Favorite Philosopher's Blog

June 11

Big pound-the-pavement day in Florence.  After hotel breakfasts (there is nothing as scrumptious as hotel breakfasts in Italy!  Those chocolate croissants….) we took off to use our 9 a.m. ticket for Accademia Gallery to get our fill of Michelangelo.  I had seen David on my last visit, but again, being on a tour did not allow me to stay as long as I would have wanted.  This time we had all the time in the world.  Al and I talked about how there is a reason for its stature in the art world.  We had seen many, many sculptures, including some of Michelangelo’s and this one is other-worldly.  

As a physical therapist who made a living out of studying anatomy, the precision is humbling.  This guy knew his muscles and tendons and veins and toenails and – of course – butts and other things.  Being allowed the time to notice the rock in his hand, the slingshot over his shoulder, his eyes preparing to take aim.  

Another touch that only a master would think to add was the tree stump against which his right calf and foot was braced as he decided his next shot.  Again, my eye for balance and force was pleased with this stance which was yes, inanimate, but also muscles alive with balance and readiness. I’m glad I got to see it again.  I love tours as you often learn many things you might not on your own, but in some cases it is better to just sit with yourself and contemplate. I do not have any close up photos of David.  Better photographers than I have done so and in the past my photos were “meh” so….  

I had bought a selfie stick as mentioned and we were laughing as we tried to figure out how to use it when a guard came up and said no sticks. Which makes sense – I have often been annoyed by people like me, most notably the young woman in St. Peter’s Basilica a few years ago who was taking sexy selfies in front of religious statues.  

We then made our way to the Duomo Baptistry, stood inside there for awhile and admired the cavernous interior.  Then to the Duomo Museum, which had been renovated since I’d been there and well done.  It used to be kind of tucked away which was kind of cool – it was almost unnoticed twenty years ago and it was a well-travelled friend who insisted we visit.  Now it is a modern addition to the Duomo complex with better lighting and more room.  We were fortunate to be there for the Tre Pietas exhibition – all three of Michelangelo’s pietas were present, the “famous” one from the Vatican (who sculpts fabric so perfectly?), the Bandini which is my personal favorite and which depicts Nicodemus taking Christ from the cross. Nicodemus’ face bears Michelangelo’s likeness as an old man and just moves me like no other.  The third is an unfinished pieta of Mary and Jesus that he was sculpting when he died.   You know, when I retired, I was kind of bummed out – I finally felt experienced enough at my chosen profession and now it was time to go. I grieved. I still had potential.  I think of what this one-of-a-kind man could have done if he lived for another couple of hundred years.  Mary can be easily replaced.  This guy – never. 

I suddenly realized in a panic that I had not planned to take Al to the Santa Croce Cathedral. Big mistake.  I was able to snag tickets (it wasn’t that hard) for 1 p.m. and off we went.  This church. Oh man.  Everyone who is anyone is interred in this church: Michelangelo, Galileo, Fermi, Machiavelli, Marconi, Dante, Rossini, Florence Nightingale (she was born in Florence).   When you walk on the floor you are walking on tombs of many other relatively unknown movers and shakers. Something like 200 tombs on the floor alone.  I was so glad I remembered at the last minute and would have been so sad to have missed that.  Once again, I got to spend as much time as I wanted because there was no tour bus to hurry back to.  

We then decided to take a quick walk over to the train station to see if it was reasonable to walk there in the morning with our luggage.  It wasn’t. Worse, it meant we missed seeing the Santa Maria Reparata which was replaced by the Duomo Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore both of which were included on our three day ticket but which closed early on Saturday.   The latter is really not that impressive inside, it is the outside that is mind boggling so that was not such a loss.  Sorry to miss the Reparata as it has been excavated in recent times and has all kinds of evidence of housing a very early Christian community. 

We ended up having a great dinner (aren’t they all in Italy?) in a little restaurant – there are so many – pasta with lobster sauce and half a lobster each.  Yummy.  Finished it with a serving of limoncello. As a bonus I got to see the last two minutes of the Grand Prix Qualifying 3 for that week. (I’m in a fantasy league).

Big pound-the-pavement day in Florence.  After hotel breakfasts (there is nothing as scrumptious as hotel breakfasts in Italy!  Those chocolate croissants….) we took off to use our 

 9 a.m. ticket for Accademia Gallery to get our fill of Michelangelo.  I had seen David on my last visit, but again, being on a tour did not allow me to stay as longs as I would have wanted.  This time we had all the time in the world.  Al and I talked about how there is a reason for its stature in the art world.  We had seen many, many sculptures, even some of Michelangelo’s and this one is other-worldly.  

As a physical therapist who made a living out of studying anatomy, the precision is humbling.  This guy knew his muscles and tendons and veins and toenails and – of course – butts and other things.  Being allowed the time to notice, the rock in his hand, the slingshot over his shoulder, his eyes preparing to take aim.  

Another touch that only a master would think to add was the tree stump against which his right calf and foot was braced as he decided his next shot.  I’m glad I got to see it again.  I love tours as you often learn many things you might not on your own, but in some cases it is better to just sit with yourself and contemplate. I do not have any close up photos of David.  Better photographers than I have done so and in the past my photos were “meh” so….  

I had bought a selfie stick and we were laughing as we tried to figure out how to use it when a guard came up and said no sticks. Which makes sense – I have often been annoyed by people like me, most notably the young woman in St. Peter’s Basilica a few years ago who was taking sexy selfies in front of religious statues.  

