It’s impossible for me to recall, now, what preconceived ideas
I had about Scotland prior to my arrival a fortnight ago. I didn’t know much
about it, but I was determined to live in England. For some reason, I had
dismissed Ireland and Scotland early on as candidates. Something about the
cold, the difficult dialect and rumours of “beer pressure” (I’m not very good
at drinking).
This causes a slight disturbance in my plans, because I’ve
kinda sorta fallen in love. My sweetheart is the soft, undulating glens... the
grey lochs... the stratus shrouding the tips of mountains. I may never have
known so many shades of green. Oh, Caledonia!
There is so much to clamour about. I'm not sure where to begin.
A little over a week ago, before the fateful vote, I decided that if I were to see some of the Highlands, I should probably invest and do it in the proper touristy way. I decided to book a three-day tour with MacBackpackers, a youth-geared organization, that would take us up and around the Isle of Skye, making stops for stops like Loch Ness, Culloden and Glen Coe. It was probably twice as expensive as doing it on my own would've been, but as a history-loving liberal arts graduate, it was a no-brainer.
It was the right decision. The landscape is absolutely heart-capturing. Unfortunately, my camera decided to die forever while I was on my way to Edinburgh (die die. It's not battery life. It will never rouse again) so I couldn't take any pictures. Luckily, my fellow backpackers were sympathetic and allowed me to showcase some of their pictures.
Here are some pretty pictures of the trip taken by Wing Ho Chong:
And a couple from fellow Canadian Kassy Pointer:
There is so much to clamour about. I'm not sure where to begin.
A little over a week ago, before the fateful vote, I decided that if I were to see some of the Highlands, I should probably invest and do it in the proper touristy way. I decided to book a three-day tour with MacBackpackers, a youth-geared organization, that would take us up and around the Isle of Skye, making stops for stops like Loch Ness, Culloden and Glen Coe. It was probably twice as expensive as doing it on my own would've been, but as a history-loving liberal arts graduate, it was a no-brainer.
It was the right decision. The landscape is absolutely heart-capturing. Unfortunately, my camera decided to die forever while I was on my way to Edinburgh (die die. It's not battery life. It will never rouse again) so I couldn't take any pictures. Luckily, my fellow backpackers were sympathetic and allowed me to showcase some of their pictures.
Here are some pretty pictures of the trip taken by Wing Ho Chong:
 |
| Glen Coe |
 |
| Climbing up to the Old Man of Storr |
 |
| I don't even know where this was, but the clouds were pretty cool mates. |
 |
| Pretty sure this is in Glen Coe. That's Kassy posing. Darn cuteness! |
 |
| I included this one of me walking in Faerie Glen so you know I ain't lyin' |
Along the way, we were regaled with various bits of Scottish history and folklore which concerned the sights before us. Though I love myths and fairy tales, I think my favourite one was non-fictional: the story of Flora MacDonald and how she helped the Scottish king escape from England's government forces.
Brief backstory: The year was 1746. There had been a long-waging war between the English and Scottish because the English king, who ruled over both countries, was not the legitimate heir to the throne. The true heir had been exiled, and his offspring Prince Charlie was actually born in Rome. However, he led an uprising- a group of Scot rebels known as the Jacobites- to overthrow the illegitimate king.
For a while, it seemed like they had good chances. Unfortunately, Bonnie Prince Charlie was more brawn than brain, and a succession of not-so-smart directives led to the loss of an important battle at Culloden, dispelled the Jacobites and put a heavy price on his head.
He had to escape. Flora, a wealthy Scot's niece living on the Isle of Skye, agreed to help him in his evasion. She hatched a plan.
"You'll have to dress up as a woman," she ordered.
Prince Charlie was appalled. He was a king. A king!
But the English were coming, and they wanted his head. So he donned on of Flora's dresses, and a reddish wig, and lipstick (so the story goes) and embarked with Flora on the ferry to Ireland.
Of course, the English were checking for Charlie on all the outgoing boats, and this one was no exception. After checking Flora's identity, they turned to the disguised Prince.
"Who're you?" they barked.
Panicked, the prince made an unintelligible high-pitched sound.
"Ma'am, we asked you a question."
Again, only a squeaky emission.
Just as the guards were about to seize this mysterious red-headed creature, Flora stepped in.
"She's my maid," she declared. "She's Irish. She's quite dim and she only speaks Gaelic."
Charlie squeaked encouragingly.
And that's how Prince Charlie got out of the English soldiers' grasp and safely to the shores of Ireland. Flora Macdonald was later arrested, but she is remembered for her quick wit in smuggling Charlie, effectively saving his life.
Just one of the great stories I heard on the tour.
