Up to Orkney

Travel Date: 02 June 2012

This past weekend was extra long for everyone in the UK as there was a Bank Holiday on Monday and then everyone pretty much got Tuesday off to celebrate Queen Elizabeth II's Diamond Jubilee. Rather than trying to mix in with the crowds of millions in London, I decided to head the other way - North - to the Orkney Islands, an archipelago right off Scotland's northern-most coast. I figured that with extra time, I should go somewhere special that required a wee bit more time to get to, right? It did take a while to get there, in fact.

I could have taken the train or flown, both of which would have been quicker than taking a coach, but the coach was the cheapest option (thank you, MegaBus!). I left on a sunny Saturday morning, riding three and a half hours to get to Inverness, where I was to switch coaches and get on the John O'Groats Express from Inverness to Kirkwall, the capital of the Orkney Islands. The John O'Groats Express was a great option to take: for £52, I was able to get a return ticket that included a coach from Inverness to John O'Groats, a passenger ferry from John O'Groats to Burwick on the island of South Ronaldsay, and another coach from Burwick to Kirkwall...and then all the way back to Inverness. Not a bad deal at all!

So while I was waiting in Inverness for my coach to John O'Groats, I decided to explore a bit since I didn't have the time to do that last month when my friends and I came up for the Brew at the Bog music festival outside of Inverness. It's a quaint little town, but with honestly not a whole lot to do from what I could tell. It was sunny and I walked through the old part of town to the banks of the River Ness where you can take in scenic vantages of the town including a few churches and the little Inverness Castle.

I walked up to the castle to get an idea of the view from up there. The castle is not the original 12th century castle built by Scottish King David I, who founded the Royal Burgh of Inverness after finally winning out against the Mormaer King MacBeth. The castle was fortified and used throughout the clan wars until Prince Charles Edward Stewart (Bonnie Prince Charlie) blew it up during the Jacobite Rebellion. The current structure was built in 1834 as a courthouse and town hall.

After walking around the castle, I went across the street to the free Inverness Museum and Art Gallery which provided me a total history of Scotland from it's orogenic and glaciated geologic background, the northern migration of humans following the retreating ice margin and the Neolithic Era, the development of the Picts, the exploration by the Romans, conquer by the Vikings, then by the Celts, and throw in some Norman conquest, the uniting of Scotland and England after the death of Mary, Queen of Scots, and a little bit of Jacobite Rebellions, the industrial revolution, and voila, you have Scotland. It was truly a great museum, well-organized, with interactive displays where you can listen to phrases spoken in Scottish Gallic (which was fun to play with because there were two young boys who were playing a game, but repeated everything the display said out loud, laughing as they did so). There were also some of the original Pictish carvings of wolves, sea monsters, and other designs.

Time was running short, so I picked up some snacks in the local Poundland and caught my coach up to John O'Groats (JOG). JOG bills itself as the first and the last as it is the farthest north you can get on mainland Scotland, situated right on the coast of the Pentland Firth, one of the most dangerous water-crossings in Scotland due to very fast flowing tidal currents swirling and eddying around and between the numerous islands in the Firth. It took about three hours to get to JOG, passing through very small towns surrounded by cattle and sheep pastures. We didn't have to wait long for the ferry to arrive, but it gave me some time to take in my first glimpses of the cliff-lined Orkney Islands. Soon, I was, myself, on the ferry crossing the dangerous waterway - which, you could really see the water churning, eddying, and flowing over rocky reefs below the water surface as the tides came in and out! The weather was great, the crossing was smooth, and I was really impressed by the captain's knowledge of the waters, taking into account the strong outgoing tides, which we had to sail into and let carry us along to the ferry docks on South Ronaldsay. But we were there, on the islands, loading up into the coach that would take us across a few farm-covered islands to the capital city, Kirkwall.

I was tired, and hungry, and it was nearly 8:30pm and I had the feeling that if I didn't get any food soon, I would miss my opportunities as all the shops in Scotland, especially Orkney, close at 5 and pubs stop serving food at 9. So I checked into my hostel, the Kirkwall Peedie Hostel - a fantastically cozy place with extremely accommodating owners (and at £15/night, you can't go wrong). Julia gave me some pointers on where to get food and then where to find live music in town. I put my things in my room and was off. But not quickly enough. I got to Helgi's, Julia's suggested pub for food but they didn't have any room, so I wandered around the corner to a wee fish and chips shop, run by an old Orcadian couple who were very friendly and got me some hot food just before they closed up shop. I took it back to my hostel where I ate it and planned my weekend. Finally, before going to bed, I decided to walk around Kirkwall a bit and find some live music. I was told to check out Reel, a coffee shop that turns into a pub/live music venue on certain nights of the week. Sure enough, right next to St. Magnus' Cathedral, I heard the sounds of fiddles, a piano, an accordion, singing, and guitars coming out of Reel. It was packed, but I bought some local Orkney Brewery brews, found a place to stand, and enjoyed the local jam session for a few hours.

Exhausted, I headed back to the Peedie Hostel, got ready for bed, and crashed as soon as my head hit my pillow.

Up to Orkney, a set on Flickr.

New Lanark & the Tenement House

New Lanark
Date: 20 May 2012

New Lanark, just about 40 minutes southeast of Glasgow (by car) is a UNESCO World Heritage Site commemorating Robert Owen, who provided hundreds of his cotton mill workers with decent living accommodations, free health care, free education and night classes, affordable food, no child labor or corporal punishment, and this was all in 1825 when he took over ownership of the mill from his father-in-law! (To put that in perspective, the United States didn't pass its first child-labor laws until 1916, has some of the highest education costs, no universal health care, and the cheap food is always the worst quality.)

It was Sunday morning and my friend Euan texted me to see if I wanted to take the drive out there. It was sunny, and I figured it was better than reading for Uni at home. You park up above the River Clyde valley and walk down a path into the mill and village below. The buildings are beautifully built, carved out of the ever noticeable sandstone that pervades Glasgow architecture, and many of the buildings are still lived in! Part of the mill burned down, but blueprints were found and it was reconstructed and now houses a fancy hotel in one of the most picturesque bits of Scotland I've seen (I mean, it's no highlands, but still beautiful). It actually reminded me a lot of Vermont and parts of the Winooski River valley.

