day 9 - march 24, 2009

This was a transition day, between Scotland and England. This day was the first day that we realised our trip was coming to a close. This day was a grumpy day. We weren't ready to leave Tori's company and her (and Scott and Jade's) hospitality. (THANKS FOR EVERYTHING!!) Nor were we ready to leave Scotland. But when you've got a flight to catch, you don't have much choice.

Scott drove us to catch the bus to Glasgow. We said some hurried goodbyes and got on the bus just in time. We pulled away from Dumfries and kp promptly fell asleep.

Finally! My revenge!
I also have a video of this which I'll try to upload later.

The day was grey and cold and rainy so my first impression of Glasgow was pretty much grey, cold and rainy.
We spent most of the day shoe shopping, and wandering around Primark deciding which ridiculously cheap things to purchase. We came in out of the rain and ate a hot meal, then it was time to head back to the bus station to grab our packs and head to the airport.

kp had a crush on the airport shuttle because it matched her outfit.

The flight to London was fast and easy--I fell asleep so it felt like we were there in no time.
I shouldn't even bother. She's just better at catching me in my countless lowest points. It's a real skill. Asshole.

We got into London and got on the Gatwick Express. BIG MISTAKE. It cost us £33! EACH! (Actually, I can't remember if it was £33 each, but let's say it was to illustrate my point that London was ripping us a new one from the get go.) We got onto the tube and then off again and starting walking in the exact wrong direction from our hostel. RIP. Plus, it was raining. RIP. Finally, we got turned around and found our hostel. By this time we were fairly settled into our grumpy moods. The hostel was fairly unwelcoming, and I had to buy a small towel that cost me £3.50. I lost my towel after the Loch Ness swim and had hired towels at hostels in Scotland for 20p. Nice, good sized towels. And then here I was in London buying a towel that would barely cover my ass. RIP. The size of the grumpy mood only increased when we got to our room and found the other bunks occupied by twittering post-teen girls who were intently discussing their outfit choices for the next day. For a long time. Like, entirely too long. Like, in whispers even after they turned the lights out. Kp & I escaped to the showers to wash away the grump, but when my shoes got wet despite my best efforts at keeping them dry, I decided to accept that London was giving us the shaft. (Now, looking back on it, I see that it wasn't London so much as it was ourselves just being grumpy, but at the time I was not pleased with our location. Plus, I missed Scotland.) We went to bed in our little bunks hoping that the next day would bring exciting fun in jolly old England.

At least the linen was clean.

day 8 - march 23, 2009

Scott and Tori made us a traditional Scottish fry up for breakfast. "Fry up" means LOTS OF MEAT.

"I used to be a vegetarian!"

I ate almost all of it, I even tried the black pudding and I have to admit--it was pretty delicious. Let's not talk about what's in it, though. Deal?

Scott was nice enough to give us the whirlwind tour of Dumfries and Galloway. We drove to Dunscore, where Tori's aunt and uncle have a farm. Her cousin was in and he let us explore the grounds and buildings. There were chickens:
And seldom used rooms and things:

I love exploring old places.

We climbed the hill opposite the farm, in the sheep paddock, and got an amazing view of the village of Dunscore.

The sheep kept running away because we had a dog with us. But she was more interested in kp.

It was windy.We checked out the Dunscore Kirk (church) which had a graveyard with some very old gravestones.

We left Dunscore and continued our driving tour of the area.

Dumlanrig Castle and Tori (babe).
Morton Castle. This castle was just open for anyone to go in and take a look. There were info plaques, but no one charging a handful of pounds for entry. Amazing.

If you know kp, you know she likes taking timed photos, as in setting up the camera, hitting the timer and running into the shot. She set one up in Morton Castle and tried to run into the shot, but didn't quite make it in time. So she asked me to do the pushing of the button and running into position. Piece of cake, I thought. I pushed the button and wasn't sure if it was working but kp yelled "IT'S GOING IT'S GOING!! RUN RUN RUN!!" So, I ran. Fast. Over uneven ground. And twisted my ankle. It made a gross grinding sort of crunch and pain shot up my calf and I limped the last few steps to kp. I didn't quite make it into position, but the camera did its job without fail.

lv: "kp, I think I hurt myself!"
kp: "GET IN THE SHOT GET IN THE SH--is this a trick?"