We then made our way to the Duomo Baptistry, stood inside there for awhile and admired the cavernous interior.  Then to the Duomo Museum, which had been renovated since I’d been there and well done.  It used to be kind of tucked away which was kind of cool – it was almost unnoticed twenty years ago and it was a well-travelled friend who insisted we visit.  Now it is a modern addition to the Duomo complex with better lighting and more room.  We were fortunate to be there for the Tre Pietas exhibition – all three of Michelangelo’s pietas were present, the “famous” one from the Vatican (who can sculpt fabric like that?), the Bandini which is my personal favorite and which depicts Nicodemus taking Christ from the cross. Nicodemus’ face bears Michelangelo’s likeness as an old man and just moves me like no other.  The third is an unfinished pieta of Mary and Jesus that he was sculpting when he died.   You know, when I retired, I was kind of bummed out – I finally felt experienced enough at my chosen profession and now it was time to go. I still had potential.  I think of what this one-of-a-kind man could have done if he lived for another couple of hundred years.  I can be easily replaced.  This guy – never. 

I suddenly realized in a panic that I had not planned to take Al to the Santa Croce Cathedral. Big mistake.  I was able to snag tickets (it wasn’t that hard) for 1 p.m. and off we went.  This church. Oh man.  Everyone who is anyone is interred in this church: Michelangelo, Galileo, Fermi, Machiavelli, Marconi, Dante, Rossini, Florence Nightingale (she was born in Florence).   When you walk on the floor you are walking on tombs of many other relatively unknown movers and shakers.  I was so glad I remembered at the last minute and would have been so sad to have missed that.  Once again, I got to spend as much time as I wanted because there was no tour bus to hurry back to.  

We then decided to take a quick walk over to the train station to see if it was reasonable to walk there in the morning with our luggage.  It wasn’t. Worse, it meant we missed seeing the 

Santa Maria Reparata which was replaced by the Duomo Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore both of which were included on our three day ticket but which closed early on Saturday.   The latter is really not that impressive inside, it is the outside that is mind boggling.  Sorry to miss the Reparata as it has been excavated in recent times and has all kinds of evidence of housing a very early Christian community. 

We ended up having a great dinner (aren’t they all in Italy?) in a little restaurant – there are so many – pasta with lobster sauce and half a lobster each.  Yummy.  Finished it with a serving of limoncello. As a bonus I got to see the last two minutes of the Grand Prix Qualifying 3 for that week. (I’m in a fantasy league).

Off to bed for another early morning.  

Exciting day!  Raina left early to join her friends at their hotel to do her hair.  I had breakfast with Jeff and Al and then we packed up.  My work had just begun.  At 11:30 we checked out, I walked over to car park and picked up the car, but not before panicking because the ticket payment thingy kept rejecting my card.  All was well until someone came up behind me and everyone knows the “omg this guy is going to think I’m an idiot” feeling.  Somehow I started over again and it did it.  

Found my way back to hotel and the guys directed me to come up on the sidewalk a bit so they could load up – streets are crowded and it made sense.  Apparently I went too far because the grouchiest old (my age) Scottish woman ever said “Nice job of blocking the sidewalk, guys” to which I responded through the open window: “I’m sorry”.  At which point she looked me dead in the eye with a look that would fell a Jacobite: “No you’re not….”    Most of you are now saying “oh boy, not good, bitchy Scottish lady. Did you really say that to Mary”?  I responded “Actually, I AM” and threw in for good measure while she walked away: “Bitch”.  I know, I know.  This doesn’t do anything to counteract the negative vibes floating all over the planet right now.  I watched her until she got to the corner at which point she turned around and was looking my way and because I am not one to glance away from a stare down I just stared right back at her with a “you don’t know THIS Jacobite” look.  Proof that one should simply take the high road while others take the low is that it irritated me for several hours.  After all, I WAS sorry.  It wasn’t me who told me to get on the sidewalk and I was worried at the time that the guys were taking too long as it was.   Oh the unfairness of it all!

Al went off to meet up with Joe – they would catch a cab later – and Jeff and I found our way to the Carlowrie Castle., the wedding venue.  We were greeted by eager young people ready to carry our luggage up to the rooms.  As I was in charge of the wedding dress, I was taken to the dressing room/apartment where Raina would get ready.  

After doing that it was back in the car for me.  This 30 minute drive back and forth included it all: dual carriageway, single lane roads, city driving and more stop lights than I knew existed in the town and which I discovered because each one stopped me, and my old friends the roundies made appearances.  Fortunately, this wedding of 9 people total was loosely scheduled so being late to pick up the bride and her entourage of two was not that much of an issue. 

I am going to include a link to the venue because I can’t possibly describe it. www.carlowriecastle.co.uk    We had the whole place and the grounds to ourselves. For nine people it was much more than we needed but was quite welcome after all. It was nice during the evening to just “run up to my room” for whatever. It really is a castle that was lived in for 130 years by the Hutchinson family, the last of which was Isobel Wylie Hutchinson (1889 – 1982) who was a botanist and – wow – in the early part of the twentieth century did things like go on expeditions to places like the Artic and ghost ships on her own collecting specimens for the Royal Botanical Gardens.  That’s just the start of it.   If you like reading about strong independent women, check out her bio on the website. 

 Turns out the apartment in which Raina dressed was the room where Al and I would be staying – foyer, bathroom, bedroom, another bigger bathroom.  I asked Jeff why he and Raina didn’t have that room and he said, “You’re the matriarch”.  Well, who knew?  Al said that he is actually the king so of course that would be our apartment.  (Every castle we’ve visited had a queen’s apartment, a king’s apartment, etc. I think I should have one at home).   The staff was outstanding, and we had a lot of fun getting to interact with them since we were such a small crowd.  I think they were relaxed and probably grateful for an easy bride and a fun group of people.  The photographer was WONDERFUL, and the pictures will be great because if we ever got stilted his impish Scottish smile would pop out from behind the camera and none of us could help but smile spontaneously.

