I was trying so hard to stay awake. We were about 30 minutes away from the English border, and I wanted to be at least semi-conscious when we left Scotland. I wanted to savor those last few moments of Scottishness (that’s not a word, sorry) because there was no guarantee that I would ever come here again. After feeling sad about that for a few minutes, I had a crazy idea.
I could live here, I thought. Grandma said European countries always need English teachers. After college, I’ll move to Edinburgh and get a job at that English school on the Royal Mile. I don’t need a fancy house; I’ll rent one of those apartments above the shops on the Royal Mile, and since I’d be able to walk to work, I wouldn’t need a car. Since I’d be paying rent, not a mortgage, and I wouldn’t have a car payment, it wouldn’t matter that I would probably make next to no money.
Then I realized that there were three problems with this plan: 1. It would matter that I’d make no money, because then I could never come back to visit, 2. I’d be living in a city where it can be 70 degrees one minute and 50 and raining the next, and 3. I wouldn’t be able to understand anyone’s Scottish accent.
Oh well. I tried.
I was awake when we crossed into England. I had been resting my eyes, but then Pa said, “Entering England!” and I woke up just in time to see the sign fly by. Unfortunately, between the jolting of the car and the blaring of a super-annoying British talk show, I couldn’t go back to sleep. Instead, I sat there and listened to the idiots on the radio as the 6 hour drive to Stonehenge slowly crawled by.
“There it is,” Pa said, and sure enough, as we drove over that last hill, a circle of giant stones came into view. I couldn’t believe it. To me, Stonehenge was always the picture you saw in National Geographic or in your history book. It didn’t seem like a real thing, and I never in a million years thought that I’d ever get close enough to see the moss growing on the stones.
They were giving out those free audio tour things at the entrance, and even though I’ve always laughed at the people who walk around museums with those things glued to their ears, I decided to be a hypocrite and take one. I figured if I didn’t, I’d just be staring at a pile of stones while everyone around me had some great wisdom imparted on them by a little plastic rectangle.
I think the one thing that left the biggest impression on me was the fact that Stonehenge was built so that the stones lined up perfectly with each other and with the rising and setting sun. There’s a stone a few dozen yards away from Stonehenge, called the Heel Stone, that points straight towards the axis of Stonehenge. On the longest day of the year, the sun rises right behind the Heel Stone and shines through one of the rock archways straight into the center of Stonehenge. The sunset on the shortest day of the year shines through an archway directly across from the one illuminated by the Summer Solstice. Also, you can tell what month it is by which arch the sun’s light shines through. This would have been a pretty complicated thing to do today, but Stonehenge was started in about 2500 B.C. How could they have possibly figured out how to align the circle with the sun? Pa once told me how he believed they did it, and it involved aliens coming down to Earth to help the incompetent cavemen.
I really don’t think that’s it, but now that I’ve publicly dismissed his theory, the aliens are probably going to appear to me and tell me all about building Stonehenge.
We only had an hour and a half of driving left after Stonehenge, so we said goodbye to the rocks and the weird Druid guy standing by the fence with a “Bring Back Our Dead Ancestors” poster and began the final drive to London. Now, even though I’ve given Pa a hard time on this blog about his driving, I’ve got to give him a lot of credit. Driving on the wrong side of the road, on the wrong side of the car, and working a stick shift with the wrong hand is a lot harder than it may seem. And we got here alive, didn’t we?
We had left for Stonehenge early so we could have an extra day in London, but by the time we got there, we were all so exhausted that we ate dinner and went straight to bed. We’re staying in a huge hotel that charges you for just about everything, in a room with a lovely view of the airport parking lot. It’s not fantastic, but it at least it has hand towels (unlike a certain hotel in Portsoy…)! That’s really what counts, right?
Love,
Kiera
Friday, July 31, 2009
London, Day 1
I’ve got to say that the Washington, D.C. Metro is a lot more fun than the London Tube.
Our hotel is about a block away from the Tube entrance, and that station is one of the most confusing things I’ve ever seen. You can get on one train, but then you might have to transfer to another to get where you’re going, and they only stop at this station on Tuesdays and Fridays, and at that one late at night, and if you’re going to Terminal 5 of the airport you get to wait around until a train decides to go there. Pa tried to make sense of it, then finally gave up and said wherever we end up is where we end up.
Quite frankly, it’s a wonder we made it downtown on our first try.
The first exciting thing that happened was that we passed The Ritz Hotel. It had the fancy doorman and everything, and if I tried to go in there in my jeans and North Face, I’d probably get kicked out before I could go three steps.
We should’ve gotten a room there. Of course, then we probably wouldn’t be able to afford food, but seriously, who needs to eat?
I was walking along a bridge thinking about how gross the River Thames looked when suddenly, I looked up, and there it was. Big Ben. It was about 7000 times more impressive looking than it is in postcards and that kind of stuff. I could have looked at it forever.
Or I could’ve gotten Grandma to push me down the stairs at the hotel so I could stay at the hospital with a view of Big Ben and the Parliament House.
We wanted a better view of London, so we went on the London Eye. It’s this ENORMOUS Ferris Wheel that can hold 30 people to a car, and all the sides are windows and you can stand up and move around and take lots of pictures. It didn’t feel like we were that high up, even though you could see over all of London, but when we got back on the ground, I had to tilt my head all the way back to see the top car!
Our next stop was unexpected, but I’m so glad we stumbled across it. We were on our way to Buckingham Palace, and we passed this really cool old building. Pa stopped to examine it, then came to a conclusion:
“I think this is Westminster Abbey.”
We walked around to the front of the building (it took us about five minutes), and, sure enough, it was. It cost thirty pounds for us to get in, but it turned out to be well worth it. It was my favorite stop this whole trip, with the possible exception of Edinburgh. My only complaint was that we weren’t allowed to take any pictures! It’s probably because the flashes would decay all the old tombs and artifacts, but still, it’s kind of tragic.
Westminster Abbey was founded in 960, and housed its first coronation in 1066. Since then, all the English kings and queens have had their coronations there, and many, including Queen Elizabeth I, were buried there. There are also memorials to some famous English writers and composers, and there’s even a memorial for Franklin Roosevelt. I thought the Roosevelt one was really sweet; it said “In Remembrance of Franklin Delano Roosevelt, a friend to freedom and to Britain, elected to US President four times”. The Abbey is huge: The smallest chapel is nearly as big as my entire church, and its lowest ceiling is just as high as our highest.
And now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to be all serious and thoughtful for minute. It was kind of sad seeing all the graves and tombs throughout the Abbey, but it was incredible to think that I was walking down the same corridor that a monk or a king might have in the 1300’s. And while I was there, even though there were these huge throngs of people around me, I felt really peaceful. It’s kind of hard to describe. It was kind of like how you feel just after you’ve confessed your sins, before you’ve gotten an opportunity to do something bad and you feel all holy and clean. Being in that church, among hundreds of peoples’ graves who had loved God and loved their Church, felt like that.
Some people don't believe in God because they need visible proof that He's there, but that feeling is more than enough proof for me.
We saw Buckingham Palace, but we were too late for the changing of the guards. We might try and catch it tomorrow, but we’ve got as busy of a schedule as today. Then we had dinner and I had real London fish and chips in a real London pub! Well, sort of. I had real London fish in chips in a real London Thai restaurant above a real London pub, because people were already drunk at the pub and it wasn’t the best place for a kid to be. And now, we’re relaxing at the hotel, getting ready for our last day in Europe.
Love,
Kiera
P.S. I bet you didn't expect me to get all religious, did you? I can be serious when I want to be! ;)
Our hotel is about a block away from the Tube entrance, and that station is one of the most confusing things I’ve ever seen. You can get on one train, but then you might have to transfer to another to get where you’re going, and they only stop at this station on Tuesdays and Fridays, and at that one late at night, and if you’re going to Terminal 5 of the airport you get to wait around until a train decides to go there. Pa tried to make sense of it, then finally gave up and said wherever we end up is where we end up.
