Vacation Day Thirteen-Are You Suggesting Coconuts Migrate?

Today I made the pilgrimage that lots of somewhat intelligent, socially inept malcontent teenage boys (and men) dream. I saw the castle where they filmed Monty Python and the Holy Grail. At least, the one at the beginning, with the guards arguing about whether a European swallow could carry a coconut. I think it was also the French castle ("now go away or we shall taunt you a second time"), which Arthur's knights attacked with the wooden chicken ("run away! run away!"). It was on the way from St. Andrews to Callendar, where I took a hike through the Trossachs.

Today was another gray day with lots of mist and later some outright rain. The drive west from St. Andrews would have been fantastic but for the weather. I drove past an RAF base, the towns of Dundee and Perth, and crossed the River Tay. Dundee was surprisingly large, and has a well developed waterfront where people were walking and jogging even in the bad weather. The Tay is quite impressive. It must also be wider than the Mississippi, though I didn't see any maritime traffic. Otherwise, I drove through a lot of fields on a two lane "highway" which featured more and more hills the further west I got. That's because I was headed to the Trossachs, which is a sort of border region between the Highlands and Lowlands. It and Loch Lomond together lie within a national park.

As I drove, I tried listening to the BBC Radio's Gaelic channel. Yikes! Was that ever interesting. And by "interesting" I mean "anesthetizing." I'd listened to RTE Radio, the Irish equivalent, and that music almost sounded like cajun music (replete with accordions). It was pretty lively. And as I wrote when in Galway, the Irish music struck me as being similar to country music. This, however, must have been some sort of Lord of the Rings soundtrack special. Song after song which sounded like Frodo and Sam crawling across Mordor, or the Elf leaders looking disapprovingly at Gandalf and his band of merry woodland folk (those Elves were pretty damn smug for being, well, elves), and Aragorn staring pensively at no one in particular (likely wondering whether he's going to wash his hair this week or next...Aragorn may have been one bad honky mofo, but he sure needed to wash, rinse, and repeat in all three movies). Or that sounded like something playing in a spa reception room.

Before reaching the Trossachs, I detoured to visit Doune Castle, as mentioned above. Its where Monty Python filmed many of the castle scenes. At one time, it was a fairly significant castle, dating from the 1300s, and is still fairly well preserved. Its adjacent to the River Teith. To reach it, I walked through about 400 yards of pasture, which had at one time been a Roman fort. So this is quite an historic area.

The park and surrounding areas include some really spectacular scenery-lochs, mountains, thick rolling forests, glens, moors, and a number of small towns. Ian, the Scottish guy at my Austin barbecue place, just about insisted I go there. Apparently its a pretty popular weekend destination because its very close to both Glasgow and Edinburgh, and features a wide variety of activities (fun for the whole family, as it were). Hiking, horseback riding, mountain biking, fishing, boating...basically just about any kind of outdoors thing you can imagine (not too sure about hunting, this seems to be a fairly PETA-esque country). I was really looking forward to a good long hike. Unfortunately, I had to reach Stirling by 5 to meet the B&B owner, so combined with the time it took to get packed and out of St. Andrews, and the time to reach Callendar (and find the trail, get lunch, etc.) it didn't leave a lot of hiking time.

The "Information Scotland" office, or whatever its called, recommended several hikes around the area of various lengths and difficulties. I chose the "Callendar Crags" trail, with a side hike to see Bracklinn Falls. This trail is described here. Now, I never have been able to describe any of my hikes. It always reads like "and then I saw this stream, and it was totally awesome, and then I hiked awhile and saw a mountain, and it was awesome." Kind of like the Apollo astronauts describing their views ("well, its just really beautiful, really, really beautiful." Good job sending only engineers and pilots on a trip with such cultural and anthropological significance.). But I'll try. Basically the first 45 minutes or so, you go straight up (switchbacks every now and then) through a forest that looks like the home of the Knights Who Say "Ni," appropriately enough. With the rain and the mist, I thought any second now three witches were going to pop up and tell me I'd be King of Scotland. No such luck. At a certain point the trees thinned out some, giving way to ferns and other grasses. At the top of the crags (basically, bluffs), I could tell it would have given a spectacular view of the town and surrounding farmland. Today, however, fog and clouds obscured most of the view. Hiking onward, you have to leave the official trail for a more primitive trail leading to the road that brings you to Bracklinn Falls. This takes you over a lot of exposed rock, which gave me some footing difficulties (Hey Theresa, here's your ground description). This proved the old adage (I think its an old adage) that going up the mountain is not the problem). Today, with footing issues and the steep descent, going down was the problem. It took twice as long going down and coming up. [Feel free to make your own sex jokes here]. At one point, I passed a cairn erected in 1897 to honor Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee. No word on whether Vicky was impressed.

Eventually I got off the crags and onto a one lane road that took me to the trailhead to see Bracklinn Falls. I wasn't expecting much, but you can see from the photos (on my flickr site) these were really impressive. Not in a Nigara or Iguazu Falls way, of course, but they were surging hard through a pretty good size canyon.

Afterwards I trudged back to my car in the town, then back to the B&B. Obviously I'm not in good hiking shape. Too many "Full Scottish Breakfasts" these past few days. Not enough Aragorning it out in the hills.

