November
15 (or so) - Barcelona on the Brain
Gaudi, Modernism, Monestaries and More!
First off, I have to say that my five day trip to Barcelona was
the trip of a lifetime. Yes, it would have been nice to be rich
in that city (ohhh, the shoes!) and stay in a beautiful penthousy
type thing down by the ocean (or is it the sea?). But as things
stand I'd say I was very lucky, and I definitely had a great time.
So this little blurb is going to differ from the rest as I am
going to break it down by day, because I did sooo much every single
day that I would get everything confused if there wasn't some
sort of order in all of this. Here we go:
Arrival (Nov 11): The first thing I want to mention is that Barcelona,
unlike most cities I've been in so far, is HUGE and also spread
out amongst lumpy 'mountains'. As a result, the effect of coming
in from Girona airport (bless you RyanAir!) is very surreal. As
you approach the city you feel a little like you're in Blade Runner,
or some other similar futuristic movie. The road winds in between
these hills - so sometimes you are looking over a valley with
a huge hill on the other side, but there are also smaller hills
in the valley, so that some of them reach up to, or higher than
road height. I'm not explaining this very well, but trust me,
it's trippy (no I hadn't been drinking). I left during the day
so I could see what I had actually been looking at. Not Blade
Runner at all that time, but since I could see the hills (and
not just the lights on them) I realized just how much hillier
it was than I initially thought. PS, I love hilly places.
Day 1 (Nov 12th) La Ribera/Barri Gotic/Picasso:
Having made it to my hostel in one piece walking through some
rather dodgy territory from the Estancio Nord bus station, I was
not too optimistic about the prospects for wandering in the immediate
vicinity of my lodgings. It turns out, luckily, I was wrong. Not
only was I on the edge of an old neighborhood called La Ribera,
but it turned into one of my favorite places in the whole city.
Obviously from the Blade Runner thing, I am not a good describer,
but bear with me. For those of you who have been to Barcelona
(or any large Spanish city, I would imagine) this should sound
familiar.
La Ribera consists of a labryinth of windy and narrow
alleys - I think only a few of them could be justifiably called
streets. As a result it is one huge mostly pedestrian area. One
of the weird things about this city, which became evident in this
neighborhood in particular, is that it has a very odd rhythm.
You know how in Canada businesses open in the morning and close
at pretty predictable times in the evening (usually 8 or 9 at
the lastest for retail)?. Barcelona has either not heard of this
system or doesn't care, I'm guessing the latter. Businesses open
whenever they feel like it, close, reopen, and close again according
to no discernable pattern whatsoever. So a shoe store might be
open from 9 to 2, close, then reopen for 7 to 11:45. Sure, you're
thinking they're factoring in siesta time, which is probably right.
But the stores decide on their own when to siesta, so you can
never be sure when they are going to be open or closed. The other
thing, which I found extremely disorienting was that, when businesses
are closed, they disappear!!! I'm serious (no I wasn't
drinking! Ok, well a couple of times...). When stores close they
also close these aluminum doors over their storefronts, effectively
covering all evidence of what is behind. I think in this
shot you can see where the doors would close from the top.
So unless you are paying attention to what street and number a
particular place is, you are unlikely to find it again. I am what
might be most accurately described as a 'landmark navigator'.
Don't get me wrong, I'm killer with a map (most of the time),
but since I like to wander, I mainly just pay attention to what
is around me and remember it the next time I am there. But that
plan goes straight to hell if the landmarks you are navigating
by - interesting stores and restaurants usually, when you can't
see above the buildings for bigger things - keep disappearing,
and new ones opening up! The effect is that you could walk down
the same alley at three different times and it would look completely
different every single time. I got used to this pretty quickly,
but it made things like finding a nice restaurant to eat at later
difficult. On the other hand, it was delightful because it was
like a whole new world was right outside of my door everytime
I walked out.
La Ribera is also home to some of the nicest museums and sights
in Barcelona, including the Picasso
Museum. After wandering for a bit it was my first stop, and
should be anyone's first stop of they happen to be in the area.