Quite frankly, it’s a wonder we made it downtown on our first try.
The first exciting thing that happened was that we passed The Ritz Hotel. It had the fancy doorman and everything, and if I tried to go in there in my jeans and North Face, I’d probably get kicked out before I could go three steps.
We should’ve gotten a room there. Of course, then we probably wouldn’t be able to afford food, but seriously, who needs to eat?
I was walking along a bridge thinking about how gross the River Thames looked when suddenly, I looked up, and there it was. Big Ben. It was about 7000 times more impressive looking than it is in postcards and that kind of stuff. I could have looked at it forever.
Or I could’ve gotten Grandma to push me down the stairs at the hotel so I could stay at the hospital with a view of Big Ben and the Parliament House.
We wanted a better view of London, so we went on the London Eye. It’s this ENORMOUS Ferris Wheel that can hold 30 people to a car, and all the sides are windows and you can stand up and move around and take lots of pictures. It didn’t feel like we were that high up, even though you could see over all of London, but when we got back on the ground, I had to tilt my head all the way back to see the top car!
Our next stop was unexpected, but I’m so glad we stumbled across it. We were on our way to Buckingham Palace, and we passed this really cool old building. Pa stopped to examine it, then came to a conclusion:
“I think this is Westminster Abbey.”
We walked around to the front of the building (it took us about five minutes), and, sure enough, it was. It cost thirty pounds for us to get in, but it turned out to be well worth it. It was my favorite stop this whole trip, with the possible exception of Edinburgh. My only complaint was that we weren’t allowed to take any pictures! It’s probably because the flashes would decay all the old tombs and artifacts, but still, it’s kind of tragic.
Westminster Abbey was founded in 960, and housed its first coronation in 1066. Since then, all the English kings and queens have had their coronations there, and many, including Queen Elizabeth I, were buried there. There are also memorials to some famous English writers and composers, and there’s even a memorial for Franklin Roosevelt. I thought the Roosevelt one was really sweet; it said “In Remembrance of Franklin Delano Roosevelt, a friend to freedom and to Britain, elected to US President four times”. The Abbey is huge: The smallest chapel is nearly as big as my entire church, and its lowest ceiling is just as high as our highest.
And now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to be all serious and thoughtful for minute. It was kind of sad seeing all the graves and tombs throughout the Abbey, but it was incredible to think that I was walking down the same corridor that a monk or a king might have in the 1300’s. And while I was there, even though there were these huge throngs of people around me, I felt really peaceful. It’s kind of hard to describe. It was kind of like how you feel just after you’ve confessed your sins, before you’ve gotten an opportunity to do something bad and you feel all holy and clean. Being in that church, among hundreds of peoples’ graves who had loved God and loved their Church, felt like that.
Some people don't believe in God because they need visible proof that He's there, but that feeling is more than enough proof for me.
We saw Buckingham Palace, but we were too late for the changing of the guards. We might try and catch it tomorrow, but we’ve got as busy of a schedule as today. Then we had dinner and I had real London fish and chips in a real London pub! Well, sort of. I had real London fish in chips in a real London Thai restaurant above a real London pub, because people were already drunk at the pub and it wasn’t the best place for a kid to be. And now, we’re relaxing at the hotel, getting ready for our last day in Europe.
Love,
Kiera
P.S. I bet you didn't expect me to get all religious, did you? I can be serious when I want to be! ;)
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Do You Want to Get in the Moat?
It was going to be an exciting day. Even almost all of it was going to be spent driving, we had one stop that would make it very worthwhile: Urqhart (I'm 98% sure that is NOT how you spell it) Castle, which was positioned right over Loch Ness! Sadly, as we drove alongside the Loch on our way to the castle, I did not see the Loch Ness Monster, no matter how hard I looked. I don't even think she exists.
Urqhart Castle was not the huge, impressive fortress I had imagined. Well, it was probably huge and impressive once, before the people who lived there, threatened by invaders, blew it up. Now all that is left is stone ruins that you can climb and and take pictures of. Still, it's a fabulous location, on a hill overlooking Loch Ness.
We started by watching a short movie on the history of the castle. It was a fortress and a residence for Scottish nobility before it was destroyed 350 years ago. Many different clans and nobles lived there, until the last residents set fire to gunpowder and made the castle explode.
After the movie we walked outside and down the hill to see the ruins. Honestly, the location was more interesting than the castle, because all that was left was the outer walls. What was much cooler was the fact that it was positioned on a hill overlooking Loch Ness. I would have loved to live in such a beautiful place.
We weren't there for very long before we decided to leave, but on our way out, Pa decided to take Grandma and my picture. He got a nice one of us with the castle in the background, and then he asked:
"Do you want to get in the moat?"
We stood there for a moment, not knowing what he was talking about. Then it hit us: He wanted us to stand in the bottom of the dried-up moat so that he could take our picture.
"No!" We cried simeltaneously.
"There's a sign right there that says 'Do not leave path'!" I protested.
"All right! All right!" Pa said, and proceeded to step over the sign and wander towards the moat.
I had warned him. If he fell in, I sure wouldn't be helping him.
We drove for about ten million hours after that, on the lookout for a little town called Lockerbie. We were going to be staying at an ancient hotel there, which, unfortunately, did not have an address. This confused Roz, and she wasn't able to get to the hotel. It was 21:30 (UK goes by a 24 hr clock. 21:30 means 9:30) by the time we got our luggage up to our room and set out into downtown for dinner. By then, all the restaurants were closed except for the takeouts. Pa went to one store to get fish and chips while Grandma and I wandered into another to order pizza. It was empty except for us and the two Spanish guys behind the counter, and they were taking forever to get our pizza. It was dark and scary in there, and nobody was on the street to save us if one of them emerged from the kitchen with a butcher knife. That is, until a group of college guys came bursting in on a quest for kebabs. I figured they would keep us from being murdered.
That night was our last in Scotland. The next day we would be getting up early and going to Stonehenge, and then arriving at our final destination of London in the afternoon. Of course, that was assuming we didn't wind up with the car flipped over in a ditch first!
Love,
Kiera
Urqhart Castle was not the huge, impressive fortress I had imagined. Well, it was probably huge and impressive once, before the people who lived there, threatened by invaders, blew it up. Now all that is left is stone ruins that you can climb and and take pictures of. Still, it's a fabulous location, on a hill overlooking Loch Ness.
We started by watching a short movie on the history of the castle. It was a fortress and a residence for Scottish nobility before it was destroyed 350 years ago. Many different clans and nobles lived there, until the last residents set fire to gunpowder and made the castle explode.
After the movie we walked outside and down the hill to see the ruins. Honestly, the location was more interesting than the castle, because all that was left was the outer walls. What was much cooler was the fact that it was positioned on a hill overlooking Loch Ness. I would have loved to live in such a beautiful place.
We weren't there for very long before we decided to leave, but on our way out, Pa decided to take Grandma and my picture. He got a nice one of us with the castle in the background, and then he asked:
"Do you want to get in the moat?"
We stood there for a moment, not knowing what he was talking about. Then it hit us: He wanted us to stand in the bottom of the dried-up moat so that he could take our picture.
"No!" We cried simeltaneously.
"There's a sign right there that says 'Do not leave path'!" I protested.
"All right! All right!" Pa said, and proceeded to step over the sign and wander towards the moat.
I had warned him. If he fell in, I sure wouldn't be helping him.
We drove for about ten million hours after that, on the lookout for a little town called Lockerbie. We were going to be staying at an ancient hotel there, which, unfortunately, did not have an address. This confused Roz, and she wasn't able to get to the hotel. It was 21:30 (UK goes by a 24 hr clock. 21:30 means 9:30) by the time we got our luggage up to our room and set out into downtown for dinner. By then, all the restaurants were closed except for the takeouts. Pa went to one store to get fish and chips while Grandma and I wandered into another to order pizza. It was empty except for us and the two Spanish guys behind the counter, and they were taking forever to get our pizza. It was dark and scary in there, and nobody was on the street to save us if one of them emerged from the kitchen with a butcher knife. That is, until a group of college guys came bursting in on a quest for kebabs. I figured they would keep us from being murdered.