One final thought for the day...roundabouts are the devil. Here in the USA, we rely on traffic lights, just like God intended (no, really, I think its in 2nd Corinthians). In Brit countries (this was a problem in New Zealand too by the way), when streets cross, they just plop down a roundabout and leave it for everyone to deal with the "who goes next" problem on their own. But if the Brits are good at anything its waiting in line, so this must appeal to their natural sense of no adventure. For Americans like me, however, it makes driving on these two lane roads even more tense, making sure that its ok to get in the roundabout, that you're in the correct lane, and that you exit at the right spot. Hey Great Britain (and Ireland). Here's an outside the box idea. Just, just go with me on this one. Buy some traffic lights. They don't cause cancer or steal your mojo. Then fix all your sinks (see yesterday's post). You are very welcome.

Next-Glasgow, good times capital of Scotland.

Vacation Day Twelve-Remains of the Day and Child Labor Law Violations

Ordinarily I'd blow off the usual logistical hijinks, replete with all the usual airport and airline indignities, but today's adventure was a little unordinary. I had to go to the airport to pick up my rental car. Ordinarily I'd have taken a cab, but two couples on their way to the airport agreed to let me share their van taxi. It was two cousins, a man and a woman, and a married couple. Two of them were from Long Island, the others were from South Florida via Manhattan. All probably in their early 60s. They had been traveling around Scotland for a couple of weeks, and got along pretty famously with the hotel owner. They were having a laugh riot as they exchanged hugs and kisses with the guy (who looks kind of like someone getting ready to riot at a soccer match, or an Oakland Raiders fan). We had a fun time on the way out to the airport, talking about Scotland and other travel adventures, Texas, Long Island, New York, and other places.

From the airport, I drove about half an hour out to Linlithgow Palace. This at one time was the pre-eminent palace of Scottish royalty, including Mary Queen of Scots. It dates back to the 1400s, and is between Stirling Castle and Edinburgh, just off Loch Linlithgow, near the River Forth. Many major state functions occurred here, such as the Scottish Parliament, especially as an alternative to meeting in Edinburgh when plague beset it. The palace suffered a major fire in the mid 1700s which essentially destroyed it. "Destroyed by fire" seems to be a pretty constant theme for these castles. Everything must have been flammable, and with lit candles everywhere and no real means of putting out fires, the risk must have been pretty high. Must have been pretty hard getting insurance on those things. I guess the "insurance" was essentially "make the peasants work harder." Most of Linlithgow's walls remained intact, however. Scotland has preserved it and its in really fantastic shape. One thing unique about it is they let visitors go just about everywhere on the site. I guess since the place is considered ruins, they don't worry about whether Alabama will come over and ruin the place. This is one of the few castles where you can go to the lower levels where the help lived and worked. You can even go to the top of one of the four towers, which has a great view. They've also preserved the grounds in excellent shape, so its a beautiful location. Highlights include the Great Hall, which was the largest hall of its kind of any British palace, and which remains largely intact (well, except for not having a roof or furnishings). Another interesting thing is they operate a program with the local school to have student tour guides dressed in costume. Four of them were leading tours for other school kids when I visited. Now, unquestionably this represents some sort of EU child labor law violation. Are those kids receiving the statutory minimum wage? Are workplace safety rules properly enforced? Have they been accorded the right to unionize? Much to investigate here.

Another problem, none of these castles are ADA compliant. By and large there's no elevators or lifts, no accommodations for the disabled. I'm sure the Obama Administration would shut all these places down for that. Interestingly, I haven't seen anyone wheeling around one of these things in a wheelchair or a walker or the like. They're probably still waiting for treatment from the National Health Service. Today I saw a story in the paper that to reduce emergency room waiting times and meet budgets, the NHS is adopting a new program where people with broken bones cannot receive emergency services. They must schedule an appointment for the next day or later in the week, unless they hurt "very badly." Oh, and killer hospital infections are still a problem. Yeah, national health is working great over here.

From Linlithgow I drove about a couple hours to St. Andrews. St. Andrews University, where Prince William attended college, is located here. Its also the home of the legendary "Old Course" at St. Andrews, the Royal and Ancient Golf Club. That's where golf was invented. That's kind of like saying "here's where the first plague case happened." Those busy bodies still try to exercise some sort of regulation of the rules.

The drive was largely a drive through back roads. I even saw a Gulf station of all things. I'm sorry, but did I somehow drive through 1981? Is Reagan still President? Is there a Shakey's Pizza nearby? I may settle down there.

Once I got checked in at my hotel, I immediately visited the Old Course. Those people aren't screwing around. There's marshals who hold up traffic while players are teeing off. Each foursome seems to have at least one caddy, and generally two. Everyone playing looks like a CEO or Board Chairman. Or some salesman/"senior account manager" type. There's several courses, actually, as demand to play the Old Course obviously exceeds supply. Plus, this way they can keep you here longer than just the one day to play the Old Course. The course is impeccable, it looks exactly like it does on TV, only nicer. It sits right next to the coastline, however, and there's a pretty constant strong wind blowing in from the beach. More than a dozen golf shops line the few blocks near the course, and there's several townhouses and even a hotel right next to the Old Course. Yet, despite the spectacle, all I could think of was the scene in Happy Gilmour where Adam Sandler yells at the golf ball to go to its home.

