Ok, I know this is way late, considering that we were in Scotland over the summer, but every time I use the bathrooms at the university here, I think with longing and affection of the public toilets in Scotland. You see, they had hot water. Every public toilet I was in. Hot water. In August. The level of cleanliness was generally good, if not equal in every place, but the availability of hot water for scouring my hands was like manna from heaven.
If only German public toilets were so accommodating. Here, there is only a cold tap, hence, no chance in hell of hot water. It makes me weep, this lack.
22 November 2007
14 October 2007
Day 9: Scotland vacation 2007
Between John harassing me to finish blogging our vacation, the rising pressure of classes starting back tomorrow, and two more trips waiting in the queue, it is time for me to finish up the Scotland trip. I’m also going back and adding a few overlooked details to days 1-8, so feel free to flip back through for some new stuff.
The ferry off of Skye only goes every 2 hours, and we didn’t want to spend half of our last day in Scotland stuck on Skye, so John reserved a spot for 8:20 AM, and we had to be there a half-hour early. Since we were sleeping on the other end of the island, we were aiming to leave by 6:30 at the latest. Driving across the island was slow-going, even though the traffic was light that time of morning. First there was the haar on the north end of the island, then the single-track roads and sheep on the road.
Our hostess at the B&B was kind enough to get up with us and make coffee and toast to go with our fast cold cereal. We didn’t make Hannah eat, trying to avoid another car-sick incident. Anyhoo, you would think after Edinburgh, we would have learned our lesson, but staying out late and getting up early seem to be the main ingredients in a Hannah barf-fest. She was hungry by the time we reached the ferry about 1 minute before loading, but she didn’t want any of the snacks we had, and the ferry only had chocolate muffins and cookies, which she would have gladly eaten, queasy or no. So she was angry and hungry for the whole ferry ride.
Once back on the mainland of Scotland, we headed east, well, after getting turned in the port where we got off the ferry. First stop, scenic barf clean-up on the side of the A830.
Second stop, Glenfinnan, site of the Glenfinnan Viaduct that was featured in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets when Harry and Ron drove their flying car over the Hogwarts Express. Unfortunately, we were on a tight schedule, so we couldn’t walk closer for a better view.
John really, really wanted to drive down to the tiny island of Iona, but we kept driving and driving and not getting any closer, and Hannah was sick again. We finally ended up skipping Iona and taking another ferry across Loch Linnhe.
We took a little driving break at Loch Leven and enjoyed the sunny day and the scenery.
The Scots really seem to know what a treasure their scenery is. They’ve made lots and lots of parking areas along the roads, particularly where the scenery is especially impressive.
Then we headed for Glen Coe, but of course we got lost and ended up making a biggish detour to Kinlochleven, where we had a nice lunch and wandered around near the river. John and Hannah amused themselves stacking the smooth river rocks, and I stole a couple of smaller ones as souvenirs.
We finally made it to Glen Coe, a beautiful valley that was the site of a massacre in 1692.
By the time we got to Bridge of Orchy, it was time again to stretch our legs. For Hannah and John, of course, that meant wading in the nearest body of water, the River Orchy.
We had to stop to check out Loch Lomand and use the bathroom (desperately!). (While waiting for me, John helpfully picked up a brochure, only it was in Italian. *g*) John found a sign that indicated the direction and distance of several points of interest, and he insisted that we try to find Rob Roy’s cave. We followed what we thought was a path, but it was a dead end. We realized that the sign wasn’t saying how to get to the points of interest, just in what direction they were. On second thought, we would have had to have crossed the loch to find the cave. Oops!
On our way into Glasgow, we stopped at Dunbarton to see the castle, but we got there about 5 minutes before closing, so we didn’t get to go in.
It was just as well that we didn’t go in, because we were already starting to cut it a little close. We were supposed to turn the rental car in around 6, but our flight didn’t leave until 9 pm. We figured the rental car people wouldn’t mind if we were a bit late, but the airline wouldn’t let us check in if we were there later than 45 minutes early.
When we left Dunbarton, it was after 5, and we still had to get all the way across Glasgow to Prestwick, whose slogan “Pure dead brilliant” set John’s teeth on edge for some reason. Driving in Glasgow was a nightmare. We got stuck in traffic, we got lost trying to find the freeway, we had to find our way through a hellish detour that resembled nothing more than a rat maze, and we almost ran out of gas. Since we had the car 5 days, we had to pay in advance for the rental agency to refill it and could turn it in empty.