The next couple of hours were all about Raina – getting into her dress, fluffing her hair, doing her makeup, posing for the photographer.  Kait and Jade flitted around her like the attentive ladies in waiting that they were.  I ironed the veil and then sat back and stayed out of the way and just enjoyed the beauty of friendships and youth and love and marvel at the woman my son was about to marry.  I popped over to the guys’ room and Jeff looked nice too, and we all know this isn’t about him in that regard, but he did look quite handsome in his three piece suit.

As for me I got dressed and realized the flat shoes I picked up at the last minute suddenly looked like house slippers, so I had to opt for my sandals which were better.  Nobody is looking at me anyway but I’m dreading the photos and my knit dress without proper support garments – well, I’m just not looking forward to it.  We all know how it is – the bride will naturally pick the best photos of her so God only knows whether I’ll actually look like the mother of the groom or an unfortunate photo bomb.  

Somewhere in there we all went out to the castle lea where we enjoyed looking at the Highland cows aka cutest cows on the planet.   The photographer did his job as did my son, Joe, who likes the camera (except when it’s pointing at him). I’m hoping for a good shot from Joe to put on our dining room travel wall where we hang local art from places we’ve visited.

Then it was back on the road for me, the couple and the photographer for some photos at a bridge, then drop them back off and head to the airport (nearby) to drop off the car, and a cab ride back to Carlowrie.  Whew. After all that driving I was finally ready to say goodbye to my little Toyota pal and now that I think about it the only photo I will have of it is what the photographer might have grabbed.

The rest was just as wonderful as a wedding could be.  Just like Andy and Kelsey’s wedding, it was all the good stuff, none of the hassle.  The wedding ceremony was outdoors, it was overcast but no rain, and after hearing the bride say nice things about my son during her vows and my son say things back to her that were flattering and true, the castle staff passed around delish canapes and champagne. 

The ceremony had me in tears which had not happened to me before.  I cried later at the first dance as well.  I wrote a blog years ago that while I didn’t feel empty nest when Joe and Andy left home, I really felt it when Jeff graduated from college and moved to Minnesota for good.  I think it’s that “last baby” thing because I felt the same sense of melancholy here.  To hear Raina mention his “kind heart” in her vows just set me off.  Jeff came out of the womb a naturally kind person.   Aa mother it was hard to envision, even as he toddled, that his innocence would be slowly chipped away by people like the sidewalk grouch in the city. The unfairness of life and the unkindness of people would eat at him, and at times it has. To hear this woman mention it and honor it specifically just – whew.  

Our dinner was intimate.  One thing we all noticed in Edinburgh as we dined at restaurants and had weddings at castles is that there are real, live candles everywhere.  Like lots of them. It is beautiful and we wished we didn’t live in fire country.

We danced for a while but then Al and I retired – 5:15 am taxi to airport had us both a bit nervous.  We packed up and then I went back down for one more hug and safe travels to all.  The kids danced for a few more hours, then all was quiet in our little Scottish castle til dawn.

June 8, 2022

Woke up to rain. We obviously cannot complain after having such gorgeous weather, and Jeff and Raina were expecting it because it’s Scotland, so it’s all good.

Up for 7 a.m. breakfast and headed over to Edinburgh Castle for a 9:30 entry time. Met up with Jade and Kaitlin, friends of the couple, as well as our son Joe, all of us decked out for sailing on the high seas during a storm. The rain was not relentless but challenging enough when it did come down.

As Al and I had been in Scotland already for ten days, we’d had about all we could handle of Scottish military history. I’m suddenly having a stark realization that although I thought Scotland was all about bagpipes and kilts and drums – and it is – it’s because it is a country that just couldn’t stop warring. The Edinburgh Castle is essentially a war museum with a little bit of royal history thrown in – which necessitated more war. I’m leaving here a bit melancholy that such a beautiful country physically prides itself more on its military history than anything else. The beauty of the music and the dance and the yarn and weaving and all is not lost on me, but the wars are so all consuming.

Long story short we were slightly unimpressed with Edinburgh Castle except for the sheer size of it and also that it is almost entirely intact, but our “meh” was just because we’d already seen as many swords and medals and dirks and headwear and kilt outfits that we needed to see. It was a wonderful museum. Also we agreed we like the castles that are half there – seems more “real” somehow. Guess we’re turning into castle snobs? I dunno.

We all stopped in for lunch at a fancier restaurant than we expected but it was good. I had rabbit terrine and I really didn’t even know what I was ordering but I know I like rabbit, and it was tasty. After lunch we all went our separate ways, Joe did his usual lone walker thing and sent photos of some street that turned into a one lane road and took him up to a wonderful view of the whole city. Al and I found our way past the University of Edinburgh through the Meadow Walk to a little neighborhood where I found my yarn shop. I had bought some fingering yard in Iceland and it was so rough I really wanted to make something with it but wanted something to soften it up a bit. The beauty of a small business yarn shop is the proprietor can tell you exactly what you need for the job. I’ll just be knitting scarves or something but she advised me the exact yarn to get and how much. No thinking required on my part. Much appreciated.

Before you know it, it was time for the “rehearsal” dinner which was pretty much just rehearsing to eat and imbibe. The pub was The Tollbooth that had plenty of history to go around, not the least of which was the information that it had been haunted for 600 years by the ghost of a guy who was on the lousy end of an exorcism gone wrong. He died that night and hasn’t left. We did not experience his presence.

But that is not all, oh no that is not all. Al, Joe, Jeff and Jeff’s dear friend Kevin all went somewhere and just hung out while the girls went out for a bachelorette party, to which I was invited and was even given a t-shirt with a quote from the movie Mean Girls: “I’m not like those regular moms. I’m a cool mom” or something similar. It’s in the laundry bag so I can’t say for sure. They all had cute t-shirts with some variation of quotes from Mean Girls. We just went to one pub and it was perfect, The Black Cat. There was live music but not too live, we could carry on a conversation. It was comprised of an acoustic guitar and a lovely fiddler, some singing involved but all very Scottish and very low key. I have a new tiny drink to introduce to my mahj group – the Baby Guinness. One shot of Tia Maria Liqueur with a little bit of Bailey’s on top (special secret technique) that makes it look like a little Baby glass of Guinness. That’s all I can bring home from the evening as it was all water and Coke Zero for me except for that. Staid Matriarch and all that rot.