This museum had hundreds of Picasso's paintings and drawings spanning
his entire life. Most were donated, as far as I could tell, by
his estate in 1971 - so alot of the studies and sketches (including
some erotic ones, oooh la la) that went on to be famous pieces,
or were just him playing around, are there. It was really fascinating
to see his work develop from his youth to the end of his life.
And, man, it was quite a radical development that started with
realistic portraits and landscapes and culminated in cubism. I
don't think you could get much different. Anyhow, even though
the museum was crammed with tourists and school kids (booo!) it
was definitely a great experience. But, I'm just going to come
out and say it - I'm not a big fan of cubism! I see where he's
going, but I prefer the land/cityscapes.
From the museum I kept wandering in La Ribera and checked out
Cathedral
Santa Maria del Mar, which is one of the oldest in Barcelona.
Then I wandered over to the Barri Gotik (across the street really),
home to many government buildings, fragments of the Roman city,
courtyards and places, the Cathedral La Seu, and the Dali museum
(among many other things). I think it is, officially, the oldest
part of Barcelona (hence the Roman
bits), but it looked and felt alot like La Ribera. The Dali
museum was a bit of a trip, as you can see in the photos I took.
The I went to the next neighborhood, El Ravel, where the university
is located ( a little dingy looking, I'm not going to lie), the
modern art museum and a Gaudi museum. The Gaudi thing I never
got to, or rather, I got to, but it was closed for renovations
(like alot of things were), it being a low time of year for tourism.
The MACBA, or Modern Art Museum of Barcelona, was a nice building.
But by that time my patience for looking at squiggly lines and
wire sculptures hung with trash was dwindling, and I breezed through
the place and went home for my siesta!
I had a great evening eating down in Port Vell, where I finally
got to see Montjuic, where I was planning to head the next day.
I also got to see how the rich live, partying on their yatchs.
I have to admit there was some daydreaming going on there. Also,
I found out that it is best to stick to wine in Spain (duh). I
made the mistake of ordering a vodka martini - a perfect start
to an evening of eating and drinking, I thought - which no one
seemed to know how to make. Anyhow, for any of you who end up
going to Spain, I think the correct terminology is a 'vodkatini'
- otherwise you get Martini premixed something or other, blech!
Live and learn, I guess.
Day 2 (Nov 13) Montjuic - While sitting on the restaurant
boat in Port Vell the night before I had decided to wander up
Montjuic which is (in case you didn't know) the tallest hill in
Barcelona, right by the water. Most of the 1992 Olympics was held
up there, but there are also lots of other interesting things.
For example, there is a fort on the tippy top, several museums,
some spectacular gardens, and, needless to say, some incredible
views. Of course, it was very foggy/smoggy that day so the
pictures of the views
aren't as great at they could have been. Actually, the views were
all breathtaking to me, because they finally revealed the scale
of the city. Walking around in the alleys of the old city, you
get the impression that the place is big, but you can't actually
see anything beyond the next street. From Montjuic you can see
that the city goes on forever. And not only is it large,
but you can see its density too. All of this was pretty amazing
to me - a student of cities. And I am pretty sure that this is
the biggest city I've ever been in.
I took the Metro to Monjuic and the funicular half way up. The
teleferic that would have taken me right to the top was closed
for repairs so I had to hoof it. This was fine with me, as I figured
that it would be beautiful and I could use the exercise to work
off all the good eatin'! Also, the Fundacio
Joan Miro art gallery was along the way, so no worries. Joan
Miro was a famous Catalan artist, who specialized in what I can
only describe as 'gestural art'. Some of it was really interesting,
some of it reminded me of something
I'd seen before (Nelles family, can you help me out on this
one?), and the rest looked like a kid had gotten hold of some
paints and big canvasses. So I guess the upshot is that I am a
fan of about a dozen of Miro's paintings and sculptures, but definitely
not everything.
