Ah Ye Bonnie Haggis
So here I find myself temporarily residing for the last week or so in Haggistown, the capital of the lovely Land of Haggis. Edinburgh (as it is known to the less immature), I can only describe as being grungily beautiful. The city is divided into the New Town and the Old Town (the Old Town being ‘old’ and the New Town, oddly enough being ‘new’, built to accomodate a growing population) between which run the Prince Street Gardens – once a stinking loch of human waste Im told, now a lovely place for a brisk stroll (just maybe dont be eating the dirt round here).
A mismatch of architectural styles, including but not restricted to Gothic, Classical, Contemporary and which also include other styles that might be Baroque or Renaissance or other things similarly old-sounding that I probably couldnt actually define even if I was forced to stand around in the Scottish winter wearing naught but a kilt and eat haggis. But there’s a real sense of history here, and a beauty that is not quite pure with its steep stairways, age-stained stone and dark archways.
To which of these aspects (the grunge or the beauty) to place the phenomenon of a massive Australian invasion I can not say, but the first few days I was here, I didnt hear one Scottish accent….just that lovely twang of our dear cousins from the north.
I spent the first night in a hostel (or as some, namely me, might call it an Aussiehouse) on The Royal Mile – the road that rolls down the hill from where Edinburgh castle sits royally on a rocky throne of volcanic rock, overlooking the city. Then I moved to a place called Globetotters which is out of town near the bay and with its shop, kitchen, gym, movie room etc is really more like a hotel, or even a town that anything else. I must say Im getting just a little too comfortable here..
My second day I spent wandering with an artist’s content through the four main art galleries of Edinburgh which are all free and therefore meet my budget (the castle at £10 did not meet my budget). The Portrait awards were amazing, and there were some interesting works at the Dean Modern Gallery, the rest as usual kindof all blended into one giant subtle-toned frilly-collared work I imagine might be called Portrait of Someone Royal holding StillLife in Landscape Somewhere Important.
Then after another day or so doing not much except watching helplessly as Edinburgh sucked away my NZ dollars, for some strange reason I decided to do a tour. I was a little apprehensive at first, imagining the worst to be a whisky guzzling, haggis-smearing, booze fest, but I shopped around and found a tour a little off the main backpacker radar that would take me to all the right places for not too wrong a price.
I was not to be disappointed. The tour was a 3day trek through the Highlands and the Isle of Skye run by Wild-inScotland. We set off on Saturday morning, a cosy group of only eight (maximum being 16), and I was relieved to see no obvious haggis-smearers nor obvious whiskey-guzzlers in the lineup. There was a couple from Singapore, an Aussie, two Srilankans, a Glasgowian and another KiwiChristchurchian. All in all a lovely bunch.
Our friendly tour guide drove our un-marked minivan through to Stirling on the first day, where we began our history lesson with the life and times of William Wallace (or Mel Gibson as some of us know him). From Stirling we made our way up the country in the shadow of the mighty Ben Nevis (highest mountain in Britain) and his neighbouring mountains to Signal Rock at Glencoe, the site of the chilling 1692 Glencoe Massacre (Signal Rock being where the signal was given for the English to massacre the town with no mercy).
From here we made our way further North following the Great Glen, past numerous picturesque lochs, learning more about the country, before arriving at our home for the next two nights in Plonkton.
Day two was by far my favourite as we took the Skye Bridge over the the Isle of Skye. The weather was just perfect (still frickin freezing but perfect) with blue skies and fluffy widdle clouds. We visited the main town of Portree for lunch then proceeded to one of my favourite places in the world…the Fairy Glen. The fairy glen is a valley is in the middle of nowhere, a number of grassy mounds surrounding a rocky fairy castle. From the top of the castle theres a great view of the landscape around, nothing but bare rolling land in greens and browns and yellows.
Now to the good part: the Brroownies. The ‘Broownie’ (roll that ‘rrr’) is Scotlands answer to the Irish leprechaun. a mischeivous little person with red hair who likes to run around in a kilt and resides here in the Fairy Glen. Rules for entering the Fairy Glen are: No hands in pockets (or the ‘brroownies’ think youre up to something), No swearing and No taking stuff. As we all know Ive had my fair share of bad luck with a certain Irish leprechaun and I was therefore fairly keen to stay out of this variations badbooks. It was a struggle in the near freezing conditions but I managed to keep my hands out of my pockets and left my notorious potty mouth back in the van. The way the winter evening light fell across the ‘castle’ sitting in the middle of a seeminly untouched natural landscape made the Fairy Glen a truly magical place.
With less than an hour of daylight left we made one last stop to catch the end of the sunset overlooking an area known as the Quiraing. A perfect end to a perfect day. Ahh.
Last day we headed back down the now icy country towards Edinburgh, past the totally scenic Eilean Donan Castle (complete with mirror reflection in the surrounding water) and on to the infamous LochNess. Where I unfortunately failed to see Nessie though I did take a few photos and Im pretty confident if I look closely enough he’ll be there in the background waving a flipper.
I returned to the hostel in Edinburgh feeling energised, having seen a part of this country that cannot be described as anything but awesome – in the true sense of the word. Tomorrow when I leave for Germany I’ll take with me a sense of Scotland’s spirit and history, and a clearer sense of another small part of my own ancestry.
Tags: Travel
Em