We played He Said She Said. Jeff had already given the answers to the questions and Raina had to guess what his answers were. Think Newlywed Game. It was great fun and I discovered a lot of fun things about the two of them – like the night they realized it was going somewhere was when they walked out of a bar and started two-stepping in the parking lot….They had met bowling and played softball together so this wasn’t your typical “we met in a bar and decided to…” business. It just happened that probably that evening alcohol greased the wheels a bit.

The night didn’t end too late but still. The next day was the wedding and I was the chauffeur for getting most people and their luggage out to the Carlowrie Castle which was the wedding venue and hotel all wrapped up into one.

June 7, 2022

Our journey through the Highlands complete, we make our way down to Edinburgh. Another sunny day accompanies us as we drive through rolling hills and birch and fir lined highways, our days of single lane roads mostly behind us except for the occasional bridge. Some of the roads are even “dual carriageways” meaning two lanes going one way and two going the other! The only trick here is remembering that slower traffic stays left…

Today we were on a mission to find a yarn shop. Due to our newly discovered Siri person helper in our car, we located two along the way. One was in the uber-charming town of Pitolchry. So charming that there were several tour buses there. I think the local distilleries probably had something to do with that as well. We followed Siri through town and before we knew it we were past where the yarn shop was supposed to be and out driving where only the sheep roam. Guess it’s not there anymore, or if it is we couldn’t see it. Back to town where we parked to use the “toilet”. Did I mention that all parking lots that we’ve come across are pay parking lots and all toilets are pay toilets? You can pay for all this with credit and even Apple Pay but honestly coins are handy especially for the toilets.

The next shop was very close to Edinburgh in Dumfermline. We again wandered around searching for yarn with our Siri guiding us and were delighted to pass by something we learned about when we watched an informational show on Scotland before we left – the birthplace of Andrew Carnegie. We were disappointed because we didn’t have time to stop and not because we had yarn to buy – never did find that shop either. I think yarn shops in the outskirts probably did not survive Covid. We had to go because we were meeting the Bride and Groom at the train station in Edinburgh!

We checked into the Hotel du Vin – chosen by Al and what a nice job he did. Right in the middle of the Royal Mile area. Edinburgh is picture postcard beautiful (you won’t believe this – more sunshine). We didn’t quite meet the train but we all (our oldest, Joe, as well) convened just near the station at St Giles Church. Made our way back to the hotel where the bride and I secreted her dress off to our room to hang up. As her parents could not make the trip, I am the surrogate MOB and as a seamstress I am tasked with easing the wrinkles out of the gorgeous dress and veil. That won’t happen until we get to the actual wedding venue – the Carlowrie Castle (I still don’t know how to say it, it always gets garbled in my mouth). She is going to be gorgeous on Thursday.

After we all freshened up we went out to get a pint and then look for a place to grab some food. It was 8:30 p.m. You would have thought it was midnight. Kitchen closed. Kitchen closed. Or – no room for five. Or – great looking menu but you had to order on a restaurant app and they were out of most stuff. Off we went in search of something, anything. The guys educated me to the fact that in any city in the world the falafel/kabob shop will be open til 3 a.m., so never fear. It seemed they had a lot of experience with that…

Finally we landed at Whiski a pub and grill. We had to wait about 20 minutes for a table in the long crowded tavern. We waited and waited and waited for someone to take our order. Decided maybe we had to order at the bar. Nope, someone would be with us. We waited another fifteen minutes (it had been literally 30 minutes by now). A couple of guys were seated next to us (two feet away ) and within 10 minutes had ordered food. OK – so we flagged down the guy who had been running around working his feet off and he took our order. It was another 45 minutes before our food arrived. In the meantime our next door neighbors had gotten their food. Our oldest and I are both Survivor fans and he was the hungriest of all and I told him to just pretend he was on Survivor and was having to watch his competitors who had won the reward challenge.

When the food finally came it was worth waiting for. For Al, a haggis burger. For Joe, Raina and I a steak and potatoes pie (the “pie crust” was a yummy flaky disc on top of beef stew with carrot, potatoes and beautifully seasoned pot roast) and Jeff got the “haggis tower” which was potatoes with haggis on top. I watched anxiously as he took a bit and the verdict was “it’s delicious”. Raina then tried it and before you know it everyone’s haggis-phobia was a foolish memory. I explained that in my now haggis expertise that much like Thanksgiving turkey stuffing, there are as many haggis recipes as there are cooks in Scotland. Some are better than others depending on your palate.

Didn’t think we’d still be there for the live music that began at 10 p.m. but we were- we had just gotten our food when he started and he was not bad at all. One guy playing amp acoustic guitar (is that a thing?) and singing everything from Johnny Cash to Pink Floyd. I did notice that every other night but last night was Scottish folk music but we were happy with Jason. Made me want to start performing again, actually. If I’m ever home long enough to practice now that we are on the road again I may just do that, if nothing else to play piano.

Finally we had to track down the overworked server for our check and we headed home to get some sleep. Early 7 a.m. breakfast and heading to Edinburgh Castle for 9:30 tour.

I was rudely awakened by Al this morning telling me it was time to get up, we had to get going.  That’s what I get for not doing any of the planning.  Our second Loch Ness boat ride was this morning.  We went downstairs for breakfast – I just had my usual yogurt, jam, crunchy whatever, in this case some kind of Scottish crisp and a half cup of the crazy strong Scottish coffee.  (No one ever asks if you want decaf.  As if.)  Al had the “sampler” Scottish breakfast, as opposed to the full, and the haggis chef was not in this morning so no haggis. 

