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

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

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.

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

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