Driving around the Scottish countryside and seeing things from the car, pointed out to us by a local, was one of my favourite parts of the whole trip.

We had dinner in Dumfries then went for drinks at the Globe, which was Robbie Burns' "howff" (haunt, or local watering hole, sort of).
There was no one else in the bar, so we sat in the little snug that had Burns paraphernalia on all the walls. The bar lady chatted to us and when she found out that we were visiting she offered to take us on a tour of the upstairs, which is like a living Burns museum.
We saw the room he stayed in, where he ate and drank and we even got to sit in his chair.
In his room, she recited one of his poems to us and it blew us all away.

There is something about the Scottish attitude toward history that I really love. It's like history lives with them rather than behind them. Like it walks beside them as they go about their business, it informs their daily life and it's always there, intertwined in the now. It's a comfort rather than a burden. I admire it.

We had some good, authentic Scottish whisky before leaving the Globe and heading back to the house. A perfect end to a very Scottish day.

day 7 - march 22, 2009

Inverness.

Our hangovers were less severe than I imagined they would be, and a night of drinking did wonders for my back.

Back on the bus.

First stop: Fort Augustus for a coffee, but since we don't have any photos of it, I can't tell you much about it.

Next: Urquhart Castle.
We stayed long enough to take some photos and to disobey the rules (thanks again for the photo, Claire).
Back on the bus.

As we drove along Loch Ness (enormous, remember?) Graeme told us the story of the well of seven heads. I wrote it out in my journal, thinking I would transcribe it into this blog, but now that I'm sitting in my living room in Toronto, it seems an injustice to share it with you--you're not surrounded by the highlands, I can't type with a Scottish accent and I'm not even half the storyteller that Graeme is. Go to Scotland, take this tour, and ask to hear the story. It's a good one with treachery, murder, revenge and decapitation. You won't be sorry.

Our next stop was Glen Coe. Tori had told us how beautiful it was but I was totally unprepared for it. It's not that I didn't believe her, it's more that I had never been anywhere quite like it.

That's me up there, taking a photo of the hills. The term "as old as the hills" really meant something to me for the first time in the presence of these guys.

I wish I could have bottled the air there. It was fresh and sharp, and smelled like good, clean earth. My nose has never had it so good.It was very windy.

So, I have this red rain cape. My mum bought it for me YEARS ago and at the time I was like "Mum, I am NEVER going to wear this!" and she said "well, you never know, you might need it some time." And since then, every time I go anywhere--camping, Croatia, Cuba, doesn't matter--she says "OH you should take that li'l red rain cape!" in a cute Mum voice. It's at the level of inside joke now. I'm sure she thought I had tossed the LRRC ages ago, but it became the automatic hilarious response to any sort of travel announcement. When I was preparing for this trip, I said to my mum "I need to get a new jacket" and she said.. well, I'm sure you've figured out the pattern. So, I dug the LRRC out of my closet (OF COURSE I could never get rid of it!) and took it with me on the trip with the express intent of taking a photo of me in it somewhere in Scotland and giving it to my mum. Glen Coe seemed like the most ideal backdrop for a LRRC.

And this is why I don't wear the LRRC.
It turns me into a chubby 5 year old.

Back on the bus.

Driving through Glen Coe and seeing it through the bus windows was almost as stunning as walking around in it. Graeme spoke about a Highlander's tie to the land here and I began to understand (in a small, fractional way) why the Highlanders fought so hard for their homelands. Taking in the landscape also heightened just how heartbreaking it must have been when the Highlanders were pushed off their land and banned from wearing kilts and speaking Gaelic. It was very, very beautiful and I was sad to leave it behind after having only a small taste.

We were coming to the end of our tour and I was trying to ignore the fact that we were getting closer and closer to Edinburgh. Here's one thing that raised our spirits on the way back:

This is Hamish, the Heeland Coo, kp's new bf. He's a rockstar.
We have t-shirts that have him on them.
(My favourite Scottish souvenir, thanks kp!)

Our last stop was Stirling Castle to get a couple of shots of the outside of the castle, and the Wallace Monument across the way.

Here's me and our excellent tour guide:

I took the photo so I could show my Grandma the Anderson tartan and let me tell you: SHE WAS JUST TICKLED. She couldn't believe my luck that I had an Anderson for a tour guide (as if no other Scottish Highlander would have done... clan loyalty lives on!)