Off we went to meet our boat.  Of course, we knew where we were going – not.  The first dock we stopped at (it’s all run by the same company, in our defense) was the wrong one, but allowed me to get some decent photos of the Highland cows which are too cute for words, with their hair hanging in their eyes like a 60’s Brit band.  The dock we were supposed to be at was about five minutes down the road and my driving skills have improved to the point that we got there in three. 

This one was not a fast one but more like a small ferry, with inside seats and upstairs on deck seats.  We opted for upstairs – I was happily bundled up and love the wind in my face.  The sky was overcast in the morning – what we in California call the “marine layer”.  The boat took us down the Loch and damn it was beautiful.  Then it stopped at Urquhart Castle.  Again, what the heck.  The sky opened up and showered us with sunshine for the hour we were there at the castle.  

I haven’t yet tired of castles, probably because the history is so fascinating.  What strikes me is that the victor (usually the Brits) would destroy as much of the castle as they could, to deter whatever clan king they subdued from trying to cause trouble again.  This castle was particularly beautiful to my eyes and I broke my rule of only taking photos with us in them. How many photos can we take with one or the other of us.  It does help to keep the number of scenery photos down from 1,572 to more like three or four.  People all around me were taking photo after photo after photo and I must say it felt good to know they would be sifting through them all when they got home instead of me. 

This castle on the gorgeous shores of Loch Ness was incredible.  Despite the fact that a previous restoration had consolidated the remaining walls and rooms and in the process eradicated some of the other rooms, thus making it a bit difficult for present day scholars to fully ascertain what went on and how in the life of a castle dweller, it still was fascinating.  It did have a kiln for baking tucked away in a cave, a kitchen where you could see the fire area and what looked like a huge stone table, a prison cell (big nope on those).  Excavated bones tell us that although there were fish in the Loch, the residents preferred meat.  They had also unearthed some HUGE round boulders that were capable of being catapulted over walls at the enemy.  They had a replica of a trebuchet– it was part of a movie set some years ago.  Still cool to think about though, and size of the boulders it was able to heave a great distance. By the time we took the boat back to the dock the grayness had descended upon us again, but no rain and we have no complaints. 

We then found our way to Fort George, which is still an active military base for the Blackwatch Regiment, mostly barracks. (Duh, now I know why it’s called Blackwatch plaid. A seamstress should really know these details).  It’s an impressive group of buildings, built in the 1700’s.  It’s not a highly popular tourist spot and Al had been advised to check it out by a golfing pal. We roamed around for awhile by ourselves and then went back to the visitor center to join the tour group – which was us.  It was delightful as there was the wizened old docent but also a young woman who was the historian.  She was shy at first but then opened up when she started to throw historical details in.  She even joked that at some point the English just ran out of names and started numbering them, calling them all George or whatever.  I KNEW it! 

Anyway, it was George II who started building it but there was apparently discord between the architect (who wanted symmetry and some semblance of beauty) and the military (who wanted it to just house a whole bunch of people).  Therefore, it took twenty years and by then old George died and George the 3 took over – yeah, THAT George III.  It was built after the Jacobites were defeated at Culloden as a military stronghold in order to control the Highlands and is supposedly the largest fortification in all of the UK.  Ironically, it has never been attacked. 

My knowledge of the history and inability to repeat word for word what a guide tells me is failing me.  Because I am again internet challenged this evening and am writing this on Word and can’t google up little details, I’ll have to just move on to the 20^th century.  It is tucked inside a large bay of the North Sea.  A fact that kind of made me inexplicably emotional is that this location is where drills were done to practice for D-Day. The beaches below the cliff are perfect for that purpose.  It just shook me for some reason, imagining that scene: preparation for such a monumental and ultimately successful but devastating campaign.  It would not be the last time today that I would be overwhelmed with emotion with all the war-war-war.   (The guides rolled their eyes as they relayed the truth that the Scots were always involved in some war or another due to their “association” with the UK.)

Did I mention the dog cemetery?  That was part of our special tour and is not open to the general public without a tour.  Most of the rooms of the campus have been renovated to some degree for modern times, but this room is entered through heavy original doors, you walk through the narrow room, maybe 20 feet across, to the other side and through doors that lead out into a courtyard and the bulwark, the beach is very close just beyond – whereas the rest of the fort is elevated above the water, this area is at beach level.  The deal was that the people inside could get out to the boats fast if they had to.  But if the “bad guys” decided to come in through the seaside door, they would be stopped by another door to get into the main part of the base.  Not only that, but in the walls, every few feet on either side were slits through which defenders could shoot at the unwelcome guests.  If you looked into those slits you could also see that they were slanted so that the guns were pointed down into the room and the shooters were shielded. Clever, huh?  The doorway of the seaward door also sported graffiti from bored soldiers from the 1700’s. 

Once outside you see how accessible the beach is, and there on a lovely little hill, is the doggy cemetery. Yes, pooches! The oldest one there is from the time when the Scots were off fighting in Egypt so the stone is shaped like a pyramid.  Various and sundry doggies of previous residents are interred there.  How adorably Scottish is that, really? 

Finally, if we wanted to get to Culloden Battlefield we needed to get scooting.  Again, we were too late for the visitor center because of that crazy daylight, but the battlefield is always open. (It is 9:30 p.m. as I write and the sun is not set yet.  Up in Skye is was 10:30 before it went to sleep and when I went to bed at midnight it was still just past dusk).  This was the second time I was touched by the folly of conflict.  