The golf freaks tend to keep to the Club site and the surrounding environs. When I ran later, I saw a bunch of old guys walking toward the Club, wearing tuxedos, obviously for some sort of dinner. No women in sight, though earlier I'd seen what appeared to be a lot of wives. What exactly do you talk about at a golf dinner? With a bunch of guys. At St. Andrews. Golf, I guess. Or how to get find better help at the mansion. Or how to conceal assets during a divorce. How very Remains of the Day of them.

The remainder of St. Andrews is a nice little college town. The town pretty much consists of the university and related goings on. That is, the university buildings are located all throughout the town. They're in various styles. Some medieval, some more modern. So the whole town is the campus. I walked past the career center, and the staff was outside trying to entice people to come in by singing some sort of career-related songs. Kids are everywhere. Some were wearing red robes like Harry Potter. I thought this was all kind of weird until I remembered it was a Brit establishment. These students look a cut above. They're not the drunken yahoos I observed in Cork. Prince William would have fit right in. Though its a little surprising he didn't go to OxBridge. That guy must have had a line of women about 10 miles long throwing themselves at him during school. It shows character that he picked someone who at least appears fairly classy. And totally hot (though Pippa's better looking). Prince Harry, however....

Anyway, its not all university. The ruins of St. Andrews Cathedral and St. Andrews Castle are located there as well. At one time, before it was destroyed by fire, of course, the Cathedral was one of the largest in the British Isles. Its pretty haunting. Unfortunately, somehow I managed to delete the few pictures I took of it. The castle, however, is just kind of meh.

Around 4:45, I heard bagpipes playing softly in the distance. An appropriate way to wind down the day's travels.

Next-Doune Castle and the Trossachs.

Vacation Day Eleven-Another Day, Another 15th Century Castle

OK, Theresa, today's objective: Stirling Castle. Ground: the high ground near the River Forth, upriver from Edinburgh, the highest point between the Highlands and the Lowlands.

Ah, forget it.

Today its another 15th Century castle. Yawn. Seen one, you've seen them all. Except that this is the one Mel Gibson defended in Braveheart. Except apparently the movie gets a lot of the historic details wrong. Go figure.

Well the previous day's super-fine awesome day has given way to what in Dublin is called a "fine Irish mist." By the time the train is halfway to Stirling, its a flat out rain storm. The train is a pretty great way to go. It would be fantastic if we had them in places other than New York and Chicago. In Austin, we have a train that no one rides. It took about three consultants' reports, six times of being on the ballot, followed by a bunch of court challenges, then construction delays, now it goes from Cedar Park to the east part of downtown. The problem is most people don't live in Cedar Park (or as I like to call it "West Pasadena"). The other problem is what to do once you get to 4th and IH-35. Over here the "town centers" are pretty compact. Once you get off the train, its a quick walk to your building, or you can hop on very dependable busses to get there. And because everything is in the city center, you don't really need your car during the day. Not true in most southern and western cities. The automobile's preeminence has made most Sun Belt cities pretty disparate. A successful train system would require several different inner city stations. Plus, bus service is either a joke, or a good place to get rolled.

Edinburgh has a ring of industrial and commercial facilities surrounding it, which give way to agricultural fields, and small towns. These aren't developed suburbs, they're old towns that the railroad link. It rained all the way to Stirling, and about the first hour I was there.

Stirling Castle occupies a pretty dominant position in Scottish history. It sits on the highest ground, on the River Forth (which runs down to Edinburgh), in a small strategic area between the Highlands and Lowlands. As explained on the tour, every invader that wants to take over the Scottish Highlands has to go through Stirling, and the Castle, by virtue of its high ground and fortifications, controlled everything in the region. So whoever controlled Stirling Castle in effect controlled Scotland. The English and Scots fought over it for hundreds of years.

The place is in really good shape. The government recently completed extensive renovations on the palace and the Great Hall. Both are close to their presumed original condition, c. 1500s. The photos, on flickr, show the vivid colors of the tapestries, wall coverings, furniture, and so forth. The Great Hall, surprisingly, is painted a mustard color. The tour guide explained that all castles used to be this color, because they were covered with a type of plaster with that color tint. The idea was for them to be visible from long distances. Most castles now have a bare stone appearance because the plaster wore away over centuries. At Stirling, they've restored the plaster on the Great Hall. The palace, where Kings and Queens resided, has been spectacularly restored. One feature is the "Stirling Heads," a collection of some 30 carved heads on the King's bedroom's ceiling. Those were copied from the originals, and painted like the originals. They also have a tapestry shop, where weavers make tapestries using original medieval techniques. Four of their works hang in the palace. Other exhibits show the Castle's history, the kitchen operations, and the Stirling Heads gallery. During the renovations, they found two skeletons dating back to the 1500s. Using "CSI" techniques, they created models of the two skeletons' faces as they would have appeared back then. One of them looked like the ticket taker on my train out to Stirling. Which was weird.

One kind of disconcerting thing, which everyone else seemed to really like, is that they have actors playing various roles throughout the castle. They're in period costume, and take the role of someone who would have been at the castle (like a lady in waiting or a herald). They explain what they do, or various parts of the castle, all the while acting as if they're in the 1500s. Very Ren Faire. Reminds me of Ron Livingston in Swingers, who was going to kill for the chance to play Goofy at Disneyland. They address you as "My Lord," as if though you were also in the 1500s. That's ok when its your girlfriend calling you that, but in 2011, its kind of creepy.