From the museum I decided to try to get to the fort. I mean,
it was supposed to be some great castle right on the top, and
everyone knows that they have the best views. But I guess I took
a route up that I shouldn't have, because I was kind of disappointed.
The 'gardens' and land around the road up seemed overgrown and
neglected, there were crazy cat people feeding strays, and everything
seemed to be sort of falling apart. This view was not much improved
when I finally made it to the 'castle'. I must have come up around
the back, because I had to walk around the moat to get to the
gate in. The walk around the walls was fine, but reinforced the
feeling that things were just being let go. Where there could
have been nice gardens around the walls there was just scrubby
grass and concrete. On the bright side, there was lots of activity
up there - a tennis club playing against the castle walls, an
archery range etc. And there were extensive walking trails that
were being used by hikers and bikers and runners (yeah, psychos
that decided to run up the mountain, whatever!). I was
feeling really gypped until I got to a viewpoint where I could
see the port. I really like industry, especially to photograph,
and the view of the port was impressive to say the least (panoramics,
will be up soon). Another 15 minute walk around the walls and
I got to the top and main gates. Turns out, unless you want to
check out a military museum, there's not much else to do but look
at the view up there. Nice, but not as exciting as I had hoped.
I walked down the way I should have come up, and discovered what
has become my favorite garden in the whole world. I'm trying to
think of how many gardens I've actually been in, and it's probably
not that many, but this one tops them all. I don't know what it's
called, but it's just past the Miro museum on the left, heading
down. In addition to hosting a lot of Olympic events, Montjuic
was also host to a world fair in like 18 something or other. Alot
of the buildings like the Palau
Nacional were built for the fair, and this garden was designed
to showcase the work of local artists. It is a terraced garden,
divided into different little sections and enclaves where each
artist was given free reign to design their part. The result is
a sort of labryinth of different styles where around every corner
is something different. Usually these enclaves were anchored
by a statue, fountain,
or seating area of some kind. I think I could spend hours in this
relatively small bit of park.
Next was the Palau Nacional, which now houses the museum of Catalan
art. This museum is beautiful, and has an impressive collection
of gothic art, and contemporary photography. It didn't blow my
mind, but was definitely worth checking out - if only for the
arena in the centre of the building. Oh, the parties you could
have in there! Couldn't take any pictures though.
That night I had a late dinner in a nice little courtyard back
in my neighborhood, after getting almost lost on the walk home.
I headed to bed early so that I could get an early start as an
intrepid day-tripper to Montserrat.
Day 3 (Nov 14) - Monserrat: From Hell to Heaven in 1200m
Travelling, I have discovered, is about highs and lows. You have
certain expectations and they are either blown away when things
are way more amazing than you ever thought they could be, or blown
out of the water when things end up sucking. This was one of those
rare occasions when both happened.
Monserrat is a famous monestary located in the mountains about
an hour or so from Barcelona. It is mainly famous for its striking
setting, and I think that the monestary has some sort of Black
Madonna (not the singer) that is a pretty popular sight. My German
guide book described the place as "on of the holiest places
in all of Spain". So, expectation #1: this place was going
to be sacred and holy, serene - a place for contemplation and
meditation, where the remote and rugged setting adds to the isolation
and silence and gets you that much closer to heaven. Realistic?
Ok, so maybe that was a bit romantic, but not completely unreasonable,
right?
I got on the train around 9 on Sunday morning - nothing was open
so I hadn't had a chance to eat anything. As anyone who knows
me knows, a hungry Jen is an angry, cranky, and generally short
tempered Jen. This is usually exacerbated by lack of sleep, which
was indeed a factor here. In short, I was not a happy camper.
But, nonetheless, I was excited to get out and see the mountains.
The ticket I bought included all of the transportation to and
from Montserrat, admission to the monestary, plus a ticket to
the funicular that gets you on the ridges above for around 18
Euros. All in all, I thought it was a pretty good deal. Anyhow,
by the time we got there it was clear that the day was going to
be cloudy (quelle surprise), and possibly even rainy. Nevertheless,
the mountains
were insane looking, and definitely looked interesting. Plus
I brought my rain jacket! My tummy was rumbling, but I knew there
had to be some food at the monestary, so I didn't panic. Until
I got up there...