Back on the bus. FOR THE LAST TIME. Our tour had come to an end.

I know, kp. I feel the same way.

After arriving back in Edinburgh, we said a few quick goodbyes, and kp and I climbed up to check out Edinburgh Castle (and the view from there) one last time in the fading light of the day.
There was a nice man up there who really wanted to take our picture for us, so we let him, even though we generally prefer the self-portrait.
We wandered back through the city, trying to take it all in. Edinburgh did a good job of showing itself off to us one last time as the sun went down.
We ate some food and then headed out of the city to Dumfries, where Tori lives and works. Her flatmate Scott picked us up (thanks, Scott! You're a champion!) and we went to the 24 hour Tesco for some supplies. Kp and I had a job to find beans which she quickly got distracted from by rows upon rows of products.
It was certainly a stark contrast from the scenery we had become accustomed to thus far in Scotland.

I found the beans on my own.

Tori's room was very Tori and very welcoming and it was great to be somewhere comfortable. Although I was sad to leave the highlands behind, I was looking forward to seeing Tori's Scotland.

day 6 - march 21, 2009

Hostel breakfast.
The croissants out of that cardboard box were the best part.

I was really excited for our Scottish Highlands tour. Anyone that has read "Outlander" will understand why. We signed up for a tour with MacBackpackers called the Loch Ness Weekender. In advance of telling you all about our tour I will say that if you're ever looking for a tour of Scotland or a hostel to stay at USE MACBACKPACKERS. I'm not usually one for organised tours, but this was the BEST TOUR EVER.

Now, let's get on to why.

Firstly, we lucked out with our tour guide. His name was (and still is, I imagine) Graeme and he was dressed in Anderson tartan--my family on my Grandma's side are Andersons, so I took this to be a good sign. Graeme is a natural storyteller and he told us compelling tales of the Highlands with genuine passion and love for his history. He could convince the most English Englishman to spurn his heritage, strap on a kilt and dive headfirst into Loch Ness. But more on that later.

Our first stop on the tour was St. Andrew's, on the eastern coast of Scotland. St. Andrew's is the location of the oldest university in Scotland, is apparently the birth place of golf and has a beautiful ruined cathedral dating back to the 1300s.
We stayed just long enough to check out the graveyard (one of my favourite sites to check out whilst traveling), walk along the shore and appreciate that Scotland was welcoming us with a sunny, lovely day.

Back on the bus.

Next stop, Pitlochry for a quick lunch and mailing postcards. (Irish postcards, but nevermind!)

Kp had a crush on the mailboxes. No wonder. (They are just her size!)

We only saw about 1.5 blocks of Pitlochry, but what we did see only added to our suspicions that we might just LOVE Scotland.

Back on the bus.

Once we left Pitlochry, the landscape began to change. We crossed into the Highlands and drove through the Pass of Killicrankie. Graeme told us the story of the battle there between the Jacobites (the Highlanders) and the government (the English) but I'm not going to embarrass myself by trying to recount the particulars. Take the tour and listen for yourself.

At the start of our tour, kp and Tori and I were joking around and generally being the loudest (and clearly the most fun) on the bus. But, as we came into the highlands, we got quiet. I got goosebumps as the highlands opened up before us. The hills and the texture of the landscape were more striking than I could have imagined and I felt like my eyes couldn't look long enough or fast enough to take it all in.

Our next stop was Culloden. I knew a little bit about the battle of Culloden, but knowing a bit about it was nothing compared to looking at it while hearing a real, live Highlander tell you the story. We pulled into the parking lot at Culloden and Graeme told us the story of the Jacobite rising and the slaughter of the Highlanders on the field at Culloden as if it had happened last week rather than in 1746. My goosebumps got goosebumps and stepping out onto the field gave me a lump in my throat.
So many wars are fought over religion, and this one was no exception. Although it is easy to write this battle off as Scottish versus English, really it was Catholic versus Protestant for control over the country. It is heart-wrenching to think how close Bonnie Prince Charlie was to winning the throne--if only he had pressed on to take London rather than retreating, or if only there hadn't been a miscommunication with the French. I wonder how that would have affected Scotland, England, the world, even. Maybe it wouldn't have made an enormous difference in the grand scheme of things, but I would love to see how the UK would be different if it were run by Scots.

Back on the bus.