After leaving the castle, I walked the trail leading around the castle's base, along the ancient wall. Then back into town to take the train back into Edinburgh.

Once there, it was still daylight so I explored the "New Town" area immediately north of the river. Though called "new," it in fact dates to the late 1700s, when the city started to expand out of the Old Town area. It still retains many of the original Georgian style buildings, which then were townhouses for rich merchants. We experienced a really nice sunset, so it was fun walking around Friday evening as people were starting their weekends. Princes' Street is one of the main retail venues, and it was very busy with pedestrians and vehicles. I also passed the Princes' Street Gardens, at the foot of the hill bordering the Old Town. The gates were locked, but the gardens were obviously lush and well tended.

I got cleaned up, then went back into town (New Town) for Spanish tapas at Cafe Andaluz. Yes, that's right, in Scotland, I went for tapas. I figured I wouldn't have the chance for awhile, so off I went to Cafe Andaluz. It was really good. I had some spicy carne de res with manchego, a seafood stew, and some excellent paella. Not as good as Sevilla Restaurant in the Village, of course, but still good. Interestingly, every male server was sporting a three-day beard, like they were Antonio Banderas. You may look like him, but when you open your mouth you sound like Scotty from Star Trek, so the ladies are going to see through that.

I had a thing about the local news saying there's an excess of red haired sperm donors, but am going to give it up due to the hour. Suffice to say, women are voting with their choices and they don't choose reheads. Sorry reds. Hey! More for the rest of us. Julianne Moore, Angie Everhart, Lucille Ball...not sure what's the point. Sorry Major Applewhite.

Next-Linithgow Palace and St. Andrews.

Vacation Day Ten-Have Fun Storming the Castle

Today was a fast and furious run through the Royal Mile, Edinburgh's main street and site of some of its historic attractions. At either end of the street are Edinburgh Castle, the grandest of Scotland's castles, and Holyroodhouse Palace, the Queen's official residence in Scotland. And all the stuff in between.

Fortunately it was the first absolutely clear day I can remember since I left Texas. Upper 50s, no wind, sunny and clear. It will be raining by the end of the day though.

First we have to deal with these separate hot and cold faucet taps. What the hell is going on there? About 3/4 of the places I've visited have separate hot and cold taps in the faucet. That might not be such a problem, but the hot tap is scalding hot to the point of burning your skin, while the cold is like a glacier lake that causes frostbite. Uh, hey Brits (and Irish). Its not 1940. You don't have to worry about the Jerries bombing your house anymore. We have this valve that will join the hot and cold streams. "Warm" is quite acceptable.

The United Nations has designated the Edinburgh Castle as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Not sure exactly what that means but it sounds impressive. Quebec City is a World Heritage Site too. I think it means its way freaking old. A castle has been on the site since the 1200s, but it keeps getting destroyed by fire or pillaging every couple of hundred years and rebuilt. The present one dates from the 1400s. Its located on the highest point in the city, the site of an ancient (now dormant, hopefully) volcano, giving it views of the entire city. It was the seat of Scottish kings, but now is a military and tourist site. A memorial to Scottish war dead is located in the main square across from the great hall and the old palace. Its a magnificent memorial with stone and stained glass, and lists the name of every Scottish soldier killed in action from World War I onward. The rest of the castle is in fantastic shape and has great exhibitions. They have the Scottish crown jewels, which had been hidden for about 150 years after Scotland and England became Great Britain. They're not as impressive as the British crown jewels at Buckingham Palace, but the Scots didn't have an India where they could steal a bunch of impressive jewels to put in a crown. There's also a Prisoner of War exhibit, which I didn't see because I was pressed for time. I did see the King's residence in the palace, which has been well restored.

Next I went to St. Giles Cathedral, the leading church in the Old Town. Its just down the road from Edinburgh Castle, and dates back to the 1200s. Its the "mother church of Presbyterianism." Its a magnificent place of worship, with amazing architecture. Be sure to check out the photos. Like many other British and Commonwealth churches and towns, St. Giles has an extensive memorial to fallen soldiers who were church members. As with other places, a high proportion of the honored dead were from World War I. Everywhere I've traveled in England, Ireland, Scotland, and New Zealand, you can easily and quickly find World War I memorials. That must have been a horrible war. Just an absolute grinder. No wonder the American generals refused to coordinate with the French and English once we entered the war. All they had proven capable of doing in three years was getting a lot of people killed. That war must have just decimated whole towns everywhere, who would have lost all their young men, no doubt in ill-advised charges into newly developed machine guns, whose deadly nature the Generals obstinately refused to acknowledge. They were using Napoleon's techniques, which they'd studied their entire career, not knowing they were obsolete at least forty years before that.