There was food alright. But also, about a million people, half
of whom were either over 80 or under 5. Arghhh! I decided to try
the logical approach. Ok, so I don't like people that much, especially
crowds of them, and especially those who walk at like
negative 5 miles per hour like those really old people! But, I
reasoned, they have just as much right as me to be here, so just
grin and bear it. Then I saw the lines. There were line ups for
everything - apparently isolation breeds scarcity. One washroom,
one cafe, one bar, one cafeteria (barf). Remember, I was starving,
so the first order of business was to eat. I checked out the area
and the cafeteria was really my only option. So I got in line
and waited. It was moving pretty quickly, so despite my unpleasant
surroundings (a cafeteria) I was optimistic. Except. Directly
behind me in line was a like million year old lady who decided
that she was going to get to eat/wherever she was going faster
if she was plastered against my back. Everyone else seemed to
grasp the concept of the line. Wait your turn, with sufficient
space between individuals that no significant contact is being
made between strangers (a brush or bump is ok - smothering is
not). Unfortunately, this four foot antique had even less patience
than me, and far fewer qualms about personal space. I gave her
'the mom look' a couple of times (you guys know what I'm talking
about), increasing in severity each time. Then I asked her politely
to get her tray out of my bum crack (she had wedged it between
us). But to no avail! There was nothing I could do and I was trapped.
Finally, after getting a cold piece of pizza, and wilty looking
tomato and some deep fried cheese (??? I still don't know what
those were) I got out of there and finally got to eat. All I can
say is yuck. They get minus 25 starts in the Micheline guide.
So really, I just picked away at my food and tried to stave off
starvation. By this point I was frustrated and unimpressed. The
monestary
and the mountains were gorgeous, but there wasn't much else
to do up there other than mill around or stand in line for something.
And the train back down didn't leave for an hour. I was ready
to pull the chute when I remembered the funicular to the top.
I figured, whatever, this sucks, but at least if I get to the
top it will kill some time and I can say that I did it. And with
that, I made my way to the funicular...
Line up! Inevitably there was a line, but I was killing time,
so whatever. Plus, I got to take what has become one of my favorite
shots
from that vantage point. You guessed it - he's checking out the
lines! Anyhow, this was an unorganized line that involved a lot
of jostling for position. I get that, people are impatient! Eventually
people had figured themselves out and the line proceeded in a
more orderly fashion. Great right? WRONG! The people behind me
had similarly deficient views of the concept of personal space
as the antique in the cafeteria! Don't get me wrong, it's not
like I can't handle being touched occasionally - sure, whatever,
that comes with the territory. But constant rubbing against and
touching when I am clearly giving them enough space to stand the
hell back is just mental. This is where I snapped. The people
behind me were a couple - in their early twenties by my reckoning,
and the woman was either pregnant or fat, it was hard to tell.
Anyhow, she was behind her boyfriend, husband whatever, the whole
time while he was literally pressed up against me and fondling
my ass! At first, I thought it was an accident, but as I moved
to give him more and more space, I kept feeling something (I refuse
to speculate on precisely what it was) brushing against my posterior.
I gave some sheepish looks designed to convey the idea - man,
I know it's close in here, but this is as far up as I can get,
mind doing your part and stepping back? - finally, I just said
it. Buddy, do you mind not fondling my ass, you can stand over
here (and I made some space). I didn't say it angrily, though
I was angry. And then both of them burst out giggling, like they
were both in on it and it was the funniest thing in the world.
I almost bodychecked him down the stairs (and it was a very satisfyingly
long way down), but it was our turn to get into the funicular.
So I decided to try and get as far away from those psychos as
possible in the funicular car, and vowed to go home as soon as
I got the chance. Holiest part of Spain my ass! More like holy
shit get me the hell out of here! I can honestly say, that
I was as close to being in hell as I have ever been (while healthy).