We weren't planning on spending too much time at the site. Euan had been a few times before since he grew up nearby, and since it cost £8.50 to get into the Visitor Center and museum, I thought I'd wait until next time when the weather would likely not be as nice. So we walked around the grounds and the mills, past the gigantic waterwheel which ran the mill, the mill race that turned the wheel, the mill dam which fed the mill race with water, and then took a wee hike upstream along the river.

The land surrounding New Lanark is densely wooded, but there are plenty of trails for visitors to explore including one that goes up to a hydroelectric dam that Scottish Power uses for clean, green energy. Along the way, though, we passed Cora Linn, a beautiful cascade of waterfalls, as well as a second series of falls a little farther upstream. In recent geological history (we're talking 10,000 years ago!) this part of Scotland was covered by an ice sheet, or glaciers coming down off the highlands. The massive amounts of ice acted as a dam in the river valley, causing a glacial meltwater lake to form. Eventually, this dam burst, as so many of them do (thank you Vermont Geology!), sending water down the river valley and over cliffs. Since then, the falls have eroded back up the valley a bit such that the water flows over a series of smaller knickpoints rather than over one giant cliff.

Overall, we probably spent a little over two hours at the site, but since we didn't pay for anything, I didn't mind not being there longer, but I will go back at some point to learn more of the Mill's history.


The Tenement House
Date: 26 May 2012

Saturday was yet another beautiful day in Glasgow and as the afternoon wore on, I decided to head to a tiny museum in town that I've heard so much about called the Tenement House (part of the National Trust for Scotland). They don't allow the taking of photographs, so I'll do my best to describe bits of the house. Its premise is pretty simple: a woman by the name of Mrs. Toward, owned the property from the 1890s through at least 1960 (sorry, I didn't catch exact dates!). Mrs. Toward was a seamstress who disliked change and lived by herself, so after her death the flat was considered to be in spectacular period condition, much as it was in the 1890s, apart from the new-fangled electric lights which Mrs. Toward had installed in 1960!

The development of housing in Glasgow's history really shaped it into its present state, and many museums around the city spend some amount of time on the subject (like at the Peoples' Palace on Glasgow Green). Tenement housing was Glasgow's response to a quickly growing population in the 1800s as millions of people moved here to take on work in mills, factories, and other industries. With such a large population living in squalid conditions, public health took a turn for the worst. In the US, we tend to think of Tenements as slums and housing of poor conditions, which, frankly, they did here in Scotland as well. But in the later 1800s the city council of Glasgow decided to take charge of these terrible housing slums by demolishing them and then building new blocks of stone buildings in which an entry way (a close) leads to 3-5 floors of houses, each floor having three doors off of a landing. Essentially, Tenements in Glasgow are like Boston Brownstone houses; however, instead of individual, multi-level, houses being built next to each other, the houses are one level (which is why I live in a flat and not an apartment), and stacked on top of each other.

The newer tenements were a step above the older slums, but since there were public spaces, shared by all tenants - such as the close, the stairs, the back yard - strict rules were enforced regarding their cleanliness. If your close was not kept clean, everyone living off of it would be fined, for example.

Mrs. Toward's flat was simple, with four rooms: a bathroom, kitchen, dining/family room, and a bedroom, all leading off of the entry way. Everything in the flat is as much as it would have been when Mrs. Toward lived there and most of the belongings are hers. It's a very neat place to go to see an old, coal-fired range which was never updated, a deep laundry tub with a mangle attached to it, an old fireplace and wood-carved mantle with knick-knacks that reminded me of my grandparents' houses, and large closets in which a mattress was placed. The dining/living room was rarely used except on special occasions. When I asked why, I was told that the door usually remained shut otherwise soot from all of the coal burning, both inside the flat and literally all over Glasgow, would ruin the nice furnishings. But I imagine it must have been used somewhat as one of Mrs. Toward's sewing machines, a piano, and one of the bed-closests were in there.

Otherwise, everything else in the flat was fairly sparse and used-looking. But why shouldn't it be? People weren't able to go out and buy something new when theirs broke, so they had to fix it, or figure out a way to get the job done without it! Everything in the house had a purpose like kitchen utensils, or toiletries, or medicines, or cleaning agents. The only real personal effects I noticed were some paintings and the knick-knacks in the living room with a nice set of china, used only for special occasions, I presume. You just didn't have the money to be filling your house with useless clutter!

It's too bad they didn't allow photos inside, the Tenement House, because I know I didn't do it justice! I was able to snag some photos of plaques placed in the close leading up to the house, just to prove I was actually there!

Some Camping and a Music Festival

Trip Dates: 4-7 May 2012

I've put off writing this blog post for far too long! But I've honestly felt a little fatigued at writing every little detail that happens or every piece of information I pick up when I go somewhere. Luckily, this excursion out from Glasgow was not prompted by any want to see a historical landmark or any type of natural landscape or wildlife. The date was May 4, and that evening my friends and I found ourselves freezing outside of Inverness, Scotland, huddled around a small disposable BBQ grill in a wee snow storm while camping in a cow pasture.

A few weeks ago, my friend, Penne, turned 30 and wanted to do nothing more than celebrate it with friends from our office at a music festival in northern Scotland. There were eight of us who went to the inaugural Brew at the Bog music festival, sponsored by the Glasgow-based Brew Dog Brewery at Bogbain Farm outside of Inverness. The festival was only a one-day event, but anyone attending could go up the night before and camp out as well as the night after the festival.