Culloden has become common knowledge among folks who have watched and read Outlander, and we know it from the perspective of the Jacobites, who wanted to reinstate Bonnie Prince Charlie Stuart as the rightful heir of the throne (as opposed to Mary Queen of Scots and William of Orange). The rebellion against the British government had been going on for awhile, and finally at Culloden the government lined up on one side and the Jacobites on the other.  It did not end well for the Jacobites and effectively ended their cause. The bonnie prince went into exile.

To stand on the Battlefield is sobering indeed.  The sun was partially out for us again but a cold wind swept across the plain. On one side of the battlefield are planted red flags to signify where the government line began, and afar on the other side, blue flags.  It is not hard to imagine what went down between those lines of flags and it all happened in the span of an hour or so.  Along the trail are markers commemorating each clan and how many members they lost and the name of the leader of the clan.  The Jacobites who were killed (upwards of 1500) were buried in mass graves with their clansmen.  It is largely unknown where the government fighters were buried – there were only about 50 of them.   The Jacobites were quite simply outnumbered. 

The Battlefield is a graveyard and it is expected when you visit that you will respect that and in some places even be silent.  It is chilling in its simplicity.  Fight, die, be buried under our feet forever.

And with that, the Jacobite uprising was over and after that the Highlands population was decimated, either by people fleeing for the Americas or elsewhere, or by clan cleansing by the government.  Clan colors were banned, weapons were outlawed, language was discouraged.  The clans lost power and land.  When you are there in the Highlands, such a spiritual place, it is hard to imagine there was once a whole culture there that for all practical purposes, vanished.  

The British government eventually allowed Scottish members of its military to wear their colors in regiments which is why you would recognize some of their uniforms with the kilts and the feathered hats.  The descendants keep the memory alive as best they can with a pride that is evident in the museums they have created.

The Highlands are only now in the last few decades becoming more populated but our young guide informed us that like many places, “brain drain” is a problem and the present government is trying to encourage their bright young people to stay.  There is also some sentiment that it is time to quit “living in the past” but I can’t think of any group that has a history of being “cleansed” ever forgets…and it doesn’t seem like it is in the nature of this delightful people to forget that it was specifically their families who were targeted.  Indeed,

the guide told us that some are beginning to refer to the cleansing as a genocide.  

Tomorrow we leave the Highlands for Edinburgh and the wedding!  Today I walked 14,400 steps and we never did that city walk, so it’s time for bed.

I leave you with this by Scottish poet Robert Burns: Song – farewell to the Highlands

Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North

The birth-place of Valour, the country of Worth;

Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,

The hills of the Highlands for ever I love. 

June 5, 2022

(Late posting because we had no consistent internet for two days.) Also I was able to post a few photos finally on the last couple of blogs so have at it if you want.

Left Isle of Skye on ANOTHER blue sky day – how long can this go on?  We hated to say goodbye to our little trailer bnb amongst the sheep, but reminded ourselves that what we had experienced was a bit of false advertising, weather wise. 

Those of you on facebook saw the video of the cuckoo bird that I heard out of nowhere.  I had heard it the day before but said “nah”.  I don’t think I can post it on this blog because I don’t have “premium” – maybe I’ll pay up. It’s pretty cool, although this morning when it started up again I remembered my old cuckoo clock – I often locked the cuckoo behind his door. Enough already. 

I didn’t believe it so went on line to see if cuckoo birds a) existed at all and b) if they existed in Scotland.  They do and they do.  Also, they are not very nice.   When she wants to lay her egg, the female watches where another bird has built a nest, eats one of the nesting bird’s eggs and replaces it with her own.  It gets worse.  When the cuckoo starts to hatch, with its elbows or knees or whatever boots out the other eggs and if the other eggs are hatched, boots the baby birdies out.  This is the BABY cuckoo we’re talking about.  Then, the original bird thinks it’s her baby and feeds it.  I guess this bamboozled bird probably doesn’t deserve to keep procreating if this is the best she can do, but really, Mrs. Cuckoo.  I just don’t think that’s necessary.  Shut up and build your own nest.

Finally, said a warm goodbye to our wonderful hosts and off we went.  Why am I wishing that everyone I meet in Scotland could live next door to me in San Clemente? 

Not much to say about the driving today – I am driving like a native now and even was able to listen to the radio at the same time.  When we got to Inverness and got lost before we realized that our car map also had voice guidance (sometimes we just feel too dumb to live, ya know?) I didn’t run over any pedestrians or go the wrong way.   I also discovered that Al not only second guesses written maps, he also second guesses the nice map lady – is she Siri here? Don’t know.  We had a chat about that after I had to backtrack and negotiate the tiny streets yet again because he thought that Siri meant to say “no! turn right on that next street” even when she said “turn right NOW”.  I have my own faults.  Let’s just move along now.

Our hotel room for the next two nights is teensy but we will be walking around the city all day tomorrow on a walking tour that Al put together on some website where you plan your own route. I think another Loch Ness boat ride is on the docket. 

A word about the Sondag family descending upon Europe for the upcoming wedding.  It is a small affair – 8 including the bride and groom.  Raina’s parents are unable to travel and Andy and Kelsey (our middle son and daughter-in-law) cannot risk not being able to get back into the USA because of a positive Covid test.  I have been more supportive than many during all this but the fact that a person can’t fly into the USA without a test but COULD fly into Toronto and drive across the border to get home is pretty ridiculous. 

Jeff and Raina arrived in Iceland yesterday.  As they will be honeymooning after the wedding, the Edinburg wedding is just kind of a pit stop for them and for us.  

Our oldest son Joe flew into Frankfurt last weekend and then to Belgium.  He arrived in London unaware that it was the Queen’s Jubilee, and he has shared with us the fun of that unexpected surprise. There were street parties everywhere.  Says he: “The whole country is having a ‘rage’ for a 96 year old queen.  Why not?”  Also, there in Britain it is known as the Platty Joobs, and yes, it’s spelled Joobs.  Gotta love the Brits.  This morning he sent a video from his hotel window of the bells of Yorkminster ringing joyously in honor of Her Majesty.  I am so glad he got to experience that on his first trip to Europe.  It’s ultimately not the scenery or even the old buildings that make travel so worth it – it’s the culture and the people. 

