After much reviewing of my photographs from the weekend I spent in Skye, and then talking a walk around campus and a few side roads the other day, I have come to one resounding conclusion regarding this country. Photos just don't do it any sort of justice. Sure they're pretty, vast in scope and can give you an example of what its like to be here, but that's just it - you have to BE HERE to understand the true magnificence of this place. Pictures can't let you smell the wind, taste the air, feel the ground beneath your feet. Its something without compare.
It it through this conclusion that I am now set, more than ever, to get my parents up to Skye. No one can say they've lived without experiencing that place in all its potential glory. Even when the weather was so-so, the FEEL of the place was what really got me deep down. There is nothing comparable to the way the wind off the moors stirs your heart, the way seeing the landscape roll in person leaves you speechless, the way the smell of the heather and the sound of the land imprints itself in your mind. One cannot simply see pictures of a place and say they've been there, or "how beautiful" or "it looks like so and so..". Yes, some of the landscapes here may be comparable to Western Canda or perhaps Ireland or New Zealand, but they FEEL entirely different. There is a history here that no other place can claim.
Also, on a less philisophical note - Spring is on its way! It's been two straight days of 55 degress and mostly sun, the tulips are shooting up from the spongy ground and the trees are putting out little green buds. It won't be long now before all the days get more hospitible and I can dive into hiking a bit more earnestly. The ridge (Danyat) behind Alexander Court is still tempting me daily to try and gain its peak. It defeated me the first time, but that was the sun's fault, not mine! I'll yet get up there and also climb to the Wallace Monument. Perhaps this weekend would be a good time to do that, seeing as the weather has turned for the better. But, I will add this little disclaimer regarding the weather here - its much like that of Wisconsin somedays, don't like it? Just wait five minutes and it can completely change on you.
So, though Spring is apparent, I could wake up to driving rains and grey tomorrow. But no fear, a little rain is in no way going to dampen my experience. I'm in Scotland for heaven's sake!
Friday 25 February 2011
Sunday 20 February 2011
Of Faeries, Hairy Coos and the Isle of Skye...
I had thought it couldn't get any prettier than Stirling. As beautiful as it may be, there is absolutely nothing that compares to the magnificence that is the Road to the Isles and the Isle of Skye. There is nothing on earth, man-made or otherwise than can even compare with the natural majesty that those lands posess. Photographs nor words can do them proper justice. One must be in the presence of such earthreal things to really understand what I mean. I plan on getting my parents to those lands. Missing out will not do. If one misses seeing the Highlands and Islands of Scotland, one has simply not lived. Not even in the slightest.
We visited Dunkeld (City of the Celts in Gaelic), Ruthven Fort, Inverness, Loch Ness, Eilean Donnan Castle, Kyleachen, Portree, MacDonald Castle, Faerie Glen, Ben Nevis, Glen Coe, Fort William, and others...what a trip! I don't think I've ever been as blown away by scenery as I was on that three day weekend. It was like opening a fantasy novel like Lord of the Rings and strolling into it. Sorry New Zealand, but that could've been filmed in the Highlands of Scotland and it would've been more magnificent. Trust me. And hiking the moors of Scotland? One of the most moving experiences of my life.
On a sadder note, I managed to get food poisoning whilst on Isle of Skye. From Haggis. Go figure. It was uber tasty, but my digestive system decided otherwise. A lovely night spent in the bathroom. But from that, I found out one thing about myself, I'm a pretty tough cookie. The next morning, the morning I was to hike through some wilderness on Isle of Skye, I was almost unable to get out of bed the pain was so bad. But I looked at myself in the mirror and told myself to take some pain meds, suck it up and get my ass on the bus. Our first stop on the Isle was a river said to be the tears of the giantess female warrior Skea (not sure how to spell it...Gaelic after all...) who's crying for her lost lover Culachen. (A giant from Ireland - our driver told us the tale and its morale was never to trust an Irishman haha). It is said that should one put their faces into the water, they gain eternal youth and beauty. By this point, I was cold, in pain, hadn't eaten and tired as all hell, but I dragged my sorry arse down to the river and stuck my sodding face in. Like magic, my energy was restored by the cold, fresh waters. Was there magic in that land of Skye? I can't say for sure, but I'm thinking there was something to it other than myth.
By the time we hit the capital of Skye, Portree, I was sick as a dog again, but my lovely flatmate Cara managed to get me some meds at the Chemist in town. The meds knocked me out for twenty or so minutes, and when I awoke we were just about at the next stop, a brisk three mile hike into the wilderness made of breathtaking views and a gorgeous moor. By then my screaming stomach had stopped hurting, and despite having eaten nothing all day for fear of another anarchy spell by my guts, I hopped off the bus, and off I went. The rest of the day was much better, I think the hike and movement coupled with the drugs did wonders. No more illness after that.