Other than the Muskegon Summer Celebration, which I don't really think counts as a music festival, I'd never been to a festival before and was well excited! So after some cake and early-morning catch-up work in the office, we loaded our camping equipment, sleeping bags, backpacks, and my little suitcase (I was flying back to the US for my sister's wedding immediately afterward) into a taxi cab that took us down to the bus station where we quickly loaded our things on and sat down. Two buses were going the same direction, but they overpacked one of the buses leaving a very old man and his wife seatless, but the driver took off regardless. Penne's boyfriend Adam shouted down the driver while Penne and someone else gave up their seats so the old couple (who were protesting that they'd be fine standing for the hour-and-a-half-long bus ride!) could have a seat. Eventually the two buses pulled over and Adam switched to the other bus which was half-empty. CityLink Buses, you lose this round.

A few hours later, after driving through a beautiful glacially sculpted landscape of the Cairngorms National Park, we arrived in Inverness and headed to the grocery store to buy our supplies: hamburgers, sausages, buns, crisps, BBQs, peppers, and alcohol - lots and lots of cider and beer! Oh, and we bought a handful of child-sized camping chairs designed to look like animals, because...well, why not? Beats sitting on the ground! We hailed a cab out to the farm where maybe 10 other tents were set up. Our tents went up in a jiffy and soon were sharing food, keeping warm, and watching the beautiful sunset over the mountains to the north of Inverness.

But then the weather kicked in, and being on an unprotected hilltop right next to the ocean in early-May was apparently not the best place to be. The wind was frigid and the owner of the farm came out to let us know that she opened on of the rooms in the farmhouse so that we could stay warm for a while longer. Some campers went in immediately while many of us stayed out thinking we might eventually warm up. Eventually never came around and we soon found ourselves warming up with some beers inside with everyone else while some of the artists who were performing the next day put on a little preview for us. Everyone was in good spirits, but we were soon asked to leave so they could prepare the room for the next day and all of the campers were sent back to their tents. Determined to stay warm, a large bonfire was built and everyone all gathered around it to keep warm and talk to each other. The crowd dwindled as the night went on as people went back to their tents and fell asleep.

Early the next morning (Saturday) everyone was feeling well good and preparing for the festival which started at noon. The farm had a grassy yard out back where the Main Stage was set up and then inside a stone barn a smaller stage was set up under strings of colored lights, and a third performance space for the acoustic artists was in an adjacent room. Three stages, one small area, 12 hours of music, delicious craft beer. It really couldn't get any better. Two more friends of ours, Fiona and Carl, showed up and we all spent the rest of the day wandering between the different stages, talking to friendly people, dancing (well, I danced), eating, and imbibing Brew Dog. Of course, in true Scotland form, the weather also changed as quickly as the acts did. Bright and sunny one minute, snowing the next, sunny again, rainy, sunny. But the music was fantastic! Other than Brew Dog there were no other sponsors and since most of the acts were local (sans a fantastic Bluegrass band called, Woody Pines, out of North Carolina) the festival really had a Scottish feel to it. There was an eclectic mix of acoustic, rock, Scottish rap, and folk music, amongst others. I really wish I could recommend some artists for you, but to be honest...I was terrible at putting together the name of the band with what I heard in my memory. That will have to wait until later!

The night ended with a band called, Washington Irving, and the festival couldn't have ended on a higher note. No one was out of control, but everyone by that time was dancing and singing and just enjoying life! But the night wasn't over when the music stopped. Those of us camping that night, and there were many more who joined us, went back to the cow pasture, and someone lit a bonfire in a big metal rubbish bin and the night continued like the previous night with laughter, singing, more drinking, and general merriment until people slipped away to their tents.

Sunday morning was rough for everyone what with all the mixtures of beer, cider, and liquor people had the day before, but through the cold, people perked up once they got up and one of the vendors from the festival was nice enough to stick around one more day to make bacon, egg, and cheese rolls, coffee, oatmeal, and juice to anyone who wanted it. They were a God-send! So throughout the morning, we all sat around in what seats were left (turns out, we are all a little too big to be sitting in children's camping chairs) chatted some more, sang Penne "Happy Birthday" and enjoyed the morning.


Our friends Fiona and Carl drove in from Aberdeen, and since I was flying out from Aberdeen to London Heathrow that night, I packed all my things into their car and headed back to the city with them. We had the option of going the longer more scenic way or the faster more boring way. I didn't really feel I had a choice: the longer, more scenic way we went! The road took us through the small touristy town of Aviemore which is sort of like base camp for the few ski resorts out that way. But then our road left civilization all together as we drove past the town of Nethy Bridge where a local Highlands Games were going on and into Caringorms National Park.

The park is desolate with incredibly few roads going through it, and we took the one that goes right through the center winding our way around gently sloping granite domes, hairpinning down into creek valleys and back up out of them, in a land of no trees and patches of burned heather that create interesting geometric patterns, scrapes, and blotches on the hillsides. A photograph in the Aberdeen Airport says that farmers will burn the heather for agriculture and sport. What sport that is, I'm not sure!

As we came back into civilization, we stopped in the little town of Ballater for some ice cream and to stretch our legs. Cute little town, one that people from Aberdeen might retire to. It's also the next town down the road from Balmoral Castle, where the Royal Family retreats for a few weeks in the summer, so some of the shops and stores in Ballater are the official bakers or craftsmen for the Royal Family and honored so by a plaque/crest that hangs outside their shops saying how awesome they are!

Farther along the road, toward Aberdeen, we made one more stop at Crathes Castle, just outside of Banchory which isn't so much a castle as it is a beautiful estate house with an amazing garden. The property is owned by the National Trust for Scotland so parts of it you had to pay to get in to, such as the house. We weren't interested in paying to get in, and I wanted to do some laundry and eat before my plane departed, so we drove on to Aberdeen.

Aberdeen is a great little city, from what I could tell. It's built up nowadays around the oil and gas industry of the North Sea, but earlier had been an important part of the Slave Trade triangle and the tobacco industry of the US, so there are a lot of massive, impressive houses there. The city looks gray and angularly utilitarian, but it's only because the buildings are mostly made out of granite which is more difficult to shape than softer rocks like sandstone or limestone; therefore, it's more geometric. But the streets are lined with trees and it just feels more open. I'm looking forward to a time when I can go back and experience more of it, but this wasn't it. We got to Fiona and Carl's, I took a shower while they threw my dirty clothes into the laundry, and we had a pizza for dinner. But that was it as I immediately packed up again and Fiona took me to the Aberdeen (Dyce) Airport - which pretty much uses oil company billboard ads as wallpaper! - and I was soon on my way back to Michigan for my sister's wedding! But first, I had to get through Heathrow...