We left Culloden behind and headed to Loch Ness. I didn't realise that Loch Ness would be so enormous. The water is an unfriendly dark silver and the waves sort of slide one behind the next. Looking at it, you can completely understand why people would believe that there is a creature lurking in its depths. Although kp and I had already decided we weren't going to swim in Loch Ness, Graeme was able to peer pressure us into doing it. He used an age-old tactic of "when ye've got yer wee laddie on yer knee and he asks ye about Loch Ness, are ye gonna say 'aye, I've seen it' or are ye gonna say 'AYE, I'VE SWAM IN IT'????" Plus, we had developed just the tiniest bit of a crush by now and the Scottish accent weakened our resolve.
What were we thinking? Well, the answer is clear: we weren't. We didn't get any photos of us IN the Loch, but here's one I stole from our fellow Canadian on the tour, the lovely Claire:
We didn't bring our bathing suits, so that's Tori and kp in their pyjamas and me in my green underwear and striped knee socks. Claire is on the far right and Jeff (an Aussie lad) is beside her, sensibly wearing bathing trunks. YES it was cold, NO we didn't see Nessie and YES I would do it again (except I'd probably wait until mid-summer or thereafter). See how my little fists are clenched in preparation? I was preparing for SPEED. The bottom was all rocks: slimy, green, algae covered rocks, which I tried to run over as fast as possible so I could get into the water before my body went numb. Embarassingly, I screamed the entire time like a little girl. That is, until kp tried to drown me and I threw out my back. That stopped the screaming momentarily.

That's me and kp coming out of the water on the left-hand side there. I'm holding her hand because I don't know yet that she has broken me, since I can't feel my back due to numbness as a result of the cold, cold, very cold water. In all honesty, I couldn't feel my feet. I have never felt that before and it was a real marvel to be walking around on a body part I could not feel. Although I've never been so cold, I would say you HAVE to swim in Loch Ness if you ever get the chance. My only regret was that I didn't pause the screaming and take a half-second to appreciate that I was actually IN the water. So do me a favour and savour it for a second, then get the hell out of there.

Back on the bus.

Shivering, we headed to Inverness, the only city in the Highlands. Our hostel for the night was clean, cozy and fairly quiet and at the top of the hill near the relatively new castle.

This is me trying to stretch out my Loch Ness injury in our hostel.
Kp compassionately took a photo.

We headed into the city with a crew of people from the tour. The street we walked along led down to the water. It was cobblestoned, but not in an Irish way. Inverness felt more stately and solid as opposed to the cozy cramp of Dublin's streets. Less dashed together than Dublin, maybe. In any case, we ate lovely Thai food (yes, Thai) and drank lovely organic beer that tasted a bit of heather at a place called Hootenany's. There was live music upstairs and downstairs. We tried upstairs first.

Tori didn't like it.

Downstairs, there was a 3-piece blues band called the High Lonesome that kp and I just LOVED. The rest of our tour pals didn't love them as much and left before their last set, but kp and I stayed. Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was their harmonies, but either way, we became big fans real fast.

***I'm going to put in a video of one of their songs HERE... but I didn't have the patience to wait for it to load before going to bed. But I'll do it. Promise.

We befriended a little lady who loved the music as much as we did. She was fiestier than us, and pulled us on to the dance floor even though no one else was dancing there. We didn't mind. We were fuelled by pints at that point. Here's us with a couple of members of the band and our new li'l pal.
I think kp and I have that expression on our faces for two reasons:

1. beer.
2. our li'l pal just said something very racy about taking all of the band members home and what she would like to do to them once they're there. they don't seem to mind.

We closed the pub (meaning, we were still there when they were trying to close so we got kicked out) and went out onto the streets in search of a payphone. It had rained so the streets were wet and shiny and the city looked fantastic. I called Neil to wish him a happy anniversary and he said "oh, right! I forgot!" but I didn't mind because I was drunk and in Scotland.
While I was on the phone, kp took photos of a seagull. Here's the best one:

Whoops, kp! You've been drinking!

We stopped some fellow drunken young people on the street to get directions to the nearest chip shop and then ate the most delicious chips and coleslaw. On the way back kp pissed in an alleyway (but didn't get any on herself! A+!) and we made it back to the hostel safe and sound. We crawled (as) quietly (as possible) into our bunks and dreamed dreams of heather flavoured beer and Scottish harmonies.