Thank god I hadn't stayed in bed that day - I would've missed out on a gorgeous day and probably would've kicked myself after seeing photos of it. Faerie Glen, for example, was the weirdest but prettiest landscape I'd ever seen. It was as if someone had shrunken Scotland and ploped it in the middle of nowhere. I walked the Negativity Circle, giving the rest of my food poisoning and my troubles over to the faeries, and then left them an offering to ensure good luck. That night I lost my room key, and it mysteriously appeared in my handbag the next morning. Magic, again? Perhpas. ;-)
I also fed a Hairy Coo (Hairy Cow). So cute. They're the big, orange, hairy, stoner looking cows that are native to Scotland. His name was Hamish, and his girlfriend was Heather. So cute. Hence the Hairy Coos in this blog post title.
The last amazing day was topped by the magnificent Glen Coe. The sight of a terrible massacre of the MacDonald clan by the Campbell Clan of England. They were sent to make an example of the clan under orders of the leaders of England who had set a charter that stated all clans had to swear fealty to the King of England in the space of a year or be put to sword and flame. All the clans of Scotland signed said charter, save for one. The MacDonald clan of Glen Coe refused until the last minute when the chief was swayed by his people. Angry that they weren't being taken seriously by the Scottish, England ordered the Campbells to march North and make an example of the MacDonalds. Once the Campbells reached Glen Coe, the MacDonalds, seeing the tired clansmen, offered them hospitality, which, under tradition, included two weeks of water, food and shelter as well as friendship for free. The Campbells accepted, and for two weeks mingled with their victims. On the dawn of the fourteenth day, the Campbells turned on their hosts and slaughtered them in their beds. Some escaped into the mountains only to perish there in the cold. Few survived. Henceforth the name Campbell is equal to the word TRAITOR.
I had found in a little village, right before Glen Coe, I had walked into a little wool mill and tourist shop, only to find they had Clan Tartan scarves. I searched once in vain for the Wilson's tartan (my family) until by chance I came upon it hanging in the bottom row, without a tag on it. The one behind it had a tag with the family history, so I bought it, along with a silver claymore and scottish shield pin to go with. I donned them both proudly in Glen Coe to honor those who died.
I discovered the Wilsons are famed for their tartan weaving - and the original colors for the Wilson Clan were picked by William Wilson for his wife, Janet. Creepy considering my middle name is Janet! I also found out they fought at the battle of Bannockburn, and also there were likely a few Wilsons at Culloden. Since the field of Bannockburn is so close to Stirling, I will have to make another journey there, this time more of a pilgramage, wearing my scarf, to honor my family. I had never thought my past was connected to such famous historical moments, but, I guess your past can always surprise you when you least expect it!
I look forward to returning to some of these places when my parents arrive in May. I only hope they'll be as awestruck and blown away as I was. My mum will die to see the moors, and my father will probably enjoy seeing the family history as well as hiking a bit. I CANNOT wait to show them. In the meantime, I'll be planning more trips to places around the UK, and perhaps even to Prague.
This is going to be an amazing semester!
We visited Dunkeld (City of the Celts in Gaelic), Ruthven Fort, Inverness, Loch Ness, Eilean Donnan Castle, Kyleachen, Portree, MacDonald Castle, Faerie Glen, Ben Nevis, Glen Coe, Fort William, and others...what a trip! I don't think I've ever been as blown away by scenery as I was on that three day weekend. It was like opening a fantasy novel like Lord of the Rings and strolling into it. Sorry New Zealand, but that could've been filmed in the Highlands of Scotland and it would've been more magnificent. Trust me. And hiking the moors of Scotland? One of the most moving experiences of my life.
On a sadder note, I managed to get food poisoning whilst on Isle of Skye. From Haggis. Go figure. It was uber tasty, but my digestive system decided otherwise. A lovely night spent in the bathroom. But from that, I found out one thing about myself, I'm a pretty tough cookie. The next morning, the morning I was to hike through some wilderness on Isle of Skye, I was almost unable to get out of bed the pain was so bad. But I looked at myself in the mirror and told myself to take some pain meds, suck it up and get my ass on the bus. Our first stop on the Isle was a river said to be the tears of the giantess female warrior Skea (not sure how to spell it...Gaelic after all...) who's crying for her lost lover Culachen. (A giant from Ireland - our driver told us the tale and its morale was never to trust an Irishman haha). It is said that should one put their faces into the water, they gain eternal youth and beauty. By this point, I was cold, in pain, hadn't eaten and tired as all hell, but I dragged my sorry arse down to the river and stuck my sodding face in. Like magic, my energy was restored by the cold, fresh waters. Was there magic in that land of Skye? I can't say for sure, but I'm thinking there was something to it other than myth.