BrewBog, a set on Flickr.

Glasgow Rocks Pro-basketball

While I didn't have to travel far to see any pro-basketball in Glasgow, it was a special event, nonetheless. A few of my officemates and I decided to pick up tickets to the last Glasgow Rocks game of the championship season at the Kelvinhall International Sports Arena. I knew, going into this, that it was not going to be anything like going to an NBA game in the States. The BBL (British Basketball League) has about 13 teams that seem to range in size, popularity, and skill level. The Rocks were placed 5th in the BBL going into this game, playing against the Durham Wildcats (ranked last...) so at least we could rest assured that we weren't going to see an upset.

Even though the arena was small (only eight rows of seats along one side of the court and behind both hoops), it was nearly packed, though I should mention was packed with lots of younger kids, most of whom were pre-teen boys excited to watch the Rockettes, Glasgow's 5-person team of bleach-blond, spray-tanned cheerleaders. Admittedly, they were fun to watch. You could tell they were having fun doing what they were doing, but I'll have to say they were a bit less committed to their booty-shaking choreography than, say, their busty and bootylicious NBA counterparts.

I've watched a lot of basketball growing up, though I have to be honest and say that I've....well, I've kind of forgotten a lot about the game. Mostly the penalties and fouls...don't really remember how those all work. But I wansn't out of place as most of the Glaswegians didn't know, either. The small arena was loud during a good play or a score, but during the rest of gameplay, you could have heard a pin drop! The Rocks played well, though definitely a bit more sloppy than the NBA skill-level. Interestingly, though, three or four players for The Rocks were American, and I'm willing to bet that they may be signed on to a NBA team in some fashion, but are playing overseas to gain experience and to maintain their abilities. With 7-minute quarters, the game went by quickly, but it was a good time. The Rocks are now qualified for the Playoffs, and, based on what I saw last night, will likely give a good showing.

I would definitely suggest going to a game if you've got an hour or two and you're looking for something different to do around Glasgow!

Glasgow Daytrip: Culzean Castle

Trip Date: 21 April 2012


Not having a car in Glasgow is really liberating. I don't have to find parking spaces, don't have to worry about theft or vandalism, and don't need to worry about insurance or anything like that. What is frustrating is that on the weekends, if I want to take a trip somewhere, I'm somewhat limited by wherever the train goes (granted, the trains go to a million different places, but not to every site to see in the country). I could always rent one; it wouldn't be too difficult. But I hate to say that just haven't put in the effort to doing that. I should. It will help me learn to drive on the left side of the road both here and while doing fieldwork in Australia, but I just haven't.

What I did take the effort to do yesterday, though, was to get out of the city and do a little sightseeing. I really wanted to go out and visit some of the Islands or the Highlands, but being train- and time-limited (I woke up at half ten...) I decided for something closer. An officemate of mine mentioned before I left that a neat place to visit is Culzean Castle (pronounced kil-ane), about 50 miles south of Glasgow.

Getting there was a little bit of a trip in and of itself. The train left from Glasgow's Central Station in the city center, so I took the subway downtown and then walked over to the station from there (sidenote: Glasgow really should consider running a spur subway track from either Buchanan Street or St. Enoch stations to Glasgow Central...). I bought a ticket to the coastal town of Ayr, about an hour's ride away.

I was surprised by how many people were going to Ayr yesterday. I've taken the train before and it's never been as packed as it was. And not just packed with regular people, but packed with loads of highly make-uped women in fancy dresses and silly wide-brimmed hats and men in sharp suits with snazzy, shiny pointed-shoes. I asked the man sitting next to me if there was a holiday or something going on that weekend and he mentioned that the Grand National horse race (a two-day, multi-event, festivity considered to be the best of its type) was being held at the race course in Ayr. Mystery solved. Looking at my phone, I found out that tickets to the race were only £19, but I decided to go with my original plan since I was definitely not dressed for such a fancy event!

Once in Ayr, I walked a few blocks from the train station to the bus station (note: the personnel at the train station do not know where the bus station is), which is not altogether easy to find from the train station. But I got there and about ten minutes later, I boarded the bus, and was off for Culzean Castle.

I was worried that the weather was not going to be nice for the trip, hence my late morning-rise and hesitation about going on the trip in the first place, but the skies cleared up for most of the day so that I was warm wearing my sweater and button-up shirt. From the bus stop at Culzean, you walk about 20 minutes to get to the Visitor Center which is housed in a ring of former farm storage sheds (I use the term sheds lightly here). Like all Visitor Centers, this was no different with the obligatory cafe, gift shop, toy shop, and toilets, but they also have a 20-minute video presentation that I never did see...oops.

From the VC it's a ten-minute walk to the castle, which was designed by Robert Adam for David Kennedy, the 10th Earl of Cassillis, who provided Adam with the funds to turn what was just an old medieval tower house into an architectural masterpiece, considered to be Adams's best. While the house and lands remained in the Kennedy family since it was built in 1793, they were donated to the National Trust for Scotland in 1945 so that the Kennedy family could avoid Scotland's (UK's?) inheritance tax, which is imposed on any property or possessions handed down to an heir after the owner's death. Often, with large estates such as Culzean, the tax can diminish the heir's inheritance significantly and if the heir doesn't have their own business or other means to pay the tax, they may not be able to afford their inheritance and thus the estate may be sold to the National Trust to be accessible to the public. Such was the case with Culzean, although, the family did stipulate that the third floor of the house be available to President Eisenhower in recognition of his efforts during World War II. The President did use the apartment numerous times during and after his presidency, but now the apartment is available to be rented out to anyone wanting to spend a night in the Castle!