Funny things have a tendency of happening to you when you're traveling alone. Especially when you're staying in hostels. The one I stayed at in Edinburgh, called Edinburgh Backpackers, did not at first seem immensely promising. It had something like eight flights of stairs, no real communal area, and mediocre dorms (that I shared with 13 others). When I finally reached my bed on the Sunday night, I was not in the best condition. I'd spent most of the day in a minibus, driving down from Skye, and had had more than my fair share of the bottle of Scotch that had been passed around between us. All I wanted to do was bury my face into my pillow, hibernate and make beluga-like moaning sounds. Preferring not to embarrass myself in such a way in front of 13 strangers, however, I had no choice but to keep it together.
As it turns out, there were a lot of musicians staying in the hotel that night. After playing duets and having tea with a friendly fella who I found in the tiny lounge, I returned to my dorm. It was occupied by an all-male South African choir group, who were heckling a couple of the girls. When they saw my ukulele, they exploded with excitement. "Play something!" they insisted.
For the next hour, my life might have been an outtake of Glee. Whatever I played, they joined in, beatboxing, harmonizing, throwing in doo-ops and making any sound I produced sound like something from a musical. It was surreal.
If you're interested in checking them out, they're called So Soweto Encha and they're really something else.
Anywho, I had a quiet last few days in Glasgow, trying to lay low and not spend too much. Something I really like about Glasgow is that you can set off in any direction and find a park within minutes. I love parks. They're so therapeutic. I also watched some episodes of Friends for the first time (whaaaat? I know).
There's so much more to tell, but all I can say for now is to put Scotland on your travel list. You won't regret it.
Anyway, I'm currently on my 20-hour bus journey from Glasgow to Paris... Meeting a friend and staying in hotel for a few days. My first time out of the UK since June!
And after Paris? I have no plans... We'll just see what happens!
Love to all of you xoxo
"You'll have to dress up as a woman," she ordered.
Prince Charlie was appalled. He was a king. A king!
But the English were coming, and they wanted his head. So he donned on of Flora's dresses, and a reddish wig, and lipstick (so the story goes) and embarked with Flora on the ferry to Ireland.
Of course, the English were checking for Charlie on all the outgoing boats, and this one was no exception. After checking Flora's identity, they turned to the disguised Prince.
"Who're you?" they barked.
Panicked, the prince made an unintelligible high-pitched sound.
"Ma'am, we asked you a question."
Again, only a squeaky emission.
Just as the guards were about to seize this mysterious red-headed creature, Flora stepped in.
"She's my maid," she declared. "She's Irish. She's quite dim and she only speaks Gaelic."
Charlie squeaked encouragingly.
And that's how Prince Charlie got out of the English soldiers' grasp and safely to the shores of Ireland. Flora Macdonald was later arrested, but she is remembered for her quick wit in smuggling Charlie, effectively saving his life.
Just one of the great stories I heard on the tour.
Funny things have a tendency of happening to you when you're traveling alone. Especially when you're staying in hostels. The one I stayed at in Edinburgh, called Edinburgh Backpackers, did not at first seem immensely promising. It had something like eight flights of stairs, no real communal area, and mediocre dorms (that I shared with 13 others). When I finally reached my bed on the Sunday night, I was not in the best condition. I'd spent most of the day in a minibus, driving down from Skye, and had had more than my fair share of the bottle of Scotch that had been passed around between us. All I wanted to do was bury my face into my pillow, hibernate and make beluga-like moaning sounds. Preferring not to embarrass myself in such a way in front of 13 strangers, however, I had no choice but to keep it together.
As it turns out, there were a lot of musicians staying in the hotel that night. After playing duets and having tea with a friendly fella who I found in the tiny lounge, I returned to my dorm. It was occupied by an all-male South African choir group, who were heckling a couple of the girls. When they saw my ukulele, they exploded with excitement. "Play something!" they insisted.
For the next hour, my life might have been an outtake of Glee. Whatever I played, they joined in, beatboxing, harmonizing, throwing in doo-ops and making any sound I produced sound like something from a musical. It was surreal.
If you're interested in checking them out, they're called So Soweto Encha and they're really something else.
Anywho, I had a quiet last few days in Glasgow, trying to lay low and not spend too much. Something I really like about Glasgow is that you can set off in any direction and find a park within minutes. I love parks. They're so therapeutic. I also watched some episodes of Friends for the first time (whaaaat? I know).
There's so much more to tell, but all I can say for now is to put Scotland on your travel list. You won't regret it.
Anyway, I'm currently on my 20-hour bus journey from Glasgow to Paris... Meeting a friend and staying in hotel for a few days. My first time out of the UK since June!
And after Paris? I have no plans... We'll just see what happens!
Love to all of you xoxo
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