I talked John into checking in right away, even though there was a longish line and we hadn’t eaten yet, which turned out to be good, because the line got twice as long by the time we got through, and then we could go eat before going through security. I wanted to buy some more souvenirs, but we ran out of time. One thing I found unusual about Prestwick was the availability of an outdoor smoking area inside the security zone. It was completely enclosed in chain-link fencing, so there was no possibility of sneaking in or out without bolt-cutters, which probably would have been noticed in the x-ray machine.
The flight home was uneventful, as far as I remember, and the drive home was loooooong. It was after 2 am before we got there, so our last day of vacation lasted a good 20 hours.
The ferry off of Skye only goes every 2 hours, and we didn’t want to spend half of our last day in Scotland stuck on Skye, so John reserved a spot for 8:20 AM, and we had to be there a half-hour early. Since we were sleeping on the other end of the island, we were aiming to leave by 6:30 at the latest. Driving across the island was slow-going, even though the traffic was light that time of morning. First there was the haar on the north end of the island, then the single-track roads and sheep on the road.
Our hostess at the B&B was kind enough to get up with us and make coffee and toast to go with our fast cold cereal. We didn’t make Hannah eat, trying to avoid another car-sick incident. Anyhoo, you would think after Edinburgh, we would have learned our lesson, but staying out late and getting up early seem to be the main ingredients in a Hannah barf-fest. She was hungry by the time we reached the ferry about 1 minute before loading, but she didn’t want any of the snacks we had, and the ferry only had chocolate muffins and cookies, which she would have gladly eaten, queasy or no. So she was angry and hungry for the whole ferry ride.
Once back on the mainland of Scotland, we headed east, well, after getting turned in the port where we got off the ferry. First stop, scenic barf clean-up on the side of the A830.
Second stop, Glenfinnan, site of the Glenfinnan Viaduct that was featured in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets when Harry and Ron drove their flying car over the Hogwarts Express. Unfortunately, we were on a tight schedule, so we couldn’t walk closer for a better view.
John really, really wanted to drive down to the tiny island of Iona, but we kept driving and driving and not getting any closer, and Hannah was sick again. We finally ended up skipping Iona and taking another ferry across Loch Linnhe.
We took a little driving break at Loch Leven and enjoyed the sunny day and the scenery.
The Scots really seem to know what a treasure their scenery is. They’ve made lots and lots of parking areas along the roads, particularly where the scenery is especially impressive.
Then we headed for Glen Coe, but of course we got lost and ended up making a biggish detour to Kinlochleven, where we had a nice lunch and wandered around near the river. John and Hannah amused themselves stacking the smooth river rocks, and I stole a couple of smaller ones as souvenirs.
We finally made it to Glen Coe, a beautiful valley that was the site of a massacre in 1692.
By the time we got to Bridge of Orchy, it was time again to stretch our legs. For Hannah and John, of course, that meant wading in the nearest body of water, the River Orchy.
We had to stop to check out Loch Lomand and use the bathroom (desperately!). (While waiting for me, John helpfully picked up a brochure, only it was in Italian. *g*) John found a sign that indicated the direction and distance of several points of interest, and he insisted that we try to find Rob Roy’s cave. We followed what we thought was a path, but it was a dead end. We realized that the sign wasn’t saying how to get to the points of interest, just in what direction they were. On second thought, we would have had to have crossed the loch to find the cave. Oops!
On our way into Glasgow, we stopped at Dunbarton to see the castle, but we got there about 5 minutes before closing, so we didn’t get to go in.
It was just as well that we didn’t go in, because we were already starting to cut it a little close. We were supposed to turn the rental car in around 6, but our flight didn’t leave until 9 pm. We figured the rental car people wouldn’t mind if we were a bit late, but the airline wouldn’t let us check in if we were there later than 45 minutes early.
When we left Dunbarton, it was after 5, and we still had to get all the way across Glasgow to Prestwick, whose slogan “Pure dead brilliant” set John’s teeth on edge for some reason. Driving in Glasgow was a nightmare. We got stuck in traffic, we got lost trying to find the freeway, we had to find our way through a hellish detour that resembled nothing more than a rat maze, and we almost ran out of gas. Since we had the car 5 days, we had to pay in advance for the rental agency to refill it and could turn it in empty.
I talked John into checking in right away, even though there was a longish line and we hadn’t eaten yet, which turned out to be good, because the line got twice as long by the time we got through, and then we could go eat before going through security. I wanted to buy some more souvenirs, but we ran out of time. One thing I found unusual about Prestwick was the availability of an outdoor smoking area inside the security zone. It was completely enclosed in chain-link fencing, so there was no possibility of sneaking in or out without bolt-cutters, which probably would have been noticed in the x-ray machine.