Walking up to the castle, you enter through a ruined archway and over a viaduct designed by Robert Adams to give the feeling to any visitors that the castle was seemingly floating over the landscape. The views of the castle from the ruined archway and the viaduct are fantastic and you get views of the palatial gardens behind the house. The castle is positioned right on top of a cliff and the cliff edge is lined by a balustrade and observation deck looking out to the Isle of Arran across the Firth of Clyde. Off the driveway, opposite of the castle, is a stables building with a beautiful clock tower (which I didn't go in, and now I'm not sure why). You have to pay to get into the Castle separately from what you pay to get in to the grounds, and I just didn't want to put down those few extra £££s, but I will do that next time because the inside is supposed to be fantastic. I just didn't really have the time to explore the grounds and the castle since I arrived at 1:30 and the last bus back to Ayr left the main road at 5:00.

But I walked around the perfectly manicured gardens, across spacious lawns and eventually went down to the beaches below the cliffs where there is an older boathouse and another small manor which I'm not sure what it was used for initially, but now houses an environmental education center. Most of the grounds at Culzean are covered in woodlands with many paths and walks to explore, so I followed the coastal path up above the rocky shoreline for a ways until it popped me back out at the western end of the estate at the Swan Pond which has been a feature of the estate since it's beginnings. Overlooking the pond from a hill is a Pagoda which used to be common on estate grounds of the day and the Kennedy family used their to house exotic animals such as monkeys and likely also housed large birds like swans. You can still see all the cages of the Pagoda, which was restored back in the '60s, but not much else up there.

The Swan Pond itself is much more interesting. There is a little ice cream parlor in what used to be the living room of another little summer cottage on the estate, which also was where the family kept their chickens and other poultry. Lining the edge of the pond near the ice cream parlor is a little walkway and balustrade where you can sit, people-watch, and enjoy the antics of dozens of ducks, swans, a few gannets and herons, and other birds.

And today was no exception. I noticed a lot of the mallards acting strangely as they'd quickly dive under the water and kind of burst back out, splashing water everywhere, kind of rearing up and stretching out their wings. They were all doing it, but I couldn't figure out why until I saw a female duck enter the water only to be propositioned by four mallards, competing to win the affections of the female duck. Welcome to ducky mating season! The ducks kind of have a nice life at the Swan Pond and on a wee island about 10 feet from the edge of the pond, the ducks even have an architecturally elegant, octagonal, 24-coop duck house. But antics like these are not without their dangers. A man and his wife were there with their dog and was letting the dog off the leash. It was cute at first when the dog charged into the water sending all the ducks flying in different directions, but it soon became apparent that the owners had no control over their dog. Millie (the dog) was chasing ducks in all different directions and unfortunately chased a mother duck who had about ten ducklings in toe. Of course the ducklings couldn't yet fly and they tried desperately to scatter away from the dog. Waiting nearby, on the edges of the pond, were some seagulls. I'm not talking little squakers from the beach, but big, brutes. Well, one of the seagulls, apparently fed up with eating garbage and bread crumbs from children, took advantage of the disarray, swooped in, and picked up one of the disoriented ducklings and carried him off. Remember, there are children around the pond watching all of this and other people are remarking on how the seagull just snatched up a baby duck. By this point, the owner of the dog is shouting for her to come back, "Millie! Millie! Get back here!!" and his wife is trying to get the dog back as well, but less aggressively, "Come here, Millie," in a singsongy voice. The dog just kind of looks a them and continues his chase. Now, however, parents of the children, annoyed at the spectacle and lack of control the man had over his dog, are now suggesting out loud that the man go into the pond to get his dog. Another parent admonishes the owner for allowing his dog to disrupt a pleasant afternoon and getting a baby duck killed. And so on. Eventually Millie returns to her owners, and they put her on the leash and call her a bad girl, walking away from the pond to leers and jeers from on-lookers. Even then, once the dog was gone, people were still watching the seagull, who now was occupying some space near a log, thrashing the dead duckling by its neck. I looked around for the other nine ducklings but only saw one swimming around. I'm hoping that the others found safety in the coops on the island, but I'm not convinced.

So with that, I decided to leave the Swan Pond and made my way back to the main Castle and set out to find the walled gardens. These gardens are quite extensive, though there is a lot of space between rows of flowers and trees. It would be a nice place to relax and walk around, but by this time, the weather started to turn nasty and rain was coming down. I waited a while in the vinery before sloughing back through the rain to take a few photos at the Deer Park and then back to the Visitor Center where I got a plastic bag to wrap my camera in and then headed back out to the main road to wait for the bus back to Ayr (which almost didn't happen as the bus just sped passed the bus stop even though there were five of us in there, making us run out to catch the bus, which did stop but was pulled off the side of the road well away from the stop).

It was a nice day, overall, and it was nice to use the train and bus systems once more to get out of Glasgow. I'd definitely go back as there are a few things I missed out on such as the tour of the Castle, fortified caves below the castle (off-limits to visitors except on rare ranger-led guides), and a series of gates in a random, wooded corner of the estate. But I think my next excursion out of town will have to be to the islands or the highlands as I have yet to experience them.

Arthur's Seat in Holyrood Park, Edinburgh

31 March 2012

A week ago, as the last days of nice weather were coming to a close in Scotland, I was getting really anxious and just needed to get out of town and be outside doing something. I looked into taking a 5 hour train ride out to the town of Mallaig, an industrial fishing town that also serves as the gateway to the Inner Hebrides. Even though the train ride is rated as one of the most beautiful train rides in the world, and even though the ride brings you over the famous viaduct used in the second Harry Potter film, I decided I would leave that for another weekend when I had people to go with. That, and poor planning on my part just made it near impossible.

Instead, I decided on Saturday morning to head over to Edinburgh and hike Arthur's Seat, the top of a mini-mountain right in the center of town. The mountain, situated in Holyrood Park, is not terribly tall (see the photos for scale), but it is the eroded and weathered center of an old volcano. Originally used as the hunting grounds for the Royal Family while they stayed at their official residence in Edinburgh, Holyrood House, the park is now open to the public and on nice days is teeming with people taking walks below the craigs, along the lochs, and all over the grassy fields.