By the time we hit the capital of Skye, Portree, I was sick as a dog again, but my lovely flatmate Cara managed to get me some meds at the Chemist in town. The meds knocked me out for twenty or so minutes, and when I awoke we were just about at the next stop, a brisk three mile hike into the wilderness made of breathtaking views and a gorgeous moor. By then my screaming stomach had stopped hurting, and despite having eaten nothing all day for fear of another anarchy spell by my guts, I hopped off the bus, and off I went. The rest of the day was much better, I think the hike and movement coupled with the drugs did wonders. No more illness after that.
Thank god I hadn't stayed in bed that day - I would've missed out on a gorgeous day and probably would've kicked myself after seeing photos of it. Faerie Glen, for example, was the weirdest but prettiest landscape I'd ever seen. It was as if someone had shrunken Scotland and ploped it in the middle of nowhere. I walked the Negativity Circle, giving the rest of my food poisoning and my troubles over to the faeries, and then left them an offering to ensure good luck. That night I lost my room key, and it mysteriously appeared in my handbag the next morning. Magic, again? Perhpas. ;-)
I also fed a Hairy Coo (Hairy Cow). So cute. They're the big, orange, hairy, stoner looking cows that are native to Scotland. His name was Hamish, and his girlfriend was Heather. So cute. Hence the Hairy Coos in this blog post title.
The last amazing day was topped by the magnificent Glen Coe. The sight of a terrible massacre of the MacDonald clan by the Campbell Clan of England. They were sent to make an example of the clan under orders of the leaders of England who had set a charter that stated all clans had to swear fealty to the King of England in the space of a year or be put to sword and flame. All the clans of Scotland signed said charter, save for one. The MacDonald clan of Glen Coe refused until the last minute when the chief was swayed by his people. Angry that they weren't being taken seriously by the Scottish, England ordered the Campbells to march North and make an example of the MacDonalds. Once the Campbells reached Glen Coe, the MacDonalds, seeing the tired clansmen, offered them hospitality, which, under tradition, included two weeks of water, food and shelter as well as friendship for free. The Campbells accepted, and for two weeks mingled with their victims. On the dawn of the fourteenth day, the Campbells turned on their hosts and slaughtered them in their beds. Some escaped into the mountains only to perish there in the cold. Few survived. Henceforth the name Campbell is equal to the word TRAITOR.
I had found in a little village, right before Glen Coe, I had walked into a little wool mill and tourist shop, only to find they had Clan Tartan scarves. I searched once in vain for the Wilson's tartan (my family) until by chance I came upon it hanging in the bottom row, without a tag on it. The one behind it had a tag with the family history, so I bought it, along with a silver claymore and scottish shield pin to go with. I donned them both proudly in Glen Coe to honor those who died.
I discovered the Wilsons are famed for their tartan weaving - and the original colors for the Wilson Clan were picked by William Wilson for his wife, Janet. Creepy considering my middle name is Janet! I also found out they fought at the battle of Bannockburn, and also there were likely a few Wilsons at Culloden. Since the field of Bannockburn is so close to Stirling, I will have to make another journey there, this time more of a pilgramage, wearing my scarf, to honor my family. I had never thought my past was connected to such famous historical moments, but, I guess your past can always surprise you when you least expect it!
I look forward to returning to some of these places when my parents arrive in May. I only hope they'll be as awestruck and blown away as I was. My mum will die to see the moors, and my father will probably enjoy seeing the family history as well as hiking a bit. I CANNOT wait to show them. In the meantime, I'll be planning more trips to places around the UK, and perhaps even to Prague.
This is going to be an amazing semester!
Wednesday 16 February 2011
Religious Experience With the Wind
I never really understood how Kathy in Wuthering Heights could be so in love with the smell and sound of the wind off the moors, but after a change in weather whilst on a walk, I can truly know how she felt.
After parting company with m flatmate after a brief wander through Stirling, the weather turned and became rainy. The wind, of course, came with it. And while walking down through the old, grey, winding streets of cobbled stone that is m home for the next few months, I realized one thing by watching the locals. Umbrellas are totall useless here. As soon as you open one here the wind turns it inside out in a heartbeat. Hence why no one really uses one lest they be a tourist.