Another full day tomorrow…

The Isle of Skye. It just sounds magical, doesn’t it?

It is.

I again did the driving but no matter, the scenery was all around us and hard to miss. We did a big circle around the whole isle, which rises above the sea and affords magnificent views of the sea, the Scottish Highlands in the distance and islands on either side.

How do I know it has such magnificent views? I know this because somehow, someway, we have been fortunate to have TWO days of almost cloudless skies. This was the two days we really needed that kind of weather for or we would have been experiencing the misty, rainy, mucky side of Scotland. Not today. Blue skies, even bluer water, green hills/mountains, fresh wind from the sea. The topography is similar to that which we’ve seen elsewhere, volcanic origins, glens scoured by glaciers and water, mountains of every shape – conical, flatiron, gradual slopes (I have no clue whether those are actual terms. I’m just a traveler on this planet). Even then in Dunvegan it looked like we were in the southwest of USA with huge mesas – except they were covered in green. Magical indeed. We stopped as often as we could to just take it all in and try to figure out how we went from being kids getting married 40 years ago this month to standing here on the top of the world in Scotland. Everyone should be so lucky and blessed, depending on your viewpoint.

We did a little bit of hiking along the way but because I carried my trekking poles halfway across the world, I decided I might as well leave them at our lodging. We got by but I would have like to have done more, but I know my body. After awhile my back needs those poles!

The roads. Ah, the roads. The Isle has mostly what are called “single track” roads. It means cars cannot pass each other, but there are numerous pullouts along the way on either side of the road. So it’s a game of chicken to see who gets to their pullout first and has to wait for the oncoming car to pass. I was terrified of them because I really didn’t fully understand the concept, but it turns out everyone drives pretty slowly on them. Only once did I screw up, forget I was in Scotland and pulled into the one on the RIGHT side of the road (I’m supposed to be on the left, even on a single track) and pointed to the oncoming guy to pass me on the left, like HE was the idiot. I had to tell our innkeeper this because last night he led us out to the grocery store on a single track and he mentioned it to me and they really got a kick out of it. Anyway I’m getting the hang of driving here and really rather enjoy it. Good for the aging brain to change it up a bit.

I think I’ve been failing to mention sheep everywhere. All of them luscious and ready for someone to shear them and make yarn for me to buy! Every ewe has a couple of little black faced lambs with her and the rams have lovely faces and curly horns. When you are standing on a hillside they are all below and you can hear the baa-ing. More magic. We saw a hilarious scene of a couple of lambs race over to mom – literally it looked like they were saying “I’ll race you to mom!” The first one slammed into mom (enough that she had to stabilize herself )and got to the teat before the other one was halfway there. I bet they were rams-in-training.

Once we came back around we drove out to Dunvegan Castle and Gardens only to find out that we had once again been fooled by the late Scotland sun. It was 6 p.m. and it was closed. No problem, the little town has an ice cream shop so all was well. Al drove back from there. He will not again. It’s ridiculous to have another one of us have to go through the learning curve while another one sits through terror in the passenger seat. I was buzzing along the roads today, I got this….

Tomorrow to Inverness and the north end of Loch Ness. Will get some nice photos for you. We are being pretty serious about staying in the moment and keeping our picture snapping to a minimum and even then mostly having a person in it. I DO think I will have have to buy a Scotland picture book, tho.

Got up ready to roll as we had a reservation for a RIB boat ride on Loch Ness. Unbelievably, there was not a cloud in the sky. We cannot believe our good fortune. It is chilly and windy especially on a fast boat, but it was not all thrill ride and he did make sure to make some quick turns and take us over some wakes of the more sedate tour boats. Our pilot was a long haired, earring sporting, rugged old Scot who stopped frequently to point out eagles and Nessie for the kids, as well as discuss the Loch and Nessie for us adults. The Loch is crazy deep, and in the middle of it runs the Great Glen Fault, which runs the length of the Great Glen itself; the Scots say on one side of the fault lies Canada, on the other side is Norway. I wondered about scuba diving here (not that I would) but apparently because of the high peat content the water has pretty much zero visibility beyond 25 ft. Also, and this is something I wrote down immediately so I wouldn’t forget – the Loch could hold the population of the entire world. Times three.

Now. About Nessie. Here are a few tidbits our guide shared with us. Upwards of 95% of sightings of Nessie are by tourists. (See: numerous distilleries in the Great Glen…). Science has been doing its thing trying to figure out what exactly is happening down there and making some interesting progress. Most importantly, sonar as recently as 2020 HAS identified something about 8 m long and as big around as the pontoons on our boat and definitely alive. Not once but twice now. A little googling reveals that there was sonar before this that never found anything but that sonar was old technology and only reflected the floor of the loch. New sonar can check out the entire water column. Coolio.

According to our guide, there was speculation that maybe it was sturgeon as they can get quite long, but – who knew? – there is very little sturgeon DNA in the Loch. They can check out DNA in water? So much for me throwing Al overboard. Anyway, I guess some fisherman in the ocean waters off Scotland caught a monster eel some time ago and it was about that size. So there is certainly a possibility that in the relatively locked in (sorry, couldn’t resist) environs of such a deep body of water could house a monster eel. Add the fact that the loch is teeming with eel DNA and you start to think… Interesting stuff, huh?

Regardless of the science or the myth, the people here clearly love their Nessie and not just because of the tourist dollars. She’s apparently a mischievous gal judging by the caricatures in souvenirs and paintings. Look closely at the painting Al and I posed in front of and you’ll see her hiding in plain sight. This was taken at a little cafe in Fort Augustus where we started the boat trip. Macaroni and cheese, margherita panini and Al-just-can-resist sweets set us on our way to Skye.