I absolutely HATED it.
And then I got to the top. Not only was it gorgeous, but there
were three walking trails, and the crowds dissipated in every
direction. I lost the nut cases on the first path, and was rewarded
with some amazing
views. Not only that, but my sanity started to return. After
doing a quick trip on the Saint Joan path (20mins), I decided
to seek out the highest point on the Saint Jeroni path (about
1 hr). The sun had started to come out and my mood improved with
every step away from the mayhem. Do yourself a favour and look
at the landcape shots of the Saint Jeroni trail as a slide show
- it had to be some of the most unique, completely awesome, and
beautiful landscape I have ever seen. It's rugged, but softened
by erosion. The rock formations are strange and alien, but somehow
familiar (maybe that's cause some of them looked like penises!).
And it just got more and more spectacular the further I walked.
The last 20 minutes was a hard slog more or less straight up,
but the rest was a pretty easy walk - despite the fact that if
you slipped or tripped you would fall off a mountain and most
certainly die. When I finally got to the viewpoint the whole crazy
day was 1000% worth it. I have never seen anything as amazing
and gorgeous, and just downright stunning
as I did from the Saint
Jeroni viewpoint. You are dizzyingly high, and have a view
more or less straight down. Around 1300m straight down. No, it's
not the highest on earth I have ever been, and the visibility
was not the best, but it is definitely the highest I have ever
felt - ever. Under any circumstances. I don't think I can think
of a time when I have been happier. It was just awesome. Pictures
will never do it justice - just trust me, you have to go.
As I descended back into the hellish valley of the monestary
I did so with a zen like calm. I had learned a valuable lesson
about sticking with it which I can now share with you. If you
do go to Montserrat, pack a lunch, skip the monestary, go and
the hike. Achieve nirvana.
Day 4 (Nov 15) - Modernism
After my experience at Montserrat I was pretty drained
and my legs were killing me. But, I still had a lot to do in Barcelona!
The city is probably best known for the architectural influences
of Antonio Gaudi, a local artist, designer, and architect that
changed the face of Barcelona in the late 1800s and early 1900s.
Modernism, the school of architecture he helped create, draws
it's influences from nature. I think a lot of styles of art can
be said to do that, but none as fantastically, and whimsically,
as Gaudis.
Casa
Batllo (built from 1905-07) is one of the most famous on the
Passig de Gracia. The lighting on the photos I took isn't the
best, but you get the idea of what the building looks like (it's
just alot more colourful than the photos). The inspiration for
the building was clearly the sea. There are almost no straight
surfaces (except for the floors). Everything undulates
and swirls
like waves. The walls look like they have scales, the skylights
look sort of like turtle shells, the banister looks like the spine
of some sea creature, and ventilation grates like gills. Nothing
is completely literal, but you can see the influence everywhere.
This place is like a fantasy house. Most of the other examples
of modernism in Barcelona (and there are tons, including the Palau
Musicau Catalan) are not
as out there. But you can see some of the same ideas playing
out more subtly.
I guess you could call this my Gaudi day, because next I headed
to La
Sagrada Familia. There are some museums that are probably
really interesting between Casa Batllo and the cathedral, but,
to tell you the truth, I was museumed out, and it was too beautiful
of a day to be inside for long. This cathedral has been under
construction for over a hundred years, and is still not even halfway
done. It was mainly designed by Gaudi, but construction was interrupted
by a civil war, a depression and two world wars, so it's not like
they were just being lazy. The entire project is funded by private
donations, and the proceeds from the admission fee. Without a
doubt it is a weird
and wonderful
building. Emphasis on the weird part. At first I couldn't decide
if I liked it and wondered if there was a reason that Gaudi and
gaudy sound so similar. But in the end, it is a marvellous place
that just grabs your imagination and takes it for a whirl. You
can tell from the finished bits that it is going to be quite
a sight when the construction is finally done.
