Scotland

I have two exams left and a hellish paper. What does this all mean? Updating is my present to myself... here is installment number one. Expect others as I finish pages of this icky experimental phonetics paper.

And so we arrive to the long awaited travelling part. Once again. When I last left you, I was ready to be whisked away to Scotland and Ireland for two weeks of alone time travelling. The alone part wasn't all that bad; for those of you who know me, y'all know that big groups aren't exactly my thing. It was really good to just take a break from Lille and hop on a flight over that English channel. I'll do my best to sum up here, because the stories are honestly too numerous to just list out here.

A handy dandy map to help you out.

Scotland:
I started out in Glasgow that first evening, but I never would have known that it was an English speaking country, not with the accent they had. I was struggling to understand everyone… even the nice old man at customs who called me 'love' and wished me a good trip. I ended up nodding often and smiling. I walked around Glasgow for most of the day, which is nothing special, then I met up with Naiara, my host. She's originally from the Basque country and is studying in Glasgow. We chatted about language a lot as the Basque language is one of those very unique things that no one really understands. She made me a Spanish omlette (think potatoes and onions in egg…) and wrapped the left-overs up for me for the next day, when a bus ride took me up to Oban.

The buses were my own tour buses, just look at the scenery

Oban is a beautiful town situated on the coast, making it prime summer time visiting.

Now, it wasn't quite summer, but I had managed to catch some beautifully sunny, if chilly, weather. I got off the bus and went directly to the tourism office to check my mail at one of the most expensive internet places I have ever been. It was a necessary evil, however, because my host Leo had yet to send me his contact info and here I was, in his town, looking for him. Turns out he never got my mail asking him for where and when we could meet up. Instead, I went to the front desk of the tourist info centre and asked for the WWII lookout tower nearby. The nice lady explained that there were two in the area, one to the north and one to the south, but that I shouldn't go to the one in the north because it is actually a private residence. That's when I piped up and said that it was the one I was looking for. The only real reason I came to Oban was to stay with Leo in his WWII lookout tower. I trekked on up there, stopping occasionally to read my book or admire the view. I also made a pit stop to buy a bottle of wine as a housewarming sort of thing.

I want this bench to be my own.

This happened to be the first place i have ever been carded… and I had to use my passport. I found Leo fooling around in his veggie oil run van, sorting out parts that he needed as a mechanic.

Leo's abode

and the view

We made vegetarian haggis and turnips and potatoes that evening and talked about everything imaginable. We compared Carnavals from different areas, told of music adventures, I got to hear about his great 6 month hitching from one side of Canada to the other. It was fantastic. The next morning I was out of Oban and on my way to Portree, Isle of Skye.

I went through the Highlands of Scotland in order to get there and that is, I think, the most breathtaking scenery I have ever witnessed. Take mountains still topped with snow, cover the lower half with forests and shove them up against lakes. There you have the Highlands in a nutshell. I stopped taking pictures because they just could even begin to capture what I saw. But here's an attempt quand même.

The Isle of Skye is a lovely place, connected to Scotland by the Kyle Bridge.

Portree looked like a town out of a postcard.

This is what my hostel saw every morning,

I grabbed a hostel there and treated myself to a meal in a restaurant, instead of the usual grocery store run. Cue the Cullen Skink. This is a soup of potatoes, cream and fish. And it is glorious. I had a little table for one, got my book out and digested this incredible soup on the bay. I decided to go ahead and splurge for a dessert. Worth it. All of it. A wonderful meal, followed by an early bedtime. That is just one of the facets of the gloriousness of travelling alone; no one to judge you when your bedtime is suddenly nine thirty.

Next on my list was a couchsurfer who lives in Lower Milovaig. I caught an early ride out to Dunvegan and saw the castle.

Paid more than I should have considering how little time I actually spent there, but I did get to see this flag that the family claims was given to them by fairies and has been the reason they have won so many battles. It was in tatters, but still interesting all the same. After getting bread and directions to my next stop, I found myself surrounded by scenery such as this:

Turns out that there is one street that goes to Lower Milovaig. In fact, there is only one street. This street just changes names to let you know how far you need to go. And Lower Milovaig is as far as you can go. I arrive at this animal sanctuary guest house and knock on the window, asking for Rima, the lady who was to host me. Instead of meeting her, I was met with a host of confused faces. Rima was in London at the time and had neglected to mention to her husband, mother in law, and new volunteer that they might be having someone join them. Luckily, they were up to taking care of me. Once we had settled that I was in fact able to sleep there, I took off on a leisurely stroll out to Neis point. All the way out on the Western part of Isle of Skye. I start walking and see nothing but sheepscattered beautiful landscape.