That night was our last in Scotland. The next day we would be getting up early and going to Stonehenge, and then arriving at our final destination of London in the afternoon. Of course, that was assuming we didn't wind up with the car flipped over in a ditch first!
Love,
Kiera
Fraserburgh
We had to get up unreasonably early again the next day so that we could make it from Portsoy to Fraserburgh by 9:30. It was the day that we would be touring Fraserburgh Castle, which has belonged to Clan Fraser for centuries. The Lady Saltoun's daughter, the daughter's husband, and their two nearly-grown children all live in the castle just outside of town. The couple offered tours of their home, so that morning I found myself trooping across a pristine lawn and knocking on the front door of an ancient castle. The daughter's husband was going to be our guide, and I was expecting him to be as scary and important-looking as his mother-in-law. Turns out, I was wrong! He was so kind, and he didn't even seem to mind that we were invading his house and taking pictures and generally being the stereotypical American tourists. I was impressed that he knew so much about the castle just off the top of his head. While we stood on the roof and looked over the land, he was able to recite the history of Fraserburgh Castle from 1200 to the 1970's. Then he took us through the interior and showed us all the rooms (they have 13 bedrooms!!), and pointed out the centuries old stonework and walled up staircases. We went down into the basement, which might have been a dungeon 600 years ago but is now a playroom-turned-storage area.
I was insanely jealous of those kids.
Another cool thing about the castle was that there were hand-done paintings of Frasers lining every hallway. They weren't done by famous painters, but the older ones had to be really valuable. And for each painting of a Fraser, the husband knew the story of the subject's life. If I lived there, I could never remember all of that!
Of course, if I lived there, I probably wouldn't be able to remember where the front door was, either.
We thanked the couple about a million times, and then we hit the road again. And we drove. And drove. And drove. Until FINALLY we reached Inverness, where we had reservations at the Fraser Hotel. All the rooms are starting to run together in my head, but I think it was pretty nice. At about nine, we set out in search of a restaurant. We figured that no one would be eating dinner at nine on a Tuesday night. Boy, were we wrong! Every single place we went into had about a 20 minute wait, until finally we wound up at Pizza Express. Yeah, I came all the way to Scotland to eat pizza.
We had a long day of driving ahead of us, and I was really looking forward to getting even closer to England, so I quickly drifted off to sleep. Another day of driving, and I still wasn't dead. I might actually get out of here alive.
Love,
Kiera
I was insanely jealous of those kids.
Another cool thing about the castle was that there were hand-done paintings of Frasers lining every hallway. They weren't done by famous painters, but the older ones had to be really valuable. And for each painting of a Fraser, the husband knew the story of the subject's life. If I lived there, I could never remember all of that!
Of course, if I lived there, I probably wouldn't be able to remember where the front door was, either.
We thanked the couple about a million times, and then we hit the road again. And we drove. And drove. And drove. Until FINALLY we reached Inverness, where we had reservations at the Fraser Hotel. All the rooms are starting to run together in my head, but I think it was pretty nice. At about nine, we set out in search of a restaurant. We figured that no one would be eating dinner at nine on a Tuesday night. Boy, were we wrong! Every single place we went into had about a 20 minute wait, until finally we wound up at Pizza Express. Yeah, I came all the way to Scotland to eat pizza.
We had a long day of driving ahead of us, and I was really looking forward to getting even closer to England, so I quickly drifted off to sleep. Another day of driving, and I still wasn't dead. I might actually get out of here alive.
Love,
Kiera
His Thoughts Are And Vain
It's not fair that's it's only 8:30 and I've been up for two hours, Was how my third grumpy thought of my vacation went. We were driving around in circles, trying to get out of Edinburgh, and so far we were having no luck. Edinburgh has some of the worst traffic I've ever seen, and driving on the opposite side of the road didn't help much. Worst of all, Roz was being entirely unhelpful, although that wasn't really her fault, considering that half the streets weren't labeled. An hour after we left our hotel, we made it out of the city limits and were on our way south. The plan is to slowly make our way to London, which was where we're flying out of on Sunday. We had several stops along the way, including Stonehenge, Fraserburgh Castle, and Betty and Johnny's house.
At that time, I didn't really know who Betty and Johnny were. In fact, the only thing sI knew about them were that they were friends of Grandpa Simpson and had the key to the cemetery where one of Pa's ancestors was buried. Well, that and the fact that they didn't know we would be visiting today. What if they weren't home? What if they didn't believe who we were and told us to leave? All we had was a letter from Grandpa Simpson telling them who we were and why we were there. But I wasn't terribly concerned with that when we were just outside Edinburgh. I was more worried that I would die a fiery death before I got within a 250 mile radius of their house.
Pa was still uncomfortable with driving a stick shift on the opposite side of the road, and for most of that first day we were either dangerously close to flipping into a ditch, dangerously close to crossing over the line into oncoming traffic, shifting into the wrong gear and killing the engine in the middle of the road, or putting the car in reverse when it was supposed to be in drive. Grandma was freaking out. Pa was swearing. Roz was laying abandoned on Grandma's lap. I decided to use my favored defense mechanism of falling asleep, hoping that at least if things didn't get better I would die my fiery death before I woke up. It was difficult, but I managed to keep my eyes closed through all the jolting and sharp turns, through the poor car's rumblings and Grandma's gasps of terror. As time went on, I could feel myself drifting off. I was so close to being asleep. I figured that in just another minute, I would be numb to the impending doom around me.
Rumblerumblerumble.
I wasn't concerned. Pa was probably too close to the shoulder again. I kept my eyes shut.
Gasp!
I still wasn't concerned. This was all Grandma had been saying for an hour. I kept my eyes shut. But then¾
BAM!
The car gave a huge jolt, and my eyes shot open. You know those strips of grass and concrete that separate an exit from a freeway? The car's front tire were marooned on the grass. I assumed that Pa had decided to take the exit, then changed his mind, too late, and tried to veer away. Before I knew it, he was out of the car and was sprinting down the grass, trying to read the sign. I waited until he was safely in the car and the car was safely on the road before shutting my eyes again.
And then we drove. And drove. And jolted into the shoulder about a thousand times. It seemed like we'd been on the road forever by the time we turned down a country road in the middle of nowhere and pulled into Betty and Johnny's house. I really hoped that they were there!
They were home, and they looked utterly shocked. I wondered if they thought we were going to rob them.
Because every pair of 60 year old bank robbers brings their 13 year old granddaughter to rob a house at three in the afternoon.
It didn't take Betty very long to guess that Pa was Grandpa Simpson's son, and after reading his letter, she and Johnny invited us in for tea. It turned out that they'd had guests who had left just minutes before we'd shown up. We drank tea and talked for awhile, and I learned that they were good friends of Grandpa Simpson who met him when he came to Scotland to trace his ancestors, and that they had even visited him in Virginia. Then Betty offered to take us up to the cemetery were Pa's ancestor is buried (if my math is right, he's my great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather), the house he lived in, and the farm where he worked as a gardener.
The cemetery turned out to be unlocked, so we could just walk right in. Betty told us that when Grandpa Simpson first came here, the grave was broken in half. However, she had paid to have it put back together again. When we found the grave, it was still in one piece, although some of it was illegible.
The ancestor turned out to be James Simpson, who died in 1829 at the age of 90. He had a wife, Elizabeth, who was a maid at a local farm. We could read most of the grave, except for an inscription at the bottom. We left without figuring out what it said, and made our way to James' house.