After a trip to the top
of a spire I decided to check out Park Guell - another one
of Gaudi's flights of fancy. This park is, like pretty much everything
else in Barcelona, beautiful and unexpected. It is probably best
known for the mosaics
and ceramic covered crazy
pavillions. It is on a hill overlooking the city, which makes
it a particularly beautiful and peaceful place. Although, the
whole city is amazing it is nice to get away from it in the parks.
My last day I just spent wandering around, shopping and doing
some errands, so not too much to tell there. All I can really
say is that Barcelona is my favorite place right now. It is ecclectice,
surprising, unpredictable. It is colourful, warm and has a great
vibe and culture to it. I think the experience would have been
different if I had been travelling other people. I didn't really
make any friends there - mainly cause I didn't speak Spanish and
I was also a half miler on the nightlife, which starts around
midnight at the earliest. Seeing as I had so much to do every
day, partying till the wee hours just wasn't in the cards. I'd
love to go back though with Dale and salsa the night away. I supposed
there will just have to be a next time! I know that Barcelona
is one of those cities that I will always be able to find an excuse
to return to! In the meantime, I'm going to have to learn to dance
and speak spanish!
Adios - Jen
|
November
5 - Glasgow and Beyond
Knackered!
Ok, I've owed you all the rundown of the happenings on my trip
to Glasgow for quite some time now, so here it is. I am a slacker,
that much is clear - I hope you will forgive me.
Where to start? This was my longest and most eventful trip to
date (with the possible exception of Oktoberfest). Not only did
I have an excellent time, but the trip was also excessively educational!
For example, I learned all about cockney
rhyming slang. Ok, so I didn't hear much of it in Glasgow,
but Norah and I played around with it for awhile. For example
- 'just chillin' at my drum' means: I'm just hanging out at my
place. Don't ask me to explain, as Norah pointed out, there don't
seem to be any rules. She wishes it was more like pig latin. I
also learned that Scottish beer is just plain not that great.
See, I have this policy. When in (insert country here), drink
local beer. I mean, you can get a Corona anywhere, so you should
get out and try new things! Well, I tell ya, that works well in
Germany. Not so well in Scotland. So most of the locals I met
were just plain bewildered by my choices of beverages. I have
since revised my philosophy. When in (insert country here), find
out what type of alcohol they do best, and go with that. In the
case of Scotland, that would be, ummm, Scotch! Didn't have any
in a bar, but I did manage to visit a distillery and also bought
a bottle. So, I guess you could say that, as a result of this
alcoholic revelation, I am now a better and more well-rounded
person (and will never be accused of drinking a NED beer again).
Alright, now to the touristy stuff. I have to be honest, Glasgow
is not my favorite place. Norah insists that I should have seen
the city in the sunshine, which I totally didn't seeing as it
was dull and damp the whole time I was there (except the unplanned
last day). It's not that I didn't like the city - I did. It just
had a very different vibe from anywhere else I've been so far.
It's definitely more working class (which means they know how
to party!), and while it has old parts, it doens't feel that old
for some reason. From a planning point of view it feels kind of
thrown together - the streets end in right angles and t intersections
like other European cities, but there are new buildings sort of
thrown in with the old ones that don't really feel right for some
reason. There's a sort of dissonance about the place. And, as
I was walking around Frankfurt the other day, I realized that
one of the things that I was really missing was the green.
Glasgow is not a particularly green city. There are parks, but
not that many. Granted, I wasn't there for that long, so I could
be wrong.
One of the things that I really enjoyed about Glasgow was the
art. At the Hunterian Gallery there was a great collection of
old masters - with some of my favorite Whistlers. Also, there
was a great exhibit of art nouveau pieces called Doves
and Dreams with the art of Francis MacDonald and J Herbert
McNair. It's really some beautiful stuff. Ok, well, apparently
the 'Glasgow Style' developed by these artists, as well as Charles
Rennie MacKintosh is significantly different from Art Nouveau,
but it looked pretty similar to me! But wait, beyond the Glasgow
style there are a whole bunch of very interesting Scottish painters.