Most of the rest of the Royal Mile consists of touristy shops, cafes, bars, restaurants, and so forth. There's at least 12 places to buy a kilt., for example. At the other end lies the devolved Scottish Parliament, and Holyroodhouse Palace. I was running out of time, so it was the Palace. But on the way I stumbled across Dumbar's Close, which is just inside an alcove off the Royal Mile. Basically this is a four part Victorian garden, or what my mother would have called a "secret garden." Its a little oasis amid all the Royal Mile craziness. All I can tell you about the Parliament building is that it looks like they built some eight year old's crayon design, or tried to make it look like a macaroni cheese sculpture. Hey architects. Your cool building of today is going to look absolutely ridiculous in about 40 years. Best to stick with something timeless. The Parliament's right across the street from the Palace, which I'm sure was quite intentional. So the Palace it was. Its built on the site of a former abbey, and the ruins are still intact. The palace is huge, but not Buckingham large. Nor is it as uptight and formal. No "changing of the guard," for example. They kept stressing that its a "working palace," which I guess means that they have formal dinners with visiting dignitaries. Or hosting dances. Anyway, kings built the palace because Edinburgh Castle up the way was too cold and windy. Which it is. By Buckingham standards, its a little drab, sort of like it was built in the 1950s and hasn't been remodeled. The palace has really nice grounds, with lots of flowers and planterboxes. Plus, its located right next to Holyrood Park, where I ran yesterday. The palace has great views of the Crags. In the dining room, they displayed some menus for recent dinners. (Is it really a "working palace" when the work consists of showing up at your in-house restaurant all dressed up?). Mostly it was locally produced foods, such as salmon. The audio tour takes you through most of the major rooms, but not the family's living quarters. There's an option to see "The Queen's Gallery," containing selected portraits from the Royal Family's art collection, which I blew off given the time. I'll just view my own family's art collection when I go home.

Next-Stirling Castle

Vacation Day Nine-If Its Not Scottish Its CRAP!

Today's a travel day. I have to go coast to coast, like Allan Iverson on one of his patented one-man fast breaks. All the way from Galway on the west coast, to Dublin on the east. From there I took an Aer Lingus (Irish for "flying bus") quasi-domestic flight to Edinburgh (not the one in the Valley, thank God). Ordinarily I'd have been worried about making it on time, especially because it was such rotten weather in Galway, but ever since I made the Kessel Run in 12 parsecs, I've not had any real concerns about going places fast.

The scene at breakfast was a little weird. The place was filled with women, all of whom looked to be in their late 50s/early 60s, all wearing the same outfit-baggy velour sweat bottoms, a sweatshirt with a cutesy design, a rain jacket wrapped around their waist, and some sort of comfortable shoes. They all had the same haircut and all wore glasses too. Hope it wasn't some suicide cult, eating their last breakfast together. There was only one other guy, and he wanted nothing to do with that scene. Maybe he's the one who has to mix the cool aid.

The long haul went ok. I stopped at a prototype new highway services store, which I think should catch on in the US. It was really nice, and very clean. It had a Burger King, an a la carte buffet, a coffee store, a gas station operation, a kids indoor playground, spacious bathrooms with showers too. I really marveled at the place. Hell, I'd have stayed there over some of the other places I stayed in Ireland if they had a bed. 50 times more pleasant than Buccees.

I totally got BOHICA'd at the Aer Lingus counter. I planned to spell out all the details at length, but I'm just too tired and annoyed to talk about it. Suffice to say, the baggage weight allowances aren't what they are in the US, by a long stretch. The airline people seemed incredulous that I didn't want to just dump some of my possessions in the trash to avoid their cattle prod baggage charges. Now, no question, I packed too much stuff. But I had no idea I'd have to pay so much for it.

Sorry to detour, but Martin McGuinness is running for the Presidency of Ireland. This merits something of a mention, though I'm tempted to write more about this later. Martin McGuinness, for those who've forgotten, was a senior military official in the IRA during the 1970s, and spent several years in prison for possession of explosives and ammunition. Then he joined Sinn Fein, and later became Deputy First Minister in the devolved Northern Ireland assembly. Simply put, this guy's a terrorist. The IRA, which he proudly and happily joined, killed hundreds of innocent civilians whose only crime was being in a public area at the wrong time. The IRA, like al Queda or the Red Army Faction, or the Baader-Meinhof gang, or the PLO, or Islamic Jihad, tried to force political change through a terror campaign against civilians. Its one thing to grant pardons or amnesty as part of a deal to end hostilities. Its quite another thing to elect one of them as President of a sovereign nation. It will be a dark day for Ireland, and civilized man, if that guy wins. Its already appalling that he holds a high government post in Northern Ireland.

Back to the story, such that it is for a travel day. I made it into Edinburgh in the late afternoon. I took a cab to my hotel, then ate a very late lunch at a pub around the corner, then took a bus into the city center. It started to clear, and became an absolutely beautiful day. Crystal clear, temperatures in the mid-50s, crisp breeze. A really welcome relief from the non-stop Irish rain.

I could tell right away that Edinburgh just has a lot more going for it than Ireland. Its a much bigger city, and its got more going on. More business, more people, more activity. If Edinburgh were Dallas or Houston, Dublin would be Brenham. Its divided into the "Old Town" on the heights in the city center, with the Georgian "New Town" below and just to the north. The rest of the city radiates out from there, hitting up against the Firth of Forth, which leads out to the North Sea. Edinburgh has a major university and is the capitol of Scotland (the devolved Scottish Parliament meets in Edinburgh). Its noticeably cooler here than in Ireland as well, something that I've noticed in the few days I've been here before writing this post. Oh, and I can't understand anyone here either, but I understand the Scots even less than the Irish. They sound like people speaking in tongues at some Pentecostal holiday service, or someone possessed by Satan, or Gabby Johnson in Blazing Saddles (the guy who spoke "frontier gibberish"). Then again, even at home, I can barely understand most people. If you don't sound like my family or the people I knew growing up, I'm going to need you to speak more clearly and slowly.