It might have been a cute little house once, but now the wood was rotting and dilapidated. I was amazed that it was still standing after all those decades. It lay in a big field surrounded by farmland as far as the eye could see, which Betty said probably belonged to one man. We also went to the farm where he gardened, and later met his wife, a maid. It was still in pretty good condition, although the plants were really overgrown.
It was time to go back to Betty and Johnny's house, so we could be on our way. Right after we got there, they began trying to give us multiple gifts. No matter how many times we refused and said that they had already done enough, they kept insisting until we finally accepted the set of Edinburgh china, the shortbread, and a five pound note. We the line, however, when Betty said she wanted to wash our car for us! We exchanged addresses, and then they watched as we pulled out of their driving, smiling and waving the whole time.
Before we left The Middle Of Nowhere, we had one loose end to tie up: Pa was dying to find out what the last inscription on his ancestor's cemetery said. So we drove back up there and tried to make out the fancy script. Between the three of us, we managed to figure it out:
The life of a man does quickly fade
His thoughts are and vain
His days are like a flying shade
Of whose short stay no sign remains
We didn't get why the second line said are and vain, but we figured it was a typo. Or maybe it was because they just talked funny back then.
It was time to move along to Portsoy, a little harbor town where we would be staying for the night. It was founded in 1550, and is famous for its marble. It was a beautiful little place, the hotel was nice, and it didn't rain the entire time we stayed there. What more could you ask for?
Aside from a little fiasco where we were locked out of our hotel (and I don't mean our room¾ the front door of the hotel was locked), Portsoy was both pleasant and uneventful. I was looking forward to the next day, when we got to tour Fraserburgh Castle. And I was even starting to enjoy the car rides now that there was a better chance of living then dying when we pulled out of a parking lot (I'm just kidding, of course. Or maybe I'm just saying that so my parents will let me go places alone with my grandparents after this...). Grandma was still terrified when ever we got to close to the line, but hey, we're making progress!
Love,
Kiera
At that time, I didn't really know who Betty and Johnny were. In fact, the only thing sI knew about them were that they were friends of Grandpa Simpson and had the key to the cemetery where one of Pa's ancestors was buried. Well, that and the fact that they didn't know we would be visiting today. What if they weren't home? What if they didn't believe who we were and told us to leave? All we had was a letter from Grandpa Simpson telling them who we were and why we were there. But I wasn't terribly concerned with that when we were just outside Edinburgh. I was more worried that I would die a fiery death before I got within a 250 mile radius of their house.
Pa was still uncomfortable with driving a stick shift on the opposite side of the road, and for most of that first day we were either dangerously close to flipping into a ditch, dangerously close to crossing over the line into oncoming traffic, shifting into the wrong gear and killing the engine in the middle of the road, or putting the car in reverse when it was supposed to be in drive. Grandma was freaking out. Pa was swearing. Roz was laying abandoned on Grandma's lap. I decided to use my favored defense mechanism of falling asleep, hoping that at least if things didn't get better I would die my fiery death before I woke up. It was difficult, but I managed to keep my eyes closed through all the jolting and sharp turns, through the poor car's rumblings and Grandma's gasps of terror. As time went on, I could feel myself drifting off. I was so close to being asleep. I figured that in just another minute, I would be numb to the impending doom around me.
Rumblerumblerumble.
I wasn't concerned. Pa was probably too close to the shoulder again. I kept my eyes shut.
Gasp!
I still wasn't concerned. This was all Grandma had been saying for an hour. I kept my eyes shut. But then¾
BAM!
The car gave a huge jolt, and my eyes shot open. You know those strips of grass and concrete that separate an exit from a freeway? The car's front tire were marooned on the grass. I assumed that Pa had decided to take the exit, then changed his mind, too late, and tried to veer away. Before I knew it, he was out of the car and was sprinting down the grass, trying to read the sign. I waited until he was safely in the car and the car was safely on the road before shutting my eyes again.
And then we drove. And drove. And jolted into the shoulder about a thousand times. It seemed like we'd been on the road forever by the time we turned down a country road in the middle of nowhere and pulled into Betty and Johnny's house. I really hoped that they were there!
They were home, and they looked utterly shocked. I wondered if they thought we were going to rob them.
Because every pair of 60 year old bank robbers brings their 13 year old granddaughter to rob a house at three in the afternoon.
It didn't take Betty very long to guess that Pa was Grandpa Simpson's son, and after reading his letter, she and Johnny invited us in for tea. It turned out that they'd had guests who had left just minutes before we'd shown up. We drank tea and talked for awhile, and I learned that they were good friends of Grandpa Simpson who met him when he came to Scotland to trace his ancestors, and that they had even visited him in Virginia. Then Betty offered to take us up to the cemetery were Pa's ancestor is buried (if my math is right, he's my great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather), the house he lived in, and the farm where he worked as a gardener.
The cemetery turned out to be unlocked, so we could just walk right in. Betty told us that when Grandpa Simpson first came here, the grave was broken in half. However, she had paid to have it put back together again. When we found the grave, it was still in one piece, although some of it was illegible.
The ancestor turned out to be James Simpson, who died in 1829 at the age of 90. He had a wife, Elizabeth, who was a maid at a local farm. We could read most of the grave, except for an inscription at the bottom. We left without figuring out what it said, and made our way to James' house.
It might have been a cute little house once, but now the wood was rotting and dilapidated. I was amazed that it was still standing after all those decades. It lay in a big field surrounded by farmland as far as the eye could see, which Betty said probably belonged to one man. We also went to the farm where he gardened, and later met his wife, a maid. It was still in pretty good condition, although the plants were really overgrown.
It was time to go back to Betty and Johnny's house, so we could be on our way. Right after we got there, they began trying to give us multiple gifts. No matter how many times we refused and said that they had already done enough, they kept insisting until we finally accepted the set of Edinburgh china, the shortbread, and a five pound note. We the line, however, when Betty said she wanted to wash our car for us! We exchanged addresses, and then they watched as we pulled out of their driving, smiling and waving the whole time.
Before we left The Middle Of Nowhere, we had one loose end to tie up: Pa was dying to find out what the last inscription on his ancestor's cemetery said. So we drove back up there and tried to make out the fancy script. Between the three of us, we managed to figure it out:
The life of a man does quickly fade
His thoughts are and vain
His days are like a flying shade
Of whose short stay no sign remains
We didn't get why the second line said are and vain, but we figured it was a typo. Or maybe it was because they just talked funny back then.
It was time to move along to Portsoy, a little harbor town where we would be staying for the night. It was founded in 1550, and is famous for its marble. It was a beautiful little place, the hotel was nice, and it didn't rain the entire time we stayed there. What more could you ask for?
Aside from a little fiasco where we were locked out of our hotel (and I don't mean our room¾ the front door of the hotel was locked), Portsoy was both pleasant and uneventful. I was looking forward to the next day, when we got to tour Fraserburgh Castle. And I was even starting to enjoy the car rides now that there was a better chance of living then dying when we pulled out of a parking lot (I'm just kidding, of course. Or maybe I'm just saying that so my parents will let me go places alone with my grandparents after this...). Grandma was still terrified when ever we got to close to the line, but hey, we're making progress!
Love,
Kiera
The Gathering, Day 2
It was 8:30, and no one was up yet. I thought this was sort of weird, considering that Grandma is definitely an early riser, but then I realized that maybe our plan for today was sleeping in and I just wasn't informed. So I crawled back under the covers with a movie on my iPod, thinking that it was nice to be able to sleep in.
An hour later, I heard Grandma proclaim something along the lines of, "9:30!? It can't be!" Pa lept out of bed, threw some clothes on, and ran down to the complimentary breakfast, which ended in ten minutes. I figured that a cup of yogurt and some cereal were not worth the effort it would have taken to get ready and get down there. So I got online to check my email, deciding that if I did a blog entry at 9:30 in the morning every other word would be misspelled and none of it would make any sense. I wondered how I ever got by in school.