The Kelvingrove Museum (newly renovated, and very interesting)
has a great collection of paintings by the "Glasgow
Boys". One of my favorites is this one by Cadell, which
you kind of have to see big - but you get the idea:
I guess that it is fair to say that I had a great time at these
two museums (the modern art one was just ok, though you can see
some pictures of that in the photo galleries section).
As for the rest of the city, Norah was an excellent tour guide
of the bars and restaurants. We ate well at the Mother India Cafe
(delicious Indian), drank at the Left Bank (I think that's what
it was called) on Gibson Street, and partied to a very modest
hour on Ashton Lane - which is the coolest lane of bars I have
ever seen - where Norah was hit on by the youngest guy in the
bar (22), while I cooled my heels learning about the history of
Guiness (sipping my aweful Scottish beer!) with the oldest guy
there (I think he was about 70!). The good news is that the strapping
young lad thought we were both 22 (what a sweetheart!). The bad
news was that, even though he was quite persistant in insisting
he was "a mature 22", his friends looked like they were
17! Norah tossed him back into the sea, and we went home to crawl
into bed together (haha, that is so not what you think! Get your
minds out of the gutters you silly pervs!!!).
The reason we went home at a decent hour was because we were
both completely knackered, and we had to get up early to climb
Ben Lomond the next day. A Ben is a hilly sort of thing that people
climb for the fun of it, and have a jolly good time looking out
at the view from. I am certain that if the weather was better
I would also have had the priviledge of seeing the view, but instead
I had to settle for a tour of an island, a tour of a distillery
(single malt people!), and a jaunt around Stirling. I say settle,
but it was nothing of the sort. We took a great little wooden
boat to the island of Inchcailloch, with a captain with zero people
skills who grunted that he would be back to pick us up (yeah right!).
Turns out this island is now a nature preserve, but it used to
have a nunnery, and people used to go there to live a life of
deprevation and contemplation. Woohoo. They also used to bury
people there, if they remembered to. See, Scottish funerals, we
were told, got so out of hand that they would occaisionally forget
to bury, or even lose, the body! So the state stepped in and banned
drinking at funerals, which, of course, didn't work! I think they
solved the problem by stopping the practice of burying people
on the island, thereby eliminating the need for a designated boater
and staying closer to the supply of scotch. Plus, I'm sure that
the people who were deprived and contemplating made for super
duper party poopers anyway. Anyhow, the Loch looked splendid from
the top of the island, and we were treated to an amazing rainbow
that lasted the whole time we were up there.
Next we went to the Glengoyne distillery and went on a tour and
had a tasting. This was especially nice after our sort of damp
day. Norah and Jim (our friend and the guy with the car) were
not scotch fans at the start, but may have been converted. Fingers
crossed. I hope they weren't too converted cause I had to leave
the bottle I bought earlier in Glasgow with Norah, otherwise it
would have been confiscated by the evil security officers at the
airport. If they think that they are going to make travelling
safer by taking my scotch away they should think again! Anyhow,
after the distillery we checked out Stirling castle, but the light
was failing, the castle was closing, and us girls had a pressing
social engagement (read: party) to get to, so the visit was short
but sweet. A huge thanks to Jim for being a fellow tourist, gracious
host in his country, and our driver. Without him I never would
have been able to see the almost highlands! Also, he was full
of great ideas of where I should go on my next trip and has inspired
me to come back and see the rest of the beautiful country. I will
have to seeing as I ate nothing deep fried, and didn't even get
to peek up a kilt (so much to is left to do!!)!
So much else happened which I either can't remember, are inside
jokes, or I prefer not to divulge! It was a great trip, so fun
to hang out with Norah who is one of the funnest people on the
face of the earth! I hope I can return the favour when she comes
to visit me in a couple of weeks. Maybe I will get her to do a
guest spot on the site. Hope everyone is well, and I will update
you all soon on my trip to Barcelona (I'm leaving on Thursday!).
Cheers! |