After checking out the town center, I went for a run in Holyrood Park. This is an incredible open space very near Holyroodhouse Palace, the Queen's summer residence. Its got lots of trails and other running spots, and I saw a lot of runners. Its basically a circular park, dominated by the Salisbury Crags (basically, very high bluffs looking southeast toward the sea), and "Arthur's Seat" the highest point in Edinburgh. I ran some of these very hilly trails, and though I was huffing and puffing, the reward was incredible views of the city as the sun set. It killed my foot of course. Can't wait to get back for some PT.

Next-Edinburgh, day two.

Vacation Day Eight-Off to Visit the Quiet Man

This day was another quite full day out in the Irish countryside, so let me get right to it.

Today I had four objectives on my trip through the Connemara region, which is roughly in the center of the Irish West Coast. First was to get to Clifden, which functions as the unofficial regional capital. Second, drive along the Sky Road outside of town, which has incredible views of the inlet leading to the Atlantic. Third, to visit Kylemore Abbey, north of Clifden. Finally, to visit Cong, where John Ford filmed one of my very favorite movies, the 1952 movie The Quiet Man (starring John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara).

My sinus problems seem to have subsided and I'm feeling a little better today. But not as good as the guy at the table next to me at 9:15 a.m. drinking a pint of Guinness. Way to fire up. After all, you can't drink all day if you don't start in the morning. And Guinness IS good for you. But on the other hand, no one seems to look the other way at someone having mimosas during brunch, so maybe its the same.

I'm looking like Walter Sobchak today, from The Big Lebowski. Shorts, t-shirt, a vest, sunglasses. All I need is a bandanna, a bowling ball and a gun and I'd be in business. So as you can tell, I'm really cutting quite the figure out here and representing America. Though when anyone asks where I'm from, I say Texas.

Oh, a couple of more preliminary thing-gas stations are so much better here. The bathrooms are cleaner than a lot of hotel rooms I've stayed in. (I know, "note to self, never go on a trip with Chris Reeder"), and you don't have to pay for your gas before you pump it. In other words, its like 1976 at Irish gas stations.

The other is I heard a story on the radio about the former Bishop of Derry, a fairly important and influential man in Ireland and in the Catholic Church, has come out in favor of allowing priests to marry. He noted that the priesthood is becoming much more gray, and fewer men are entering it. He said lifting the celibacy ban isn't so much about letting priests have sex, but so they can enjoy the companionship of a wife. He said all the studies show that's the main reason priests oppose the celibacy ban. He said he didn't have that problem because he had a "housekeeper" to come home to at night and share his problems with. "Housekeeper"? Uh huh. I had a "housekeeper" too once. It was delightful. Anyway, he said he had been teaching in a seminary when he suggested that the Church study the question. Not change the policy, just study the issue. The head of the seminary brought him into his office and said he was giving him an official warning about suggesting changing the Church's celibacy policies. Nice going! I guess that's Catholicism for you-one guy does all the thinking for everyone. At least the Mormons have a committee that runs the show.

OK, first stop for the day was to visit the ruins of Aughanure Castle castle in Oughtergard. Just before you reach the site, you pass a golf club and extensive course that seemed like it had everyone from a 20 mile radius playing. What is the hold that golf has on some people? Its like heroin or shopping or something. You just can't kick it. You go to greater and greater lengths to get that golfing high, like going all the way to Ireland to play a game you could play at your local track any day of the week. They're like the Viet Cong, or the varmint cong, totally focused on only one thing. Playing more golf. None of them were at Aughanure Castle, which is where the action was today. "Aughanure" means "valley of the yews," as opposed to Valley of the Dolls. Middle Ages soldier used yew wood for a variety of purposes, including to build longbows and use the poisonous leaves for various nefarious purposes. The O'Flahertys built this tower type castle in the early 1500s, and apparently these guys had some really bad intentions. They were quite adept at killing lots of people in war and used the resulting power to throw their weight around. Every floor of the tower served some purpose. The tower was surrounded, as were most castles, by outer defenses. This one had a really cool "murder hole" atop the front door. As invaders would gather around and try to knock down the front door, the O'Flaherty's would open a trap door above them and start shooting. That's how to deal with those pesky trick-or-treaters or Christmas carolers.

From there it was on to the very pleasant nearly-seaside town of Clifden. This looks like kind of an arts community. Its in the middle of a two week arts festival (of course, they're not doing anything Sunday, which is when I visited). Like many other towns along the west coast, Clifden has a surprisingly vibrant commercial town centre, and lots of people were milling about. They also like their meat-I counted about four butchers. There's twice as many pubs, of course, but that's still a lot of meat. From Clifden I took the loop west of town starting on Sky Road. This runs up the cliffs that look down on the ocean. Had it been a better day I'd have had some really spectacular views of the estuary, all the farms and ranches, and the ocean with islands from the perfect height. As it was, the pea soup fog and mist had settled in, with off and on rain, so great views were not to be had this day. Nonetheless, even through the fog, I could see the lands down below. Check out the photos.