We didn't end up leaving for the Gathering until 12:30, which was perfectly fine because we had seen most of what was there the day before. The first thing we did was go to the Heritage Tent so Grandma could get her DNA tested. This supposedly would tell you who your ancestors were. Pa had done it yesterday, and now he thought it would be nice if Grandma and I did it. Grandma and I had agreed back at the hotel that it would just be a waste of time for me to have it done; since I didn't have a Scottish last name they wouldn't be able to look me up in their database. We decided it might be interesting for Grandma to do it, though, because her father was adopted by a Scottish family and took their last name, Hume, but he really came from a different Scottish clan. However, when we got to the tent, the guy there told us that her brother, Uncle Dick, was the one who needed to be tested because it was only the X chromosome that could tell him anything. Well, we tried. And we saved 119 pounds in testing fees.
After that, we wandered around a little while until it was time for Pa to run in his race. He was participating in the Nairn's Oatcakes Hill Race, which was a race where you had to run up a giant hill (it was more like a small mountain), go around, run back down, and do it all over again. Best of all, Pa was wearing a pair of shorts that had the Fraser tartan sewn onto it! Grandma had made it especially for him, and it was pretty awesome. Out of all the runners, he was the only one who had shorts with his clan tartan.
It looked like it was going to rain by the time the race started, and our feet were killing us, so after Pa started, Grandma and I found a picnic bench, put our hoods up, and waited for Pa to come back to start his second lap. We figured we had at least half and hour before they completed one lap, since that hill was so grueling. But after the time was up, and we headed back to the starting line, we discovered that Pa had already finished! We felt so bad that we couldn't be there when he ran across the finish line, even though Pa said it was okay. He said he did pretty well, though, and he had made a new friend from the Fraser clan who was running also.
We ate lunch, watched the stone putting finals, and saw a pipe band play, and by then we decided we'd had enough. As we were heading out, Pa had his sights on a hill next to the one he had run up. I was up for climbing it with him, so Grandma basically had no choice but to agree. When we got to the top, it was phenomenal! We could see over all of Edinburgh from up there! There were miles and miles of old houses and churches, and the sounds of bagpipes drifted towards us from the Gathering.
I could have stayed up there forever..
We went out to dinner afterward, and then we went back to the hotel to pack. It was a good end to our time in Edinburgh, but I was a little sad, because as we walked down the street, I wondered if I would ever see Edinburgh again. But hey, anything's possible, right?
Love,
Kiera
An hour later, I heard Grandma proclaim something along the lines of, "9:30!? It can't be!" Pa lept out of bed, threw some clothes on, and ran down to the complimentary breakfast, which ended in ten minutes. I figured that a cup of yogurt and some cereal were not worth the effort it would have taken to get ready and get down there. So I got online to check my email, deciding that if I did a blog entry at 9:30 in the morning every other word would be misspelled and none of it would make any sense. I wondered how I ever got by in school.
We didn't end up leaving for the Gathering until 12:30, which was perfectly fine because we had seen most of what was there the day before. The first thing we did was go to the Heritage Tent so Grandma could get her DNA tested. This supposedly would tell you who your ancestors were. Pa had done it yesterday, and now he thought it would be nice if Grandma and I did it. Grandma and I had agreed back at the hotel that it would just be a waste of time for me to have it done; since I didn't have a Scottish last name they wouldn't be able to look me up in their database. We decided it might be interesting for Grandma to do it, though, because her father was adopted by a Scottish family and took their last name, Hume, but he really came from a different Scottish clan. However, when we got to the tent, the guy there told us that her brother, Uncle Dick, was the one who needed to be tested because it was only the X chromosome that could tell him anything. Well, we tried. And we saved 119 pounds in testing fees.
After that, we wandered around a little while until it was time for Pa to run in his race. He was participating in the Nairn's Oatcakes Hill Race, which was a race where you had to run up a giant hill (it was more like a small mountain), go around, run back down, and do it all over again. Best of all, Pa was wearing a pair of shorts that had the Fraser tartan sewn onto it! Grandma had made it especially for him, and it was pretty awesome. Out of all the runners, he was the only one who had shorts with his clan tartan.
It looked like it was going to rain by the time the race started, and our feet were killing us, so after Pa started, Grandma and I found a picnic bench, put our hoods up, and waited for Pa to come back to start his second lap. We figured we had at least half and hour before they completed one lap, since that hill was so grueling. But after the time was up, and we headed back to the starting line, we discovered that Pa had already finished! We felt so bad that we couldn't be there when he ran across the finish line, even though Pa said it was okay. He said he did pretty well, though, and he had made a new friend from the Fraser clan who was running also.
We ate lunch, watched the stone putting finals, and saw a pipe band play, and by then we decided we'd had enough. As we were heading out, Pa had his sights on a hill next to the one he had run up. I was up for climbing it with him, so Grandma basically had no choice but to agree. When we got to the top, it was phenomenal! We could see over all of Edinburgh from up there! There were miles and miles of old houses and churches, and the sounds of bagpipes drifted towards us from the Gathering.
I could have stayed up there forever..
We went out to dinner afterward, and then we went back to the hotel to pack. It was a good end to our time in Edinburgh, but I was a little sad, because as we walked down the street, I wondered if I would ever see Edinburgh again. But hey, anything's possible, right?
Love,
Kiera
Sunday, July 26, 2009
The Gathering, Day 1
"Do you know where Holyrood Park is?" Pa asked a passerby.
"Uh, yeah, it's down at the other end of the Royal Mile,"
Grandma and I groaned.
It wasn't even nine o'clock, and already we were lost.
We had gotten up early so we could get to the Gathering on time, which was a good thing, because we had gone to Edinburgh Castle, way up at the top of the Royal Mile, only to find out we had to go all the way back down again. I didn't mind, though, because it's a really pretty walk. All the old buildings and churches are really old and cool, and along the way we were looking in the windows of the shops. I was amazed at one store we came to that said Edinburgh Trading Company - Established 1320. The highlight of the walk, however, is when a complete stranger ran up to Pa and asked to take a picture with him. So there he was, standing in the middle of the sidewalk in his kilt, taking a picture with a random lady. Grandma said that we could make some good money if we charged people to take pictures with an "authentic Scotsman"
At about 9:30, we had made it down the Royal Mile and into Holyrood Park. The Gathering didn't officially start until ten, but already there was a horde of people flowing through the gates. We flashed the guards our passports and stepped onto the large, grassy field.
I couldn't believe how many people there were already! There must have been at least 1000 roaming the giant park, waiting for everything to open up. We pushed through them and made our way to the main stage. Pa had heard that Prince Charles would be speaking at the opening ceremonies, and he didn't want to miss it.
But when we got to the stage, it wasn't the opening ceremonies. Instead, there were these huge, scary-looking men doing something called "putting the stone". From what I could see, they had to pick up a 22 pound rock and throw it as far as they could. I was more interested in the people sitting next to us. They were Canadian, and from the moment we sat down they were asking us a million questions. Every time a Canadian stone thrower was up, they would leap to their feet and cheer as loud as they could. Every time it was an American's turn, they looked at us expectantly, like we should have been cheering just as loud as they were.
"Yay, America," I said halfheartedly. To tell the truth, I didn't really care if an American could throw a big rock farther than anyone else.