I soon tucked the damned brelli away in a frustrated mood as I was now going to get soaked and cold. However, after hopping on the bus and getting off on campus, the walk back to my flat caught me off guard. The wet wind came sweeping down off the highlands behind my flat and hit me like nothing else. It was like having a religious revelation, like walking into a breathtaking cathedral for the first time. I couldn't believe it. It was incredible. Truly, something divine must have fashioned and gave shape to this land, a land which inspires moments of the purest awe in just a gust of wind. Kathy - I now know what I once did not. A taste of the wind off the moors is all it takes. I'm hooked.
The weekend is all lined up for a three day trip that includes Inverness, Loch Ness, Isle of Skye, Glen Coe (and another I cannot remember), Fort William, Eliean Donnan Castle, Macdonald Fort, and Edinburgh. I'm looking forward to having some soul stirring moments at all of these places. I just can't believe how few days I've been here and all the things I've already seen...
Stirling, Bridge of Allan, Stirling Bridge, Bannockburn, Stirling Castle, Dunblane/Dunblane Cathedral, Glasgow. I only hope this furious pace of seeing historical places and beautiful lands continous into my semester all the way until I jet out on June 4th.
After parting company with m flatmate after a brief wander through Stirling, the weather turned and became rainy. The wind, of course, came with it. And while walking down through the old, grey, winding streets of cobbled stone that is m home for the next few months, I realized one thing by watching the locals. Umbrellas are totall useless here. As soon as you open one here the wind turns it inside out in a heartbeat. Hence why no one really uses one lest they be a tourist.
I soon tucked the damned brelli away in a frustrated mood as I was now going to get soaked and cold. However, after hopping on the bus and getting off on campus, the walk back to my flat caught me off guard. The wet wind came sweeping down off the highlands behind my flat and hit me like nothing else. It was like having a religious revelation, like walking into a breathtaking cathedral for the first time. I couldn't believe it. It was incredible. Truly, something divine must have fashioned and gave shape to this land, a land which inspires moments of the purest awe in just a gust of wind. Kathy - I now know what I once did not. A taste of the wind off the moors is all it takes. I'm hooked.
The weekend is all lined up for a three day trip that includes Inverness, Loch Ness, Isle of Skye, Glen Coe (and another I cannot remember), Fort William, Eliean Donnan Castle, Macdonald Fort, and Edinburgh. I'm looking forward to having some soul stirring moments at all of these places. I just can't believe how few days I've been here and all the things I've already seen...
Stirling, Bridge of Allan, Stirling Bridge, Bannockburn, Stirling Castle, Dunblane/Dunblane Cathedral, Glasgow. I only hope this furious pace of seeing historical places and beautiful lands continous into my semester all the way until I jet out on June 4th.
Sunday 13 February 2011
First Impressions
Day One and Two...
Arriving here in Scotland was one of the single most exciting times in my life. I mean, way up there in terms of incredible happenings. It was that feeling of relief - "I'm finally here" hardly describes it. It's like achieving something I once thought may have been impossible. But here I am, bloggin away in my flat after a lovely night cooking, hiking and talking with my flatmates.
I had a moment waking up this morning where I thought: "My God, what the hell am I doing here?!" and a brief moment of saddened panic. But then I got down to my routine - showered, did make up while watching a film on my laptop, getting dressed, and decided to head out to the Uni's shop to get some groceries. Don't get me wrong, the night I arrived (last night) my flatmates were fantastic - we went to a pub and watched a Rugby match, Aton cooked a lamb leg for dinner from his uncle's farm (where else would that happen?!) and they showed me around a bit to get my bearings. This moment of utter saddness hit me out of nowhere - I couldn't put my finger on it.
But, have no fear readers, this blogger found everything could be solved by simply stepping out the door. Today I went alone to the campus shop, and as soon as I saw the highland landscape, the Wallace Monument framed in a halo of sun against grey sky, the castle brilliantly lit with golden light, swans walking along the path and the fresh, damp air...I told that feeling to "piss off". The walk did wonders. And my flatmates did even more. Halfway to the store, they called me and asked if I'd like to go on a hike in the ridges behind the flat. How could I resist?
The way was steep - but everyone was helping one another, guys watching out for the girls, girls helping each other and so on. The little saddness left from the morning completely disappeared as a mossy stone wall, crumbling with wooden fence in the gaps, appeared ahead and beyond was a craggy clearing of a golden hue filled with highland sheep. It was so pretty I can't even give it justice. We hiked out onto a one lane road, and from there the wilderness opened up before us, all rust colored and twisted trees on ridges and sweeping valleys. A gurgling stream ran beside the road, which just set the scene as we hiked on pact sundown. I couldn't stop oozing over the beautiful country that is Scotland - hope the flatmates get used to that, because I don't think I'll ever get over it.