Driving is better today. I only hit a curb once. Oh. And I do feel I must submit a formal apology to everyone who was following me yesterday. It was only this morning that Al and I suddenly realized we were dealing with miles and mph, not kilometers and kph. So yeah, I was definitely holding up traffic on numerous occasions, and maddeningly slow for everyone who was actually trying to reach a destination before July. I feel pretty bad about that and was quite patient with the person in front of me today who also hadn’t quite figured it out yet.

We also stopped at the famous Scottish castle, the Eilean Donan Castle, on the way to Skye. I was tired so just rested on a bench and gazed at this lonely looking castle surrounded by water (where three sea lochs meet) and greenery while Al went in to check it out. I was of course swept off my feet by the lilac bushes in full bloom next to more rhododendrons the size of my head. My sunglasses were swept off my head while I was posing/selfie taking, which doesn’t sound like a big deal but they are my only pair for this trip and are the only ones that fit over my hexagon glasses…fortunately they were waiting for me just under the lilac bush. One more snort of that heady aroma!!!!!

We made it to the Isle of Skye (continued blue sky all the way) with several stops along the way to admire the scenery. Our air bnb is out in the middle of nowhere and we only got lost once, which allowed us to delight another ruddy old Scot who seemed delighted to have yet another tourist to tease on this gravel backroad in sheep country. These people are just the best. There is humor and a gleam in the eye of every single person we’ve encountered. Of course as the consummate flirt I am loving every minute of it. My Mom always said the boys always liked me and I know why – it’s because I am always smiling and ready to tease back with the best of them. These old Scot farts pick right up on that and while poor Al is trying to understand what they’re saying so we can get where we’re going, I’m playing one-up-manship in the clever banter department. I have to say they have been getting the last word in all this but I still win – as I drive away with a big smile smiling at them. Our air bnb is a nice sized trailer on the owner’s property, with Scottish countryside as far as the eye can see. We had to come in off the deck around sunset because the famous “midges” came out. Tiny little gnats that apparently bit like horseflies. It was literally a cloud of them. I expected them to be more mosquito sized. They look so innocuous!

We awakened again to an almost cloudless sky and are relaxing this morning before taking off for a little drive around the isle. I think I’m going to let Al take the wheel today and we’ll see which of us has the more difficult task – me sitting in the death seat while he learns the joys of driving on the left. To be continued?

We woke up to a beautiful morning on Loch Lomond. I haven’t mentioned the weather has been just fine. We compare it to winter in San Francisco which is tolerable at worst and there has been very little rain. We have the occasional cloudburst but generally gorgeous clouds like we never see in SoCal and warming sun at regular intervals.

Our host at Culag, Patrick, greeted us in the breakfast room with this question “Would you like a traditional Scottish breakfast”? But of course. The plate included: one egg, bread of choice, a sausage, beans, a tomato slice, a mushroom, “bacon” (like Canadian) and – you guess it, haggis. This was really really really good haggis. I don’t know how the cook made it but it was delicious. I have decided that descriptions of haggis on the internet are unnecessarily dramatic. If you eat Thanksgiving stuffing with turkey gizzards you can handle haggis. I’m not even willing to brag that I ate it, it was that disappointingly edible.

Off we went and driving was much easier this time. It’s still kind of freaky when a truck comes along on the other side of the road but after a bit it was just like driving at home. We are still using the Al as Navigator sign reader and Mary as the “left lane, left lane, left lane” mantra-er and it’s going quite smoothly. Every once in a blue moon I scrape the curb but honestly don’t know how – obviously or I wouldn’t be doing it. We paid the the extra insurance on the rental so okay. I am also not giving a rat’s ass whether someone is behind me and am driving as slowly as I damn well please. I politely take the turn out when there are more than thirty cars behind me.

The Highlands are just as gorgeous as advertised. Before I forget, there are rhododendrons in full bloom growing like tress everywhere along the roadsides and up the hillsides. I’ve never seen anything like it. Not just in one little section but for miles.

Lots of history in them thar hills, most of it warlike. It’s hard not to just be in love with the people who endure this verdant but harsh land. We have had more than one Scot laugh and tell us “yeah, this is our summer”. They seem to wear it as a badge of honor (a la Minnesotans). We are staying in yet another cottage home in Fort William and for dinner went to the crazy luscious Inverlochy Castle Hotel (it’s not a castle itself, but references nearby Inverlochy Castle, another important – you guess it – battle site in Scottish history.) The dinner was a prix fixe gourmet menu, five courses all amazing. Even the first course was all about beets and many of you reading this know how I feel about beets. (When anyone asks I have food preferences: “Anything but beets”.) At any rate I figured after eating haggis I should be able to handle beets. It was okay – they were sliced extremely thin so I survived. I like haggis better tho.

Before dinner we went out to Glenfinnan Viaduct built in 1897 and is still in use today. To people much hipper than I, it is famous for being in Harry Potter movies. Big whoop. Wikipedia says after those movies they had to warn people not to walk on the viaduct because – get this – they might get hit by a train and some people almost did. I’ve heard that the same type of yahoos also have been stealing stones from Culloden after it was made famous in the Outlander series as the scene of the squashing of the Jacobites by the British. Good lord… I think we will go past it but Al has another castle or something planned around Inverness. Anyway, I know the outcome at Culloden, I’ve watched some of it but it’s world history so I tend to switch back to Mrs. Maisel after a while.

Tomorrow, it’s off to a rib boat ride (that means it’s hella fast, I’m told) on Loch Ness and then what I’m sure will be a quiet and uneventful drive to Isle of Skye. There we will finally stay put for two nights.