We stuck around for a little while after the putting the stone, but Prince Charles still didn't show up. So we bid our new Canadian friends goodbye and wandered around the Gathering. There was a section of the field called the Clan Village, where each Scottish Clan had set up a tent, but when we got to Clan Fraser, there were a ton of people there, so we decided to come back later. Pa wanted to go whisky tasting, so Grandma and I went to look at the Scottish food. We were inspecting the Chilled Berry Juice tent when a guy in a suit came up to us and said, "If you could just step off the mat for a moment, please," and ushered us onto the wet grass. He moved down the row, shooing everyone off the rubber mat, and that's when Grandma and I realized he was a Secret Service guy. Sure enough, a minute later, a group of important-looking people passed by. Prince Charles wasn't there, so I looked away, but then Grandma said, "Oh! Look!" I looked around to see what she was talking about, and it turned out to be that Prince Charles' wife, Camilla, was standing right in front of us! We could've reached out and touched her if we had wanted to! Grandma and I watched her for a second, but she wasn't very exciting, and besides, both of us smelled something delicious, so we wandered away in search of what was giving off the scent. We soon found it: hamburgers and sausages! Once Pa got back, we ushered him over to the stand, only to discover that the only things they had left were wild boar and apple and pork and leek sausages. Just as I was wondering who would want to eat either of those things, Pa walked up to us with a wild boar and apple sausage. I guess I stand corrected.
After that, we decided to go back to the Fraser tent. This time, no one was there but the Lady Saltoun and her grandson. The Lady Saltoun is like the head of the Fraser Clan. She was an old, frowning lady who looked like she knew just how important she was. Pa went right up to her and started chatting. I sat in a corner with Grandma and hoped that Pa wouldn't make me talk to her.
But of course, he did. He wanted Grandma and me to talk a picture with her, which obviously meant that we had to talk to her. We shook hands, and she said, "How do you do?" I didn't think anyone said that anymore.
Then Pa asked if she and her grandson would take a picture with me and Grandma, and before I knew it we were all standing together as the flash went off. Pa continued to talk with the grandson while Grandma and I wandered off. Pa said later that the grandson was coming to Washington, and that he had offered the grandson to come stay at their house.
I said that didn't think that a Saltoun's grandson who had grown up in a castle all his life would want to come stay with a couple of commoners, but Pa remained convinced.
Soon we'd had enough of the Gathering for awhile, so the three of us went to go walk around downtown and buy gifts for people. Along the way, Pa wanted to take some pictures of us. That was fine, but remember how I said that people in Scotland don't care that you want to take a picture? It took nearly five minutes just to take one picture because people kept walking right in front of the camera. On top of that, each one had to be perfectly zoomed in with the perfect background, so Pa more often than not would miss an opportunity to take a picture because he was trying to zoom in the camera just right. Once, he even made us walk out into the middle of the street onto a little concrete island, and then he stepped into the street to take the picture. Another time, he had us stand in front of a red telephone booth, preventing an old lady from using it. At the Gathering, he had an old man take a picture of the three of us twice because the first time he hadn't gotten the background right. And even though there all these pictures of Grandma and I, so far there only two of Pa.
We went back to the Gathering at around five, and hung out until seven-thirty, when the Clan Parade was supposed to start. The Clan Parade is when everyone at the Gathering gets with their clan and marches up the Royal Mile to Edinburgh Castle. After the March, everyone who took part gets to watch the pageant, which was a play about the history of Scotland. Each clan had its own flag and a sign with their clan name on it. In theory, it should have been easy to find Clan Fraser. But there were about two or three thousand people milling about, and the signs had only been passed out to clans up the letter C. The clans were supposed to be lined up in alphabetical order, but since no one knew where to go, the Hall clan was first and the MacLauchlan clan was in between the Anderson and Armstrong clans. The Fraser clan so far had no flag and no sign, and all its members were MIA.
We pushed our way through the crowd of kilts when finally we saw it: a lady standing in the road wearing the ancient Fraser tartan.
"Frasers?" She asked when we approached. Pa asked her if she knew where we were supposed to be.
"Nobody's given us a sign or told us where to go, and I don't know where everyone is," She answered. "I'm trying to group some Frasers together so they'll give us a sign."
There were four or five other Fraser clan members standing around, and Pa immediately introduced himself and starting chatting with them. The other Frasers seemed concerned that none of their fellow clansmen had shown up.
I thought it'd be kind of funny if there were all these huge clans marching down the street, and then Clan Fraser had seven or eight people.
The ragtag clan snaked its way through the crowd, trying to figure out where it should stand. Along the way,we ran into some more Frasers, and they joined the line of clan members pushing through the horde. By the time we officially found out where we were supposed to be, we were more than twenty strong.
Just when a few old ladies were showing signs of panic, a big white sign was slowly making its way towards us. FRASER, it stated. Another one was right behind it. FRASERS OF LOVAT was its name. Leading both of these signs was a blue flag with three white flowers.
Two event staff members were holding the two Fraser signs, and the flag was being carried by the grandson. Trooping behind them were another twenty Frasers. We still didn't know where the clan was supposed to be, but at least we had a sign. We knew that we were supposed to be in alphabetical order, but the Farquharsons were right in front of us and the Moffats were right behind us.
We were all looking around for Clan Forbes, who we were supposed to be directly behind, when our sign and flag disappeared. They were making their way towards the front of the clans, which was apparently our position. We formed a line tried to follow it, but the crowds wouldn't let us through. Finally, the Fraser at the front of the line made it through the sea of kilts, and the rest of us followed. A middle-aged man from a different clan appeared next to me out of nowhere, also trying to fight his way to the front. He shoved me aside. I shoved him back. I'd like to say that I don't believe in pushing and shoving other people when you're trying to get through. Unless someone shoves you first. Then it's okay.
Finally, we were in the right place, with Fraser behind the Forbes and the Frasers of Lovat behind the Frasers. The horde of people had morphed into a semi-orderly trail. Soon we heard the drums and the bagpipes start up, which meant it was time to move out. Slowly we marched through the courtyard of Holyrood Palace (this is where Queen Elizabeth stays when she visits Scotland) and out to the street. When we turned on to the Royal Mile, I couldn't believe my eyes! It seemed like the whole town of Edinburgh was there to watch the parade! The streets were packed, and there were even some people leaning out their windows! The best part was that some of the people belonged to a certain clan, but weren't in the parade. When their clan passed, they would yell out, "Let's hear it for the Frasers!", and the Frasers in the parade would all cheer. The Fraser clan got a pretty good reception, but the Frasers of Lovat (who, for some reason, are a separate clan from the Frasers) brought down the house. They cheered the loudest, marched the loudest, and got the most cheers from the parade watchers.
"I think all the happy drunks are in the Frasers of Lovat, and that's why everyone loves them," Grandma muttered.
There was a guy in the audience who yelled, "Frasers! The best clan in the world!" We all cheered and waved to him. A few blocks later, he was back! "I love you, Frasers!" He called. "I love you all!" It was almost as good as the ten or fifteen people who were sitting on their second-stort windowsill with their feet resting on the roof of the shop below them and waving their Scottish flags. Honestly, it was kind of weird to have a bunch of strangers cheering for you like you're the best thing they've ever seen just because you belong to a certain clan. It was awesome that they got so excited about the parade. Well, and maybe the people standing outside of the pubs with beers in their hands were just a tiny bit drunk (like the Frasers of Lovat)
We made it up the mile to the Edinburgh Castle courtyard, where there were three huge grandstands slowly being filled by the clans who had completed the mile. We bid goodbye to our fellow Frasers and went up to our seats for the pageant. They were made of plastic, and so close together that I could feel the knees of the person behind me digging into my back for the whole show. This was especially unfortunate for the two overweight women sitting in front of us, who had to take turns sitting on the steps because they couldn't fit into the seats.
We got to our seats at nine, but it didn't start for another hour. I guess this was to give enough time for everyone to get to their seats, since the march was awfully slow. Twenty minutes after we sat down, I peeked down into the street, and they were only up to the Mackays. I sighed, leaned back in my seat, and occupied myself by listening to the lady behind us, who was taking a picture of the family sitting next to her. "I want to remember the people," She was telling them. "The buildings are nice, but I want to remember all the friends I've made."