I can't think of a better place to be, or a place that's made me fall this far in love already. The people are wonderful - and yes, all Scottish men sing and play guitar, this is not just a stereotype. They may not sing well, or play the guitar well, but they do both in varying degrees of proficeincy. :-P My flatmates are lovely, the guys are kind as can be, and a bit sassy too, which is appreciated by me. (Wonder where that comes from? ;-D )
I look at it this way - I'm in Uni at La Crosse for four months out of the year, and the last two semesters I really didn't go home much. So how different is going to Uni here for a bit over three and not going home, but having my parents come here at the end of term? Sure, its a couple thousand miles away, but there's ways of getting in touch. I have a feeling I'm going to be just fine come tomorrow morning. The prospect of a possible trip to the Isle of Skye or the Highlands this weekend is definately going to keep my spirits high. As are the other trips with my flatmates in the works - a Rugby match in Edinburgh, a weekend in York, Lincoln and Nottingham, a day in Bath and Cardiff, a trip to Loch Ness and Inverness, trips to Edinburgh and Glasgow, a weekend in London, hikes in the Highlands and Trossachs.
I have a feeling this is going to be a good semester...
Cheers!
Arriving here in Scotland was one of the single most exciting times in my life. I mean, way up there in terms of incredible happenings. It was that feeling of relief - "I'm finally here" hardly describes it. It's like achieving something I once thought may have been impossible. But here I am, bloggin away in my flat after a lovely night cooking, hiking and talking with my flatmates.
I had a moment waking up this morning where I thought: "My God, what the hell am I doing here?!" and a brief moment of saddened panic. But then I got down to my routine - showered, did make up while watching a film on my laptop, getting dressed, and decided to head out to the Uni's shop to get some groceries. Don't get me wrong, the night I arrived (last night) my flatmates were fantastic - we went to a pub and watched a Rugby match, Aton cooked a lamb leg for dinner from his uncle's farm (where else would that happen?!) and they showed me around a bit to get my bearings. This moment of utter saddness hit me out of nowhere - I couldn't put my finger on it.
But, have no fear readers, this blogger found everything could be solved by simply stepping out the door. Today I went alone to the campus shop, and as soon as I saw the highland landscape, the Wallace Monument framed in a halo of sun against grey sky, the castle brilliantly lit with golden light, swans walking along the path and the fresh, damp air...I told that feeling to "piss off". The walk did wonders. And my flatmates did even more. Halfway to the store, they called me and asked if I'd like to go on a hike in the ridges behind the flat. How could I resist?
The way was steep - but everyone was helping one another, guys watching out for the girls, girls helping each other and so on. The little saddness left from the morning completely disappeared as a mossy stone wall, crumbling with wooden fence in the gaps, appeared ahead and beyond was a craggy clearing of a golden hue filled with highland sheep. It was so pretty I can't even give it justice. We hiked out onto a one lane road, and from there the wilderness opened up before us, all rust colored and twisted trees on ridges and sweeping valleys. A gurgling stream ran beside the road, which just set the scene as we hiked on pact sundown. I couldn't stop oozing over the beautiful country that is Scotland - hope the flatmates get used to that, because I don't think I'll ever get over it.
I can't think of a better place to be, or a place that's made me fall this far in love already. The people are wonderful - and yes, all Scottish men sing and play guitar, this is not just a stereotype. They may not sing well, or play the guitar well, but they do both in varying degrees of proficeincy. :-P My flatmates are lovely, the guys are kind as can be, and a bit sassy too, which is appreciated by me. (Wonder where that comes from? ;-D )
I look at it this way - I'm in Uni at La Crosse for four months out of the year, and the last two semesters I really didn't go home much. So how different is going to Uni here for a bit over three and not going home, but having my parents come here at the end of term? Sure, its a couple thousand miles away, but there's ways of getting in touch. I have a feeling I'm going to be just fine come tomorrow morning. The prospect of a possible trip to the Isle of Skye or the Highlands this weekend is definately going to keep my spirits high. As are the other trips with my flatmates in the works - a Rugby match in Edinburgh, a weekend in York, Lincoln and Nottingham, a day in Bath and Cardiff, a trip to Loch Ness and Inverness, trips to Edinburgh and Glasgow, a weekend in London, hikes in the Highlands and Trossachs.
I have a feeling this is going to be a good semester...
Cheers!
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