My train left around noon, but I got to the Glasgow City Center with some time to pick up a guide book or two on Scotland, and then a bit later, I got into Edinburgh's Waverly Station around half-one. Armed with my camera and sandwiches in my hiking backpack, I made my way down Edinburgh's High Street, past Holyrood House, and the new (and fairly unremarkable) parliament building, to the entrance to the park.

The weather couldn't have been nicer. The sky was blue with only a few clouds and a warm breeze in the air. And everyone was out. I'm not entirely sure how packed Holyrood Park usually is on a nice day, but it was almost impossible to not constantly be passing people. There are plenty of walks in the Park that are fairly easy to do, but most of the established trails have some pretty steep sections over rough ground. The up-side to that, though, is that it didn't take long before I was up above the city skyline with beautiful views of the city and the Firth of Forth (the ocean inlet alongside which Edinburgh is built).

The Park was beautiful, too. bright yellow flowers were in bloom and birds of all sorts were chirping or singing or cooing while rabbits hopped in and out of the bushes. While there are designated trails in the Park, people just kind of have free reign over where they want to walk, and it was really fun watching the singular person walking along the top of cliffs, or the guy playing catch with his dog in the grassy top of another hill, or the kids running around the little lochs in the park.

Since I had all day, I took my time and walked everywhere I wanted to go, but eventually, I made my way up to the top of Arthur's Seat where I found a nice little seat of my own in the rocks and had my peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Throughout the hike, every now and then, and while I was eating lunch, I'd catch a tune being played on some bagpipes somewhere, carried on the wind. It was very faint and I couldn't tell where it was coming from, but it only added to my surroundings: I was definitely in Scotland! With this as my view from Arthur's Seat, I didn't think it could get any better:

Edinburgh from Arthur's Seat in Holyrood Park. Edinburgh Castle is seen to the left of the photo with the old town lining High Street down to Holyhead House and Holyhead Abbey at the bottom right of the photo. Even in the distance, you can see the world-famous Fourth Bridge over the Firth of Forth, a bridge that once held the record for the the longest single-cantilevered bridge in the world. Holyrood Park is in the foreground of the photo while Regents Park is seen just right of center.

It was probably around 4:30pm when I started heading down from Arthur's Seat and walked through the rest of the park. I noticed a blister forming on my foot, and so I wanted to get off my feet pretty quickly. I made my way back up High Street all the way up to the gates of the Castle (a place I still have yet to visit), but I wanted to see some familiar sights from when I was last in Edinburgh, with my high school choir's tour of the British Isles in 2002. On that trip, we stayed in dorms at the University of Edinburgh (which I saw from Holyrood Park) and performed a concert in St. Giles Cathedral, right on High Street. It was really neat to see those places again and even though it was ten years ago since I was on that trip, it seemed like yesterday that we were getting our nighttime ghost tour of Edinburgh and tour down to the depths of Mary Kings Close, where victims of the plague were locked up in a dark and dingy dungeon-like room, well beneath the streets above.

My foot was kind of bothering me, and I didn't want to do too much more walking, so I started to head back to the train station. I was hungry, though, and while I was walking down a narrow set of stairs, I noticed a very small little pub in the alley (the Halfway House, which was Edinburgh's Pub of the Year in 2009) and since only two or three people were inside, I decided to stay a bit longer and enjoy sitting over a pint or two. But it was eventually time to go, and I got back on the train with plenty of time to spare in the day, and actually arrived back at my flat in Glasgow no later than 8:30. So it wasn't really that long of a day, but I was successful in getting my outdoor walk, my day-trip out of Glasgow, and a little more sightseeing and city-exploring!

Glasgow's Spring Thaw

Rain is falling once more in Glasgow as I write this short post and cringe at the impending 10cm of snow we might get tomorrow. This past week, and two weekends, though, we've seen what I've been told is abnormally warm weather for a Glasgow spring. We had nine days straight of sunny days. It was amazing. Flowers and trees were in bloom, and everyone in Glasgow was out in any patch of green space they could find to lay out and get their yearly dose of Vitamin D. People were out running, biking, walking their dogs, and eating and drinking out at little cafes everywhere around town. I even got to wear shorts!

Last week, there were a few days were the British Isles were nearly completely cloud-free! (very rare!)

Because I am in both my brother's and my sister's summer weddings, I had to get measured for a tuxedo somewhere in town. Last Saturday, I took the subway to the City Center and got measured at a huge men's clothing store where there were probably about 30 men helping others get measured and fitted properly. In the corner were I was getting measured, there were a bunch of kilts on the walls and a few guys being measured for those. I'm not going to lie, I want one. I don't care if I only wear it for sporting events and formal occasions, but I want one! And it's time to dispel the portrayal of men in kilts as men in skirts or dresses. NEVER IN YOUR LIFE walk up to a Scottish man in a kilt and say something about his skirt. You will not live to see another day (especially if it's at a rugby match)!

I spent the rest of that Saturday walking around the City Center, meandering up and down streets I hadn't been to before and scouted out lots of neat stores, cafes, restaurants, clubs, pubs, and markets I plan on exploring more in the future. Instead of taking the subway back home, I took advantage of the weather and took the footpath along the River Clyde all the way back to Partick.

Throughout the rest of the week, I couldn't not be outside. I ran 8km last Monday to burn off some steam from an unproductive Sunday through the Botanic Gardens, along the River Kelvin, and through the Kelvingrove Park where I'm sure I passed at least 2,000 people out enjoying the sun. On the run, I also passed a pub called, The Big Blue, that was perched up on a bank over the River Kelvin, next to a beautiful bridge, and had a few picnic tables and chairs along the footpath. Definitely was going to check that out later in the week.

Tuesday afternoon, one of the postdocs invited people over to her flat where she had a grill and large patio and a number of us enjoyed a fantastic barbeque with burgers, beer, wine, crisps, chips, salad, and the best desert ever: chocolate-stuffed, grilled bananas (see photo below). They were delicious and it was suggested that I try these out on a beach in a fire-pit. A must-do for this summer in Muskegon!