The sudden booming voice of a lady telling us to turn off our cell pgones made us all jump. This meant that the pageant was starting, though, so I didn't mind much. Withing another five minutes, the actors were all in place, and it had begun. From what I could understand (some of those actors had such heavy Scottish accents that I couldn't understand a word they said), the pageant was about taking pride in your Scottish ancestry no matter where you lived or what happened, and it followed a Scottish family from the 1300's to modern times. I thought it was pretty interesting, but in addition to me not being able to understand them, it was a bit slow and melodramatic at times (but maybe that's just me), and there was something wrong with the sound system, because sometimes the actors would shut their mouths but we could still hear them talking. Despite all these things, I still really enjoyed it, and I was sad when it was over. One thing that was really interesting was Edinburgh Castle itself. It was amazing to think that I was looking at the exact same castle that one of my ancestors might have seen 500 years ago, and nothing about it had changed, at least on the exterior.
It was past eleven by the time we left the courtyard, and we were packed shoulder to shoulder with people trying to get away from the castle. We were stuffed as tight as sardines for a few blocks, until people got into taxis and disappeared down side streets, and we were able to move freely again. We returned the hotel, and the three of us flopped down on our beds and slept soundly for the rest of the night. It was an incredible first day, and we couldn't wait for what was to come!
Love,
Kiera
Friday, July 24, 2009
Roz Saves the Day
"Are you kidding me? I gave them 80 bucks and I got 45 pounds! What a rip-off, eh?"
Although I was disoriented and really, really jet-lagged, I was still able to loudly proclaim everything that was wrong with the world (or maybe just the value of a U.S. dollar). And talk like a Canadian while I was at it.
Although I was disoriented and really, really jet-lagged, I was still able to loudly proclaim everything that was wrong with the world (or maybe just the value of a U.S. dollar). And talk like a Canadian while I was at it.
While Pa was exhanging all our money, Grandma and I were sitting on a bench with all the luggage. A woman in a suit rushed up to us and asked us in a heavy Scottish accent if she could ask us a few questions about our time in the Edinburgh airport. They were pretty standard questions, but as she turned to go away, Grandma called out, "I like your accent!"
She turned back to us, and said, "Oh, I like yours too!" and hurried off.
"I like your accent?" I asked Grandma.
"It sounded so cool! It sounded so Scottish!" She protested.
"Yeah, and that's not a touristy thing to say at all," I replied, but I couldn't say anything more, because Pa returned with their money and my 45 pounds, and it was time to get our rental car.
Even though I hoped and prayed and hoped some more, our rental was not a Nissan Versa. It was a UK car with leather seats and the steering wheel on the wrong side.
"Why do you want a Nissan Versa so bad?" Grandma asked.
"It was on Heroes!"
Grandma just shook her head.
"It's like wanting to fly into Scranton for Jonathan's wedding because of The Office!"
As we talked about Scranton and the wedding and disputed whether or not The Office was funny, Pa loaded in our bags and figured out how to use the car. Not only was the steering wheel on the opposite side, but we had to drive on the opposite side of the road. To top it all off, the car was a stick shift. My contribution to it all was to give Roz the directions to our hotel.
Who is Roz, you may ask? We brought her so that we would never get lost while we were over in Europe. All we have to do is give her an address, and she'll tell us how to get there. Can you guess? She's Grandma's GPS! We named her last year when we driving to Disneyland because after she got us out of this scary little town called Maxwell, we deecided she deserved a name. And so she was christened "Roz" after the slug in Monsters, Inc.
The first 15 minutes or so after we left the airport and headed into the New Town, I was pretty convinced that we were going to get in a car crash. Having to drive on the other side of the road, on the other side of the car, all while using a stick was understandably very hard for Pa, and we had a few minor incidents (we actually hit a tour bus, but it was okay because only our mirror was scraped). Admittedly, we would probably still be driving the streets of Edinburgh if it weren't for Roz and her step-by-step directions. Most of Edinburgh's streets either don't have signs or are hidden on the sides of building, so we had no idea when to turn. Luckily, Roz was there to tell when it was time to turn. Thanks, Roz!
Our hotel was located on Cowgate, in the Old Town. The Old Town is the original part of Edinburgh, and many of its buildings are easily 400 years old. The New Town was built in the late 18th century to avoid overcrowding in the old town, and even though most of its buildings weren't erected until the 1800's, they were all older than anything I had ever seen in Everett! But as we drove down the main road towards Old Town, I kind of wished I could have been here 200 years ago, to see the town without all the roads and cars and modern buildings. I kind of got my wish when we reached Old Town, when the concrete road ended and it was all cobblestone. There were these amazing churches, like the one at the top of the page. Down the street from the hotel, there was one that was built in 1514!
After we got to our room and got settled, we decided to go exploring a little. We set off down the cobblestone street towards the Royal Mile, which is the main road that leads to Edinburgh Castle. Even the shops were in these centuries-old buildings! I wanted to take lots of pictures, but I quickly learned that in Edinburgh, nobody really cared that you wanted to take pictures. People would walk right in front of the camera without even an "excuse me". Pa had a little more success, but I didn't take two thousand pictures like I had wanted to.
A few minutes after we left our hotel, it started to rain. We all had our raincoats on, so we thought it wasn't a big deal. But while we were in a shop, it started to really rain. It rained so hard that you could barely see to the other side of the street. It rained so hard that there was about two inches of water rushing down the sloped road. It rained so hard that we decided that it wasn't worth it to make a run for it, so I stood there in the tartan shop, thinking grumpily that I had left Seattle to escape the rain.
When it had eased to a steady drizzle, the three of us decided to continue exploring. The drizzling eventually dropped off into sunshine, but there was about four inches of water on some of the sidewalks. We walked from Old Town to New Town and back, looking at all the cool old buildings. While we were doing that, we made a great discovery: there was a Starbucks about two blocks from our hotel! We were positive that there were no Starbucks in Europe, but here it was, in a 200 year old building! Grandma and I were ecstatic. I don't think Pa appreciated it as much.
All that walking made us hungry, so we decided to stop for lunch at a nearly-empty Scottish restaurant. An older guy came up and asked us if we wanted drinks. Grandma said no. Pa said no. The guy said, "Okay then," and walked away.
Gee, thanks for asking me.
For a split second, I considered ordering haggis, but I quickly came to my senses. In case you don't know, haggis is a sheep's stomach stuffed with oatmeal and sheep intestines. It's a traditional dish in Scotland, but I thought I would pretty embarrassed if I threw up in the restaurant.
After a lot of walking, Grandma and I went back to the hotel and Pa went to a pub to meet some of the people in his clan, clan Fraser. I it was 6:00 then, and I made it three more hours until I finally fell asleep. I was exhausted and jet-lagged, and I definitely needed it!
Today is the first day of the Gathering 2009. We're almost ready to head out, so I guess I should stop for now.
Love,
Kiera
Twenty-Two Hours
Although I've been through a lot worse, I've got to say that our Scotland trip started off a bit shaky.
We were at the airport in plenty of time. We got our Starbucks. We were sitting there quietly at our gate, reading our books and minding our own business, when those two dreaded words popped up on the reader board at gate B15 - Flight delayed. The Hispanic lady sitting behind the counter told us (in a pretty mangled form of English, in my opinion) that it was just a minor maitenance problem and that everyone would have enough time to make their connections, but the three of us were starting to get a little antsy. We had a two hour layover in Newark, but was that enough?
"We'll have plenty of time," I said this to assure Grandma, but really it was more for myself. "In-" I stopped to look at the clock. "twenty-two hours, we'll be in Edinburgh." (Because of the eight hour time difference, we would leave Seattle at noon and arrive in Scotland at ten a.m. the next day)
But when the lady announced that the plane would be delayed an hour, I begin to doubt the words coming out of my own mouth. Wanting something to complain about, I slammed my book shut and thought grumpily that the lady should talk so other people could understand her.