I am literally the only person on the road, maneuvering through these wooly beasts as they could care less that a road even exists. The walk is longer than expected, about two hours, but I was taking my time. About an hour and a half into it, it kind of starts to sprinkle. Nothing terrible, really. I keep on walking, passing several houses. Nearly at the end of this line of houses, the sprinkle has turned to rain. Three minutes later, it was snow, coming at me sideways. I realize that I have no where to go really and debate knocking on doors and asking for shelter. So, with one side of me completely drenched from this freak, one direction snow storm, I knock on the door of the last house. Aaaaannnnddd there's no answer. The other houses are quite a ways away now, so I walk around the back of this one and use the wall as a barrier until things calm down a bit. And they do, lucky me. Ten minutes afterwards, I was back on that road, dripping, heading onward to see a lighthouse. I finally made it and it was worth it. An insane number of stairs later (in the brightest sun, drying the same side that had suffered so in the storm) and this lighthouse shows up out of no where. What a view!

I made it!!!

I hung out there for a bit, experimenting with the timer on my camera and recovering in general from my trek out there. After a while, though, the slightly greying clouds and the hour convinced me to make my way back home. I leisurely started the walk back, pausing to take pictures of scenery that I had neglected due to extreme weather circumstances and marveling at the amount of people that managed to only come out all this way now that it was sunny.

At one point in time a car that was passing me going the same direction slowed down. The two guys mentioned that they saw me walking when they went to see the lighthouse and that I was apparently still walking. I must have looked pretty lonely amongst the sheep, so they gave me a lift on back. From the Netherlands, they had been living in Scotland for a few years now. I actually saw them the next day in Portree again… to which they requested the next time I see them I have to buy them a drink. Back to Milovaig, however.

Where I stayed is this animal sanctuary.

The only person that is there full time is the volunteer… in this case Alice, who had started the day before I got there. The place is surrounded by chickens, pigs, cats, goats, and sheep. One ewe was with lamb, so I helped build the shelter for her. That's why Rima's mother-in-law was there--to help in case the lamb was born and Rima wasn't there. The two of us got along really well. I think she wanted someone to mother, but as Alice is a vegan with a wheat allergy, she was left to mothering me. Porridge, cookies, tea, dinner, breakfast. And we spent the evening all reading by the wood stove, then early to bed again. This time I think it might have even been before nine. But we were on a farm of sorts, so don't judge.

In the morning, the lovely people who had stayed in the guesthouse

offered to bring me into town with them and they ended up giving me a ride off the island whereupon I set our for Inverness! Now in Inverness I did NOT go to Loch Ness, but I found the town to be absolutely beautiful. My favorite part were these little islands in the River Ness that have been connected with a set of bridges and set up into the nicest little park with fun benches everywhere in the best spots imaginable. This park ranks high on my list of parks. Fantastic.

I wasn't in Inverness long at all and stayed in a hostel (where my room was filled with Germans… something of a trend throughout the trip, actually.) Little bit of internet, little bit of bread and nutella and a lot of tea and then I caught a bus to Aberdeen. I was about to get on a bus when I looked at the schedule and saw buses to Aberdeen with a C by them. Reading further, I saw that this was to inform me that this bus used a coastal route to get to Aberdeen. Now I like water, and I figured that if I was going to pay for a bus I might as well get my money's worth, so I chose a later bus. As I am buying the ticket from the driver, he says, "You do realize that this is the longest way to Aberdeen, right? " "Yes." "No, I mean it is the longest possible way to get to Aberdeen." "Okay." "… Okay then."

It was a long ride. Somewhere near five hours. We changed drivers three full times. But I was along the coast…even passed through Cullen, the town where my new favorite soup originated. Pulled into Aberdeen

and I amused myself until my host contacted me. Enter Anita, or Neets rather. Her bike hasn't had a seat for months. I had tea at her friends house as we set up an assembly line to stuff envelopes for her work. I talked with a French Canadian who was sewing juggling balls. They had transformed their yard into a beautiful garden, with bells in the trees and work gloves on the clothesline. While her roommate and I made bean burritos, Neets made a dress from a sheet. The we went out for music which was pretty awesome. If i hadn't lost the paper, I'd tell you who was playing. Then home again, home again, to one of the more comfy mattresses of my trip.

When I had asked John what I should see in Scotland, he told me to go to Dunotter castle. So I did. The castle was closed when I got there, and when it was opened an hour and a half, I deemed it too expensive. So I bought ice cream and postcards instead. No regrets.

An uneventful return to Aberdeen, lunch in a bar with really good burgers that are also really cheap. Watched whatever soccer game that was on. I thought it only appropriate to then walk off all of that french fry burgerness, so I went on over to the beach, and then walked back around town a bit, and eventually back to Neets, exhausted. Sleep and then leave her house before dawn to catch the airport bus and a plane to Dublin. And there you have it, Scotland. An overload of photos... but it was an overload of scenery.

I think this country may have stolen my heart.