was super muddy and rocky, thus the game was hilarious.
Dat der sure is a purtty coastline.
After touring the coast of Skye for a while it was time to ride the two hours back to the hostel. Luckily our tour guide was an accomplished accordion player and we had a bit of a sing-a-long driving through the beautiful scenery.
Stop off to see the aforementioned Eilean Donan Castle.
Eilean Donan
That night back at the hostel we enjoyed another haggis meal followed by drinking and a pub quiz. It was really fun, but definitely not up to par with the seriousness factor I've come to expect from my favorite quizzes.
The next morning (the last of the tour) we left early again and drove from the southern point of Loch Ness (Fort Augustus) to the northern point (Inverness) and stopped along the way to try to get better acquainted with Nessie.
Where Nessie docks her speed boat, obviously.
We then used a time tested Haggis Adventures Nessie call to summon our monster friend to the bank.
THERE SHE IS (which is obviously why I look like I just pooped my pants).
After the lake we went to a place outside Inverness where large stone structures have been standing for hundreds of years and no one knows why. There was also a snowball fight there... I did not partake.
The most sobering part of the trip was the stop at Culloden Battlefield. Here we heard all about the bloody battle (the last to be fought on British soil), which effectively lost the Scots their independence. The carnage lasted only 45 minutes and thousands of clansmen (and women and children in the immediate area) were slaughtered.
Driving back to Edinburgh, we made a quick coffee stop in an adorable little town that I forgot the name of. The pictures below really emphasize how varied the scenery and weather of the tiny country of Scotland are! Culloden was totally snow covered, freezing and surrounded by mountains and not two hours south this town was completely green, mild and set among gently rolling hills.
We arrived back in Edinburgh around 5pm and a few people I had met on the tour and I went to get dinner. The next day we hung out as well, going on a free walking tour (which I posted the pictures of last time) and seeing some of the city.
Overall I would rate Scotland 9/10, with the only point being lost because it's so freaking expensive. Even so, I would definitely go back as I have a new found love and appreciation for Scotland, its history and people. The Scottish pride and love of tradition could really be felt everywhere I went, which was a wonderful surprise coming from America (which it is practically illegal to be proud of). On that note, I leave you with a little clip of Michael McIntyre talking about the birth of that beloved Scottish tradition; the kilt. I think it nicely sums up the attitude of "The Scot".
Whelp here I am, writing my second blog entry in a week! That would be much more impressive if I had actually been busy (or at least been doing something that required showering) instead of laying in my pajamas watching hours upon hours of youtube videos for the past three and a half days. (Side Note: I wrote most of this a week ago before I went out of town for a few days. It's not so impressive anymore that I wrote two blog entries in a week because I didn't post it until almost a week later. Oops.) I also watched Braveheart, which is because I just got back from Scotland! Unfortunately, when you watch the movie after having learned the history straight from the Scottish horse's mouth, you learn it is incredibly inaccurate, and I being the history buff and general accuracy stickler that I am, I find it pretty unacceptable. I still enjoy the cinematic quality of the film, even though a little voice in my head will still be screaming "He couldn't have slept with the Princess of Wales because she was only 10 at the time and didn't even come to England until after Wallace was DEAD!! Goddamnit Mel Gibson!" But that is neither here nor there.
So where was I?... Oh right, Scotland. On the 30th of March I took a train to Bremen to fly to Edinburgh at 9am. Having not slept that much and gotten up early I was expecting a nice day of napping before going out and finding a pub. Unfortunately (or fortunately) for me, it was an exceptionally beautiful day, so after checking into my hostel and showering I took in the sights. Before I continue onto the pictures here, I must interject to say that I did the New Europe free walking tour two times while I was in Edinburgh (obviously I recommend it), and also did a three day guided tour of the Highlands... so I've got a LOT of info crammed in my brain about Scotland and its history right now... and I'll probably be vomiting it all out here for you lovely people. Continuing:
The first thing I decided to do was ask the dreadlocked, pierced non-Scottish woman at the hostel's reception what she would recommend to do on such a gloriously non-British day. She suggested Arthur's Seat, which is a big cliffy hill (I hesitate to use the word mountain) situated near the old town. She gave me a map and told me to go to the Royal Mile and walk down to the end, take a right and simply "walk the footpath" up. So off I went.
Upon leaving my hostel and making it to Princes Street, I turned right again to try to cut through a park, which I later learned was the Princes Street Gardens. The Gardens used to be a lake called the Nor Loch, which was where the chamber pot matter from the old town above would run when it rained. In other words, the Nor Loch was literally a big lake of shit. They eventually cleaned it out though (would've hated that job) and make it into a beautiful park! After hearing that story, I couldn't help but think of poo every time I went through the Gardens.
Edinburgh Castle on the hill, as seen from the former festering pool of bodily matter... part of which is now a graveyard, also containing bodily matter I suppose.
Can you see the sloping side of the lake? I just can't get over it.
My first view of the Royal Mile.
One of the many "closes" aka alleyways along the Royal Mile.
Scottish Parliament Building. Yes, this is an unusual looking building, and yes, I tried to look up on Wikipedia if there was some sort of symbolic meaning behind the weird wood bits and gun looking things. All I could find was that the Spanish architect liked abstract things and tried to incorporate "Scottish landscape, culture and heritage" into the design. Right.