The next afternoon, though not the warmest of the week, was so nice, I wore my shorts and flip-flops. I couldn't stand being stuck inside, so I left work around 4 and headed to The Big Blue, got a beer and a table and did a bit of reading work out along the river. On the way home, I was also determined to check out another beer garden in this church-turned-restaurant/pub/theater. It was fantastic.

And then on Friday, after work, a few of my friends and I went to the pub next to our building to enjoy what might be the last bit of sun for a while. Pints in hand, they helped me decide to go outside and do something nice on Saturday, which I did, in Edinburgh. And I'll write about that tomorrow :)

Jupiter and Venus align over Glasgow

I was walking home at dusk the other day on an unseasonably warm night and a few bright lights in the sky caught my eye. I heard through the grapevine that some planets were getting ready to line up, but I wasn't sure which, though I was pretty sure that's what I was looking at. The night sky was a deep blue color and you could still see the fringes of daylight setting behind a thick front of clouds moving toward the city.

My friend, Sara, who lives in Saskatoon, has been taking a lot of awesome nighttime photos in northern Canada and inspired me to grab my camera as soon as I got home and try to take some good photos of the conjunction of Jupiter and Venus (as I later learned that's what I was looking at).

Around the block from my flat is a little park that I thought would be a perfect place to take some photos. It was, except for the fact that even this late in the evening lots of kids were playing on the playground equipment and I'm sure some of the parents were wondering what this guy (me) was doing with a nice camera at a childrens' playground was doing. A little self-conscious about my photos and not wanting to draw undue attention to myself, I made sure to be focusing my lens up at the sky!

Anyway, here are the few photos that actually turned out somewhat nice. I definitely need to invest in a tripod, though, as the rest of the photos I took were pretty much just a bunch of squiggles in the sky. I'm hoping that we'll get another solar storm in the near future, in which case, I will try and get to northern Scotland and maybe glimpse some aurora borealis!

The Biggest Pizza in Belfast

Trip Date: 18 March 2012

Considering the day we had the day before, it's no wonder Rebecca and I didn't crawl out of our rooms until very very late in the morning. But up we were and shortly after or before noon, we packed up all of our things, picked up our trash from her relatives' flat, and headed out to meet her friends, Lydia and Daniel. It was a beautiful day, and we recalled some of the fun things that happened on St. Pat's Day, but we both agreed that the little pizza we had the night before was not enough. We walked down Lisburne Road and Lydia met us to take us back to her place.

On the way, however, Lydia pointed out one of her favorite places to eat that had the best pizza, Little Wing Pizzeria. Rebecca and I both kind of stopped and looked at the sign which read, "Biggest pizza in Belfast." In the window was a rack of pies two feet in diameter! Both of us hung over a bit, Rebecca and I decided (with some persuading from Lydia) to invest in the biggest pizza in town. I've been told pizza is kind of a newer food item over here in the UK and a lot of people are still pretty wary of it. But places like Little Wing are gaining good traction. A lot of restaurants in Ireland are also becoming very into locally produced foods and advertise it very well - kind of harkening back to my days in Vermont.

We toted the pizza back to Lydia and Daniel's where we (Rebecca and I) devoured the entire pie. It took a bit of effort, but we did it! Amy and Katie came over and met up with us as well and we all just enjoyed the morning over coffee and photos. Daniel and I, being the two Americans there, chatted it up for a while and the girls did their catching up before both Lydia and Amy move out of Belfast. It was soon time to go and Lydia drove Rebecca and me back to the ferry docks so we didn't have to hire a cab, which was very nice. I can't say enough how awesome my hosts were for the weekend, Rebecca, Amy, and Lydia. Fantastic people!

The ferry ride back to Scotland was much less crowded and much more quiet than on the way to Belfast. I'm sure that the majority of rowdy kids took the morning ferry back. Whatever the case, the sun was out and it was so warm that I spend much of my time out on the smoking decks taking photos of the scenery. Northern Ireland and western Scotland really don't get such beautiful weather that often, so it really was a treat. Rebecca found me on the decks and we just walked around as the ship made it's way back into Loch Ryan. Thanks to the weather, we also got a really good view of an old volcanic plug (a nickname for the solidified conduit through which magma reaches Earth's surface) that is out in the middle of the water, kind of like a focal point for the entire area around it. Back on land, Scotrail was doing work on the train line from Ayr to Glasgow, so our coach drove us all the way back into downtown Glasgow and we then split a cab back to our own flats.

It was just a beautiful, sunny, warm, relaxing, and great day to cap off a perfect St. Paddy's Day weekend! Thanks for sticking through all the way. I hope you've at least enjoyed the photos if you didn't get through all my writing. Here are some more!

St. Patrick's Day in Belfast

Trip Date: 17 March 2012

A year ago, I was updating my blog from my friend's, Ruth, apartment in Singapore after flying in on St. Patrick's Day from Sydney! I can't believe that I've been able to keep up this blog for so long (a posting rate of 1 entry every 5.2 days!).

Well, back in Belfast, Rebecca and I woke up in the late morning and I grabbed us some coffee and muffins from Starbucks before we headed off to meet with her friend, Amy, and Amy's friend Katie for a day of St. Paddy's Day food, drinks, and festivities. Amy and Rebecca went to secondary school (that's high school, for you American folks) and now lives in Belfast, so she was our primary tour guide for the day. Since we were running a little late, we took a cab to the City Center and kicked off our morning right by wandering around the St. George's Market. The history of marketplaces in Belfast goes back to the mid 1600s, but the current St. George's Market's history goes back to the early industrial 1800s Belfast. This part of town had all sorts of marketplaces where merchants and farmers would come to sell their items. The May family started the modern marketplace, and after acquiring land next to their open-air market, they decided to build the current sandstone, iron, and glass structure you see today. The structure, completed in 1890, was built because farmers "are submitted to sufficient hardships already, without being compelled to stand in the open air in torrents of rain before they can sell their goods." It didn't take long for St. George's Market to become the place to buy your butter and eggs, as the market's motto goes.