Then it was back through Clifden along some narrow winding roads through the Inagh Valley. This road runs through some of Ireland's few mountains, which aren't really so much "mountains" as extremely large hills. Sort of like we call creeks "rivers" back in Texas. Mountain goats and sheep are grazing all up and down the roads, sometimes on the roads, making it very hard to get to a high speed. Also, lots of bikers were out as well. The danger is that if you come around a corner too fast, you're on top of a bike rider or sheep before you have enough time to break. That tends to reduce a driver's ability to enjoy the scenery.

I next made it to Kylemore Abbey. Presently run by Irish Benedictine Nuns (there's a real party group for sure), it was built right after the famine by the Henrys. He was the son of a cotton merchant, and had inherited all of dad's money. Which, as we all know, was slave money, because that's who picked cotton back then. Anyway, he and the wife were visiting the area, which by 1849, as the potato famine was winding down, must have been a real joy ride. They liked it so much, they decided to settle down. They spent more than a year building the place in Victorian style, using local builders and tradesmen, and local materials. The place is magnificent. It set in front of a dark lake, right in front of a mountain. The views of the surrounding country are incredible. The castle itself was made of a very dark kind of stone not commonly seen elsewhere in the area, giving it a sort of black and white appearance. Still, I can't help but think as I walk up to the building that it looks like it was made out of Legos. The castle was incredibly advanced for its time, enjoying gas and electricity well before those things were common. Unfortunately, the wife died in Egypt of...dysenterry...not long after (at the age of, gulp, 45). That's really a hell of a way to go, but my understanding is its still a leading cause of death in many parts of the world. You get dehydrated. Sounds like King Tut's Curse. That leaves the guy and their nine children. Later, he sold it to some guy from Cincinnati who later lost the deed in a card game. Don't you know that the guy's wife was super mad about that? Just after she redecorated I bet. Besides, unless you're Michael Jordan, if you're betting the title to the castle you just paid a small fortune for, you may want to consider whether you have a gambling problem. In the 1920s, the nuns bought the place, having nowhere else to go after World War I screwed over their present location in Ypres, France. Ypres, of course was site to several important, bloody battles, so they were primed to get out of there, particularly after artillery began shelling them. They're still here. For many years they ran a boarding school for the rich and mighty (or at least their kids), but not anymore. There's really no need of that sort of thing, now that rich kids spend their time skiing, snorting coke and killing their parents. Instead, they make chocolate and fabrics now, and run the visitor operation fairly efficiently. While Bantry House was definitely a low tech affair, these nuns have this operation running in high gear. They must have hired some company to do it for them. I was going to go off on some tangent here about nuns, and the whole "married to Jesus" thing, which I'll boil down to they can't all marry Jesus, unless he's the worst polygamist the world has ever known. Maybe the Mormons were right after all.

Next, it was on to the final stop of the day, Cong. You've probably never heard of the place, but as I said earlier, its where the Quiet Man was fimed. If you haven't watched it, you should. Anyone who thinks John Wayne couldn't act would be very surprised. He plays an American boxer in the 1920s who quits the ring and returns to his family's ancestral home in Ireland, and adjusts to life in the simple farming ways of post-Civil War Ireland. Maureen O'Hara was never lovelier, and they really got the whole Irish thing down pretty well. John Ford wanted to turn that book into a movie his whole career, and went to great lengths to do it, despite warnings the movie would flop. It didn't, and its just really a lovely story. The third "character" though is Ireland; set in early Technicolor, it really dazzles. The village of Cong, where it was set (renamed "Inisfree" in the movie) was entirely charming. So while I was here I wanted to see whether it still looked that way. The answer is, not really. I could tell a few things from the movie, the Cohan's Bar, the graveyard where Wayne and O'Hara first kiss, the cross in the road (c. 1350)and layout of the main square, and one of the back alleys. Its kind of hard to tell now that the place has car traffic, a gas station and power lines. Its a shame I couldn't spend more time. The ruins of Cong Abbey (c. 1200) were well preserved. Cong Woods has an extensive trail system running near a very pleasant creek, and I'd have enjoyed spending some time hiking there.

As the sun was setting, I made a mad dash back to Galway before dark, where I packed and got ready for the crack of dawn run to Dublin to catch my flight to Scotland.

Next-Edinburgh

Vacation Day Seven-In the City

I decided to sleep late and recover a little bit today, which I desperately needed after staying up too late yet again, writing last night’s post while watching new South Park episodes. This is how I spend my vacation. Fantastic.

So, I decided to throw my pity party right here in Galway, rather than hitting the road again. I’d originally planned to go see The Burren, which as described yesterday is a freakishly rocky area with very little vegetation, about an hour south of Galway. Imagine for as rar as you can see, the ground looks like the gravel under railroad tracks. I blew it off. If I want to see a barren wasteland, I can just go to Pasadena. Or Odessa.

I puttered around, then left my room around 10. It was sunny when I walked out of the room, but it started raining by the time I made it three floors down to the ground and got outside. It happens just that fast around here. Its like Mr. Freeze or some Super Villain created a weather machine and pointed it straight at Ireland. It would stop raining and then start at least twice more during my 45 minute run. And we Texans think our weather changes quickly. Huh!