This is the part of the story where I take a right turn past the Parliament building and see my goal ahead of me: Arthur's Seat! Now before you get too excited, know that I found out the name doesn't come from King Arthur, and in fact is probably just a bastardization of the old name "Archer's Seat" which doesn't make much more sense, but whatever. If I learned one thing about Scottish place naming, its that it is always very literal (Nor Loch for example means "North Lake"... because it was to the north of the town). This was probably where archers sat to shoot their arrows for some reason or another. On a side note, the "footpath" that the hostel women told me about turned out to be the path just above the flowers/below the shadow on the hill. It was much less of a "footpath" and much more of what I would call a "sheer rock face"... at least, that's what it seemed when I was trudging up extremely sleep deprived in a dress and flimsy boots.
The "top" or at least the top of the path I was walking.
Edinburgh Castle rising above the city.
Port of Leith in the background
After relaxing/reading/trying to nap at the top of the hill for a while I started to get cold and a bit too wind-swept for my liking and decided to head back to the Royal Mile. Being the ever thrifty Fulbrighter I am, I always like to find free things to do when I travel, and as I was walking back toward my hostel I stumbled upon someplace called the "Childhood Museum" which sounded like a great anthropological discovery if I did say so myself. And it was free! So I went in. It turned out to be the sort of thing my nightmares are comprised of.
Please come play with us... we only want to eat your soul.
A doll made from an old shoe. I still can't wrap my head around why.
I command you to playyy with me.
Every kid's favorite: real-life butcher shop, complete with animal teets.
After being scarred for life I walked up the Royal Mile to the castle. It's the city's most popular attraction and inside are a couple exhibition areas, the Scottish crown jewels and of course the STONE OF DESTINY!! (ooo, ahhhh!) You can learn more about the Stone of Destiny by reading the Wikipedia article about it HERE. Or if you're especially lazy you can watch the movie of the same name that came out a few years ago. Either way it's a pretty big deal in Scotland and is reputed to be the reason why Tony Blair won the election in 1997.
Castle Entrance
Annnnd this was pretty much as far as I could go in without paying the 14pound (aka 17euro/$22usd) entrance fee. I think not.
Another view of the beautiful gardens that used to be filled with shit.
On a side note relating to the former Nor Loch, or "Poo Pond" as it shall henceforth be called, there was apparently a lot of witch hunting going on back in medieval Edinburgh and when someone was accused of being a witch they had a spike skewered through their knees and their hands nailed to their legs before being thrown from the castle down the (very rocky) hillside into the Poo Pond. If the person sank to the bottom, they were cleared of their crimes of "witchcraft" (which to be accused of you pretty much just had to be ginger), but if they floated to the top, they were assumed to have been helped by satan, confirmed a witch and burned at the stake. You lose some... you lose some, I suppose.
That night I met some other lone travelers staying at my hostel and had a nice time at the hostel pub buying rounds, having rounds bought, playing pool, playing wii and basically having a good time.
The next morning a couple of us though it might be a good idea to check out one of the free walking tours available in the city. We learned lots and got a great insight into the city. In fact, so great was my experience than I did the same tour again 5 days later with different people I met! But hey, it was free.
Edinburgh Castle looking up from the south side. As I was made aware many times, the landscape of the city (aka the big rock in the middle) was formed by Ice Age glaciers (pronounced glay-see-urs).
See that 3rd story window above the "NIT"?... that's the back of the Elephant House Cafe, where a certain Ms. Rowling would sit and write her books about a certain wizard, who would later become the basis for a multi-billion dollar enterprise.
At Greyfriar's Cemetery: Because of the huge amounts of body snatching taking place for fresh corpses to sell to the medical university, wealthy people would pay to have themselves buried under these steel cages so no one could take their body. People who didn't have money would have to hope that a relative would sit over their grave every night for a few weeks (until the body wasn't fresh anymore) to fight off any thieves. That's probably where the term "graveyard shift" came from.
The tomb of the infamous "Bloody" George Mackenzie. Reported to be one of the most "haunted" places in Edinburgh. People who go up the steps or touch the building sometimes claim to get strange scratches and bruises, but I stuck my face right up in that window on the door and nothing happened.
Area of the graveyard that used to be the Covenanter's Prison. You can read more about it HERE, but basically they were people who were against the King interfering with how they practiced their religion. They were persecuted brutally and often executed, by none other than "Bloody" George Mackenzie.
George Hariot's School next to Grayfriars, which was the inspiration for Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It also is one of Scotland's most prestigious private schools and costs almost 10,000 pounds ($15, 800) a year to attend. I think most kids would have a better chance of going to Hogwart's.
Speaking of Hogwarts... This is the grave of "Thomas Riddle". It is thought that a lot of character names were created while J.K. Rowling took walks through the graveyard.
Statue outside the cemetery dedicated to Grayfriars Bobby. He was a dog bought by one of the night watchmen to keep him company while he did his nightly cemetery patrols. After the watchman died, Bobby would go to his grave and watch over it every day... for 16 years. That's job dedication.
That tiny building in the foreground with the stake sticking out of the top used to be the main building in the marketplace. People who stole would have their ear nailed to the door, where they would stay for 48 hours while people were allowed to throw rotten food and feces on them. If they escaped they would forever have a deformed ear and be marked as a criminal, thus only being able to get work as a pirate at the Port of Leith. Pirates usually only lived a few weeks after signing up. Women would have to become prostitutes for pirates, an equally dangerous job.
That's all I have for Edinburgh, but check back (hopefully) soon for Part II about the Scottish Highlands!