In the end, the flight was only delayed by a half hour. It was a pretty uneventful journey, except for a major first for me: for the very first time ever, I cracked down and used the airplane bathroom. Every other time I've flown I've been able to wait until we landed, but that day I drank a smoothie, half a bottle of water, and two glasses of Mr. Pibb in a two-hour period. I sat in my seat until I thought I was going to explode, and then I burst down the aisle toward the back of the plane before anyone could steal my bathroom.
As we were about to land in Newark, the pilot came on with another dreaded announcement that went along the lines of, "The fog conditions are too severe for us to land, so we have to fly around for about twenty minutes until it clears up. Sorry if you have a connection."
It was like the universe was doing everything possible to keep us from making our connection.
Ten minutes passed, and just as Grandma was beginning to panic a little, the pilot announced that we could descend. Grandma and I were then immersed in a conversation about exactly how long it would take to get to the gate. By the time we got of the plane, it was 9:30 p.m. Our connecting flight left at 10:15. Could we make it?
Well, I guess the universe changed its mind and wanted us to make it to Edinburgh after all, because our connecting flight was delayed by an hour because of the fog. Relieved, we set off in search of food, since we hadn't eaten since one. Along the way, we passed a mass exodus of Asian kids shuffling from Security to the Boston gate, chattering away in a language none of us could understand. What really mesmerized us was that as soon as we thought that the last one had passed us, more kept coming! It was like every child over the age of ten had come over from Asia and taken over the Newark airport.
"There's another one of those Chinese kids," Grandma murmured to me.
"How do you know they're Chinese?" I asked. "They could be Japanese, or Vietnamese, or South Korean, or North Korean, or Tibetan, or..."
Finally, finally, finally, eleven hours after we boarded our final flight, I was looking out the window at the lush green meadows and forests that made up Scotland. It wasn't until then that it dawned on me...I was really in Europe! I had finally left North America, the continent that I had spent every moment of the last thirteen years on, and I was in a completley new place! It was both exciting and scary at the same time.
You might think that today ended with the three of us going to the hotel and sleeping off our jet lag, but that's not at all how things went. But to keep this from being the longest blog post ever (it already might be) I put the second part of today in a different post. So read on!
Love,
Kiera
We were at the airport in plenty of time. We got our Starbucks. We were sitting there quietly at our gate, reading our books and minding our own business, when those two dreaded words popped up on the reader board at gate B15 - Flight delayed. The Hispanic lady sitting behind the counter told us (in a pretty mangled form of English, in my opinion) that it was just a minor maitenance problem and that everyone would have enough time to make their connections, but the three of us were starting to get a little antsy. We had a two hour layover in Newark, but was that enough?
"We'll have plenty of time," I said this to assure Grandma, but really it was more for myself. "In-" I stopped to look at the clock. "twenty-two hours, we'll be in Edinburgh." (Because of the eight hour time difference, we would leave Seattle at noon and arrive in Scotland at ten a.m. the next day)
But when the lady announced that the plane would be delayed an hour, I begin to doubt the words coming out of my own mouth. Wanting something to complain about, I slammed my book shut and thought grumpily that the lady should talk so other people could understand her.
In the end, the flight was only delayed by a half hour. It was a pretty uneventful journey, except for a major first for me: for the very first time ever, I cracked down and used the airplane bathroom. Every other time I've flown I've been able to wait until we landed, but that day I drank a smoothie, half a bottle of water, and two glasses of Mr. Pibb in a two-hour period. I sat in my seat until I thought I was going to explode, and then I burst down the aisle toward the back of the plane before anyone could steal my bathroom.
As we were about to land in Newark, the pilot came on with another dreaded announcement that went along the lines of, "The fog conditions are too severe for us to land, so we have to fly around for about twenty minutes until it clears up. Sorry if you have a connection."
It was like the universe was doing everything possible to keep us from making our connection.
Ten minutes passed, and just as Grandma was beginning to panic a little, the pilot announced that we could descend. Grandma and I were then immersed in a conversation about exactly how long it would take to get to the gate. By the time we got of the plane, it was 9:30 p.m. Our connecting flight left at 10:15. Could we make it?
Well, I guess the universe changed its mind and wanted us to make it to Edinburgh after all, because our connecting flight was delayed by an hour because of the fog. Relieved, we set off in search of food, since we hadn't eaten since one. Along the way, we passed a mass exodus of Asian kids shuffling from Security to the Boston gate, chattering away in a language none of us could understand. What really mesmerized us was that as soon as we thought that the last one had passed us, more kept coming! It was like every child over the age of ten had come over from Asia and taken over the Newark airport.
"There's another one of those Chinese kids," Grandma murmured to me.
"How do you know they're Chinese?" I asked. "They could be Japanese, or Vietnamese, or South Korean, or North Korean, or Tibetan, or..."
Finally, finally, finally, eleven hours after we boarded our final flight, I was looking out the window at the lush green meadows and forests that made up Scotland. It wasn't until then that it dawned on me...I was really in Europe! I had finally left North America, the continent that I had spent every moment of the last thirteen years on, and I was in a completley new place! It was both exciting and scary at the same time.
You might think that today ended with the three of us going to the hotel and sleeping off our jet lag, but that's not at all how things went. But to keep this from being the longest blog post ever (it already might be) I put the second part of today in a different post. So read on!
Love,
Kiera
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Hi everyone!
It's almost a month in advance, but Pa and I have our blog set up for our vacation in Europe from July 23 - August 3. He, Grandma, and I are flying to Scotland for the Gathering 2009. This is a big meeting with all the Scottish clans that takes place over July 25th and 26th. It includes a Clan Parade, Clan Pageant, Highland games, and the Scottish Festival, just to name a few things. I'll explain more about the many Gathering events later.
Usually I stay at Grandma and Pa's house for a week and a half every July while my parents go to Las Vegas, but this year they announced that they were taking Pa's father, Grandpa Simpson, to Scotland for the Gathering. This coincided with my parents' Vegas trip, and they were getting all stressed out trying to find someplace else for me to stay. However, it turned out that Grandpa Simpson wouldn't be able to make the trip because of his health, so Grandma and Pa would have to go alone. My mom jokingly suggested that they should bring me to Scotland with them, and, much to my family's shock, they agreed! So now I can go to Scotland and England, but on one condition: I need to be Grandpa Simpson's eyes and ears, and tell him about everything that happened. We figured that the easiest way to do this would be in a blog, so now here I am!
Tonight I'm leaving for Canada and Jonathan's wedding. I'll be gone until the 12th, and I don't think I'll be able to get Internet on my laptop, so you probably won't be hearing from me for a while. Once I get back, though, I'll post again with some more information about the Gathering.
Love,
Kiera
It's almost a month in advance, but Pa and I have our blog set up for our vacation in Europe from July 23 - August 3. He, Grandma, and I are flying to Scotland for the Gathering 2009. This is a big meeting with all the Scottish clans that takes place over July 25th and 26th. It includes a Clan Parade, Clan Pageant, Highland games, and the Scottish Festival, just to name a few things. I'll explain more about the many Gathering events later.
Usually I stay at Grandma and Pa's house for a week and a half every July while my parents go to Las Vegas, but this year they announced that they were taking Pa's father, Grandpa Simpson, to Scotland for the Gathering. This coincided with my parents' Vegas trip, and they were getting all stressed out trying to find someplace else for me to stay. However, it turned out that Grandpa Simpson wouldn't be able to make the trip because of his health, so Grandma and Pa would have to go alone. My mom jokingly suggested that they should bring me to Scotland with them, and, much to my family's shock, they agreed! So now I can go to Scotland and England, but on one condition: I need to be Grandpa Simpson's eyes and ears, and tell him about everything that happened. We figured that the easiest way to do this would be in a blog, so now here I am!
Tonight I'm leaving for Canada and Jonathan's wedding. I'll be gone until the 12th, and I don't think I'll be able to get Internet on my laptop, so you probably won't be hearing from me for a while. Once I get back, though, I'll post again with some more information about the Gathering.
Love,
Kiera
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