Things changed a wee bit during the second World War. The marketplace was still the best place to do your shopping because everything you needed was found, somewhat bountifully, and in close proximity, whereas folks who lived outside of town a bit would have to wait in lines for limited items at their local grocers. It wasn't long though before the Irish were struck by the Germans during the Belfast Blitz of 1941 (Easter Tuesday). After parts of the city were decimated, St. George's Market was turned into a makeshift mortuary for 255 bodies that were brought there for identification. More recently, however, the Market remained open throughout the Troubles which wreaked havoc on other parts of Belfast and has been renovated and restored such that producers of all sorts - farmers, artists, fishermen, and more - still utilize the space a few days each week to see their merchandise.

The four of us wandered around the market for a good while, sampling local cheeses, salsas, curries, vegetables, and even got ourselves some Guinness-soaked Irish Sausages on a bun with egg (called a bap). Super super delicious! It was just after noon when we left the market and headed closer to the City Center to get a good spot along the street to watch Belfast's St. Paddy's Day Parade pass by. The parade was fantastic: not too long, but lots of people were out and those who were in it definitely were having a good time. Belfast has a lot to celebrate this year. All over town there were posters touting that 2012 is "Belfast's Year" as the world remembers the fate of the Titanic on its centennial anniversary (Titanic was built in Belfast - and it was fine when it left the docks, they say!) and they are celebrating the United Kingdom's opportunity to host the 2012 Summer Olympics. Even though they are in London, all UK cities are opening their arms to any visitors that may be coming their way as part of the Olympics. Belfast is even opening up a brand new Titanic Museum in the harbor this year to commemorate the ship-building history of Belfast and the history of that ill-fated voyage.

The tail end of the parade passed by and we followed it a little bit, back past Bittles, the pub Rebecca and I started at the night before, and down to the Albert Memorial Clock. The clock tower was built as a memorial to Prince Albert, Queen Victoria's husband, and was finished in 1869. Like so many other famous towers, the tower was built on swampy ground and has taken on a generous lean (4 feet) to one side! But the tower is stunning and the city is paying millions of pounds to try and halt the continuing lean.

While the throngs of people hustled into Custom House Square for some free live music, we meandered through some back alleyways until we got to a little pub called The Duke of York, a pub our restaurant server the night before suggested to us but apparently could not give us directions to. And so it started, the drinking that is. The pub was decked out with any and all sorts of vintage posters of Irish beers and whiskeys, advertisement trays, stickers, and tins. And in true Irish pub fashion, the tables were what looked like refurbished church pews and other benches and stools, and the table were hand crafted out of wood or recycled sewing machine benches.

We had a drink or two and watched as people from the US, Australia, Europe, and Ireland came in and out of the pub, but then it was time to move on because rugby was going to be starting soon, so we marched over to another bar, 21 Social (not a pub as it was much trendier). They had a big screen with rugby on (Scotland v. Italy - Scotland lost...again) but were not playing the commentary and few people were there, so we left our front seat table to find a better setting to watch the Wales v. France and England v. Ireland games.

First we went across the street to a pub, The Cloth Ear, where young Irish dancers were prancing about throughout the pub and you literally had to watch where you were walking or else you'd get a foot in your face. These girls were not joking around. If you were in their way, they were not going to stop for you, but you wouldn't realize it until you came to, sprawled out on the floor - a direct K-O from their dancing shoes. Needless to say, we moved on. It seemed like none of the other pubs people were suggesting worked out. We tried The Garrick, which looked great and they had the game on, but it was small and way too packed for us. And then we tried McCrackens and The Morning Star before finally going back to The Cloth Ear where the dancing had stopped and the Wales-France game was back on in full swing with commentary and everything. Everything but seats. We stood around and shared some stools and drinks for a little while, before I was sent on a reconnaissance mission back to 21 Social to see if our table was still open.

Our table had been taken by a group of guys we saw waiting around before we left that bar earlier in the day, but decided to head back there anyway since their screen was much bigger and the crowd was much more into the game. Drinks were passed and laughs were shared as Wales beat France to win the Six Nations tourney. We didn't have too long to figure out a game plan to find seats to watch the game (as we were standing behind the crowded table of guys). But then one of them suggested two empty stools they had open, so Katie and Amy took those, while Rebecca and I parked it on the floor. So much roomier and right in front of the action. Unfortunately, the action was all England, and they beat Ireland pretty well. And unfortunately for Katie, from England, she was unable to cheer for England as she was totally surrounded by rowdy, drunken, Irish folk. But she'd smile a bit when England did something good or Ireland messed up.



By this time it was quite late in the day, or actually, well into the evening...it's hard to remember at this point, but we needed food. The only open place was McDonald's (eyes are rolling, I know) but it was what we needed, something greasy and salty. When we were finished, we headed toward Filthy McNasty's, the pub that Rebecca and I ended at the night before. We were rendezvousing with another of Rebecca's friends from secondary school, Lydia, her husband, Daniel (a SoCal guy), and some of their friends. It was a bit chilly out, but Filthy's back courtyard was jam packed full of people and had lots of little alcoves where small fires were lit (which is a thing here in lots of pubs - real open fires!). The music was playing, the drinks were flowing, and flowing, and flowing. We met some locals by one of the fires and ended up chatting the rest of the night with them and eventually moved to one of the inside rooms where we could enjoy our drinks without worrying about the cold.

Suffice it to say that we closed out the pub and before we knew it, Rebecca and I walked to a taxi stand with Amy and Katie to see them back home, but we kept walking back to our place, only stopping to pick up a pizza. Once back at Rebecca's aunt's flat, we ate our pizza, enjoyed another beer brewed in Rebecca's hometown, and watched YouTube videos for a while before calling it quits and going to bed. Even with its past history of St. Patrick's Day riots and considering their loss to England in rugby, it was a fun, friendly, and successful SPD - the only kind I assume you can have in Ireland :)

Now we just had to get through the next morning...