The flight home was uneventful, as far as I remember, and the drive home was loooooong. It was after 2 am before we got there, so our last day of vacation lasted a good 20 hours.
03 October 2007
Day 8: Scotland vacation 2007
We started pretty early so we could cover as much of the Isle of Skye as possible that day, but the north end, where we were staying, was almost completely obscured by thick fog, or haar, as the locals call it. We went to the Museum of Island Life first, and John got to try out his Gaelic on the man at the desk. While John and I wandered around the cottages, looking at the displays and reading signs, Hannah befriended a stray cat and drank some cocoa.
The thatched cottages were very interesting, but it was easy to see that the farmers and fishermen didn’t have an easy life. Just the wind and cold would have sent me packing after one day, but I’m a wuss that way.
The Museum was within walking (and viewing) distance of the graveyard where Flora MacDonald, the young lady who helped Bonnie Prince Charlie escape after the disaster at Culloden, is buried, but we didn’t go that far. We were ready to get back in the car. Then we drove around the north end of the island and up over the Quiraing. John wanted to get out and explore, and he kept extorting Hannah and I “just a little farther”. We ended up wading across a soggy expanse of sheep-poop covered marsh, thanks to John’s supernatural ability to take us into inhospitable environments.
See that big rocky thing on the right in the photo below? That’s where we had just been swimming in sheep excrement.
From there we traveled back down the east coast to Lealt Falls (still too foggy to see) and on to Portree for a quick and delicious Chinese take-away lunch.
Then we hopped back in the car to cross to the west side of the island to tour the Talisker Distillery. Despite the tour being held in English, we weren’t able to learn much thanks to the deafeningly loud machines we were inspecting. John enjoyed his complementary drink, though. He also picked up a tip in the shop that it would be cheaper to buy a bottle of Talisker in Germany than there, thanks to the difference in local taxes.
Skye is really not that big of an island, but it has lots of mountainous regions, so there are only so many places they could put roads in. Also, there are many places where the roads are what they call “single-track”, which means what it says: one lane. But there are lots of little passing places on the single-track roads, so if you meet another car, one of you should pull in and let the other one by. Most people we encountered were pretty courteous drivers, so it wasn’t a big deal, except you don’t make such good time as you might have imagined, given the size of the island.
Here is where we edged the Cuillins going back to the east side of the island and the main road heading south. Magnificent!
The main reason we headed south on this day was so John could visit the Gaelic College there and maybe get some more books and materials for his self-study of Gaelic. We turned in at the new campus, which is right on the shore, and let Hannah poke around near the water.
It turns out that the bookstore was at the old campus, though, so John ran over there while we hung out at the beach, and later in the parking lot (John had the keys, so we couldn’t wait in the car). From there we headed back north, stopping at the Old Bridge at Sligachan.
John let Hannah play down near the water while he took some photos, which I thought was a bad idea, but I was overruled. And just as I foresaw, sploosh!
Fortunately, I had taken to packing extra clothes for Hannah after the initial barf-fest in Edinburgh, but she had to change out in the open next to the car. We made it back to Portree in plenty of time to eat a hot dinner before going to a ceilidh. According to the guide we bought at the Museum of Island Life, “the word ceilidh in Gaelic means a small homely [sic] gathering of friends. In the days before the arrival of radio and television, it was customary for neighbours to meet together in the long winter evenings and to make their own entertainment.” John and I enjoyed the performances, although we agreed with Hannah that maybe the venue was a little small for the bagpipes. Imagine putting your head inside a steel barrel and allowing someone to beat on it; that’s how loud it was. But the singer, the fiddlers, the accordionist, and especially the clarsach (harp) player were just wonderful. Unfortunately, we were dumb and neglected to put an extra pair of batteries in our camera bag, so we ran out of juice after about 2 minutes. D’oh! John ran out to the car during the intermission, so we managed to get a few photos (still dim, darn it!) and a couple of video clips after the break.
This lady was amazing.
As evidenced here. (I loved how the accordionist looked completely bored while she was playing. Oh, the ennui of playing a complicated song on a complicated instrument. *sigh!*)
There was even a dancer (plus brain-damagingly loud bagpipes). The fiddler was the emcee, and she kept teasing the bagpiper about his dreadlocks. How cool is that--a bagpiper wearing traditional kilt and dreadlocks!