Running gave me a good view of the city’s layout. Lots of kids and college students were already pouring into the city centre, along with tourists and some locals in town for Saturday. It almost resembled a week day. I saw a few other guys out running, and some more people cycling. Mostly I ran along the river (Corrib) walkway, as well as along the “Canal Walk,” which parallels the river (and apparently as a diversion of river water when, as today, the river is flowing extremely rapidly). I ran down the High Street/Shop Street/Quay Street area, where most of the city centre’s pubs, shops and restaurants are located. Its blocked to vehicle traffic, so people tend to congregate there. The pubs were already filling at 10 a.m. I’d be tempted to congratulate the Irish for living up to the boozed up stereotype, but there’s so many tourists and students around here its hard to say exactly who’s hanging out in pubs. It appears like everyone, natives and outsiders alike, are filling up the pubs. And shops, and walkways.

After getting cleaned up and having breakfast, I headed back out and walked past Eyre Square, right in the City Centre, where a Triumph Motors club was having a rally, or show or something. They lined up maybe 20 mint condition Triumphs (TR-6s, TR-7s, one TR-8, and a few Spitfires), as well as a 50s Jaguar. I don’t go for all the “guy” pursuits, like hunting and fishing, but I sure get excited to see classic sports cars like these. Triumphs always performed miserably, when they were working at all, but they sure looked sweet. [Insert misogynist joke here]. These owners maintained their cars meticulously. People were walking around oohing and aahing. Including me. I probably photographed all of those cars.

The city has preserved some of its original city wall, from when the Normans first founded the city. One, interestingly, is now within a shopping mall. The mall developers simply built around it and incorporated the wall into their design. Its great that developers will put the new alongside the old, and echoes what I perceive as a European philosophy of the past influencing and informing the new in all walks of life. Particularly architecture. I’ve noticed throughout my extensive drives that a lot of the new Irish homes (and I’ve seen many, obviously relics from the recent boom) incorporate designs and aesthetics from ancient Irish structures, such as the extensive use of stone, color types, and layout. In Houston, they’d have just knocked the wall down. And cleared out any pesky trees getting in the way too, just to show nature who’s boss. Then put in a lot of parking spaces. With a Wendy’s and a Pappasito's at the opposite ends of the parking lot (so you can get fuel up before you begin your long hike into the mall...where you'll get some pizza and ice cream later on). Don’t get me wrong, I totally think the USA has Europe beat in nearly every way, but the euros’ preservation and celebration of history shames us.

By the way, there’s some sort of big rugby tournament this weekend (turns out it was the Rugby World Cup), as I mentioned, and Ireland was playing Australia. That may account for the pubs being full, though I’m not sure the game was on yet. Maybe this is how they tailgate. In case you care, I approve of rugby. Unlike the other euro sport which shall go nameless, you have to be tough to play rugby. No flopping, no injury faking, no orange slices and candy after the games, and no douchebags. Those guys actually are a bit crazy. Anyone who goes out there and willingly gets their head beaten in repeatedly is gonna have that back up on them.

On another completely unrelated point everyone needs to know, I need to tell you that after having toured the country these last few days…I've discovered that the Irish Dental Service isn’t making the grade. Lets' just say its Appalachia time over here, tooth wise. Austin Powers thinks these people have teeth problems. That’s more true with men than women, though there’s plenty of older women with tooth problems. Maybe it’s the result of a lifestyle replete with smoking, drinking Guinness, tea and whisky, taking sugar in their tea and lots of foods, and being dependent on a national dental service (oops, sorry, national health care will save us all, just like its done for the Irish).

Highlights of my travels around the town include the Spanish Arch (literally an arch built along the river in the 16th century), the Canal Walk (where I happened upon a white water rafting class learning how to deal with being capsized, in very cold canal water), National University of Ireland, Galway (which has a really great old main quadrangle building, though not nearly as great as the quad at Rice), the St. Nicholas Church (dating back to the 1300s), the open air market right next to the church. Finally, I saw, and marveled at, Galway Cathedral. It dominates the skyline, but is Italian rather than gothic. Though it was built in the 20th century, it easily stands alongside the town’s other more ancient structures (another example of the aesthetic I mentioned earlier).

After all that walking around I was pretty tired, and stopped in Lynch’s Café for some good vegetable soup and a wheat scone, with some Irish breakfast tea. Just getting a chance to sit down and warm up was really worth it. The area was still packed at 5:30 though.

I had dinner at a pub across the street which I think was called au Poucan. Two guys playing guitar and one guy on banjo were playing irish songs. It struck me that this music has a lot, and I mean A LOT, in common with early country music (which I refer to as “country music”). Jimmie Rogers, Bill Monroe, the Carter Family, Hank Williams, Hank Snow, Tex Ritter…those guys. Some other time I’ll write down my rant about how modern country music is really just rock and roll music with a steel guitar thrown in for good measure, and sung by a guy who has a country twang and can wear Wranglers properly. Nonetheless, I hear a lot of similarities between Irish music, and authentic country music. All kinds of people are here: students, soccer hooligans, grandma and grandpa, couples on dates, families that if they were Americans would be at the Olive Garden, and weirdoes traveling by themselves. There’s other kinds of pubs, though, with groups of drunk guys spilling out, smoking cigarettes, wearing their teams colors, yelling at each other and passersby. In Texas, of course, that’s known as a “sports bar.”

The rest of the night I just worked on the logistics for Scotland and getting last night’s post together.

Next-Connemara and Cong.