We were scheduled to catch an early ferry off the island the next morning, and to get to the ferry we’d have to drive alllll the way back down to the southern tip, so we left before the end in order to get a little sleep before our very long last day in Scotland. The haar had rolled in again, and it took us about an hour to get back to the B&B, which was actually run out of someone’s home, but she assured us that they never locked the door. So of course it was locked when we got there, late, and we had to tap on a window to get in. Such is the life of the world traveler.
The thatched cottages were very interesting, but it was easy to see that the farmers and fishermen didn’t have an easy life. Just the wind and cold would have sent me packing after one day, but I’m a wuss that way.
The Museum was within walking (and viewing) distance of the graveyard where Flora MacDonald, the young lady who helped Bonnie Prince Charlie escape after the disaster at Culloden, is buried, but we didn’t go that far. We were ready to get back in the car. Then we drove around the north end of the island and up over the Quiraing. John wanted to get out and explore, and he kept extorting Hannah and I “just a little farther”. We ended up wading across a soggy expanse of sheep-poop covered marsh, thanks to John’s supernatural ability to take us into inhospitable environments.
See that big rocky thing on the right in the photo below? That’s where we had just been swimming in sheep excrement.
From there we traveled back down the east coast to Lealt Falls (still too foggy to see) and on to Portree for a quick and delicious Chinese take-away lunch.
Then we hopped back in the car to cross to the west side of the island to tour the Talisker Distillery. Despite the tour being held in English, we weren’t able to learn much thanks to the deafeningly loud machines we were inspecting. John enjoyed his complementary drink, though. He also picked up a tip in the shop that it would be cheaper to buy a bottle of Talisker in Germany than there, thanks to the difference in local taxes.
Skye is really not that big of an island, but it has lots of mountainous regions, so there are only so many places they could put roads in. Also, there are many places where the roads are what they call “single-track”, which means what it says: one lane. But there are lots of little passing places on the single-track roads, so if you meet another car, one of you should pull in and let the other one by. Most people we encountered were pretty courteous drivers, so it wasn’t a big deal, except you don’t make such good time as you might have imagined, given the size of the island.
Here is where we edged the Cuillins going back to the east side of the island and the main road heading south. Magnificent!
The main reason we headed south on this day was so John could visit the Gaelic College there and maybe get some more books and materials for his self-study of Gaelic. We turned in at the new campus, which is right on the shore, and let Hannah poke around near the water.
It turns out that the bookstore was at the old campus, though, so John ran over there while we hung out at the beach, and later in the parking lot (John had the keys, so we couldn’t wait in the car). From there we headed back north, stopping at the Old Bridge at Sligachan.
John let Hannah play down near the water while he took some photos, which I thought was a bad idea, but I was overruled. And just as I foresaw, sploosh!
Fortunately, I had taken to packing extra clothes for Hannah after the initial barf-fest in Edinburgh, but she had to change out in the open next to the car. We made it back to Portree in plenty of time to eat a hot dinner before going to a ceilidh. According to the guide we bought at the Museum of Island Life, “the word ceilidh in Gaelic means a small homely [sic] gathering of friends. In the days before the arrival of radio and television, it was customary for neighbours to meet together in the long winter evenings and to make their own entertainment.” John and I enjoyed the performances, although we agreed with Hannah that maybe the venue was a little small for the bagpipes. Imagine putting your head inside a steel barrel and allowing someone to beat on it; that’s how loud it was. But the singer, the fiddlers, the accordionist, and especially the clarsach (harp) player were just wonderful. Unfortunately, we were dumb and neglected to put an extra pair of batteries in our camera bag, so we ran out of juice after about 2 minutes. D’oh! John ran out to the car during the intermission, so we managed to get a few photos (still dim, darn it!) and a couple of video clips after the break.
This lady was amazing.
As evidenced here. (I loved how the accordionist looked completely bored while she was playing. Oh, the ennui of playing a complicated song on a complicated instrument. *sigh!*)
There was even a dancer (plus brain-damagingly loud bagpipes). The fiddler was the emcee, and she kept teasing the bagpiper about his dreadlocks. How cool is that--a bagpiper wearing traditional kilt and dreadlocks!
We were scheduled to catch an early ferry off the island the next morning, and to get to the ferry we’d have to drive alllll the way back down to the southern tip, so we left before the end in order to get a little sleep before our very long last day in Scotland. The haar had rolled in again, and it took us about an hour to get back to the B&B, which was actually run out of someone’s home, but she assured us that they never locked the door. So of course it was locked when we got there, late, and we had to tap on a window to get in. Such is the life of the world traveler.
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