WARNING! Something!

I pulled over to blog about this.

So, warning signs. On the road. There are lots! It's super helpful [mostly]!

But. 

So you have the obvious ones:

[exclamation point] [squiggly line] SLOW

Curves ahead, cool, got it.

[red sign with picture of a sheep]

Cool, watch for sheep, thanks.

You have the helpful ones with text:

[exclamation point] FERAL GOATS NEXT TWO MILES

Ah, ok, thanks for the heads up!

[white sign with arrow right] FREE CHURCH

Um, ok... I don't know what I'd do with a remote Scottish church, maybe that's why you're trying to unload it for free, thanks anyway...

Some with text AND pictures:

[picture of couple with canes] ELDERLY PEOPLE

Not sure that's totally PC, but I'll try not to hit them, thanks!

And then you have the problems. Two, specifically.

1) HOW FAST AM I SUPPOSED TO BE GOING??? There are lots of speed zones with very clear signage to reduce speed to x, but then at the end there's just the sign that I've learned means 'restrictions no longer apply'. So.... what's the 'normal' speed limit? Is it just whatever I want? This goes along with lots of signs when curves are coming up that just say 'SLOW'. But HOW slow? Just slower than I'm going now? But how fast should I be going now? Aaaaaaaaah!

2) And my favorite:

[exclamation point] [arcane symbol] 1/2 MILE

....what? Ok, I'm supposed to watch out for... something... for a half mile. Or is that IN a half mile? But WHAT?!? Oh god... is it something natural? Is it an animal? Lightning strikes? Fallen trees? Tornadoes? Ghosts? AAAAAHHH!!!!

That's all.

Left. Left. Left. Left.

When I told people with experience that I was going to rent a car (for the first time ever) in Scotland and drive a manual transmission around the country on the 'wrong' side of the road, I got some very nice advice, some of which is loosely paraphrased below:

"Nah, you'll be fine. But every time you stop at an intersection, say 'left. left. left. left.' over and over to yourself until you're going again. Maybe say it out loud. And look both ways, multiple times. And try not to hit anything."

"Yeah, it seems pretty easy. I mean, the cars and roads are all designed that way, so just do what everyone else is doing and pay attention so you don't fuck it up."

"Do you know how to drive a manual transmission? Yeah? Well then you'll be fine. Just be sure to pass on the proper side. And do note that people drive very slowly in the rural areas, so allow a lot of time!"

So today I took the morning train back from Golspie to Inverness. I wandered around Inverness for a half hour or so -- I had planned to go directly to Marks & Spencer for lunch, but got distracted by a sign for the 'Victorian Market' which sounded exciting but turned out to be an old (sorry, 'historic') shopping mall. Then I went to find the castle (and found the 'American Candy World' which was naturally next to the 'Miami Night Club' on the way). The castle was fine, took a picture, didn't go in. Then went to M&S for my favorite sandwich (Ploughman's cheddar with tomato and pickle ['pickle' means something different here, it's brown and good] on malted bread), sour cream & chili lentil crisps (new favorite snack), and of course trifle.

Then I went on a walk to find the hotel where I was to pick up my rental car, which turned out to be MUCH farther out of town than I expected, along a main road and past what felt like miles of used car lots and construction sites. Eventually I found it, and checked out my car from the typical car-rental clerk (doughy mouth-breathing early twenties high school grad who lives in his mom's basement and works primarily to support his Magic card habit -- this may be my first time renting a car myself, but I've been involved with the process enough through various jobs to know the type):

"Ok, I'll just glance at your driver's license, take a deposit on your credit card, and sign here, here, here and here and I'll give you the keys."

*sign* *sign* *sign* ...

"And here."

"...but... that's the part that says there's no exisiting damage."

"Right. We've already checked it."

"...right, but I haven't. I need to look at it before I can sign the section that says I accept it in perfect condition."

"Well, I can't give you the keys until you sign it."

"But what if I get out there and it's a wreck?"

"Well, you could come back in."

"And then what would happen?"

"Well... I guess I'd take a look and then if it was like you said, we could amend this."

"I see."

So then, after getting the keys, doing a thorough check, making several trips back inside with questions:

"Excuse me, how do I open the boot?"

"Oh, you'll see an S thingy on the back, just push on that and then pull up."

"Ah. Ok, thanks!"

"Excuse me, but there's no owner's manual..."

"No."

"Oh."

"Excuse me, sorry to bother you again... so I've got the back open now, thanks, but there's no jack, or spare tire, or warning triangle?"

"No. It's alright, we know."

"But aren't I required to have that? Like, by law or something? What if I get a flat?"

"Nah, you'll be alright."

"But..."

"Well, we haven't got any, anyway."

"Ok..."

So anyway, I think the moral of that story is that I won't rent from Europcar again... fingers crossed that I won't need any of those things!

So after getting in on the wrong side and sitting there for a confused minute, then getting out and going around, I started it up, examined all the dials and levers and lights, and I was off! ...off around the parking lot, that is, for approx 20 laps and several encounters with the curb and some bushes, to the amusement of a hotel guest having a smoke out front, before I finally felt brave enough to venture out on the main road...

...where I made it approx 300 feet before encountering a traffic circle and promptly making a wrong turn. But then I found another traffic circle and managed to get myself heading back to the first one, where this time I took Rick Steves' advice and just got cozy there, and went around it a few times until I felt fairly confident and then went winging off in the proper direction. 

Then I continued driving, for miles and miles, muttering a mantra out loud over and over and gripping the steering wheel so hard my hands started to cramp up:

"Left, left, left. Just keep to the left. NOT TOO FAR TO THE LEFT! And try not to hit anything. Left, left, left..."

It was SO STRESSFUL. For the first 20 miles or so, anyway... then I started to relax a bit and feel a little better about my decision.

That day I drove 220 miles in about 6.5 hours (lots of single-track roads and I had to stop a few times for sheep and a hedgehog to cross). I saw lots of lovely scenery, pulled over frequently, and had a great time. I went from Inverness to the Isle of Skye via a northerly route, checked in to a B&B near the bridge, and then drove around the north coast of the island. It was SO PRETTY! But it also took longer than expected, so after a quick stop for haggis, neeps and tatties, it was fully dark by the time I got back. Luckily I made it before the 11pm noise and running water curfew (the B&B hosts were very nice, but it was also like staying with your grandparents -- all dark wood paneling and lots of rules), so I was able to have a quick shower before falling into bed, ready for an early start the next morning.

"Would you care for some beans on toast?"

Yesterday I left Edinburgh and took a six-hour train journey north, through Inverness to the tiny town of Golspie on the North Sea. Last summer I stayed in a little inn in a little seaside village in Scotland as well. That village (Stonehaven) had a population of 11,000. Golspie has a population of 1,650. So.

It's main (only?) draw is a golf course. It's got a main street (one), no traffic lights except for one crossing signal near the school, a coffee shop, two tiny grocery stores, one chippy, four small inns, a payphone, and one bus stop. Well, two I suppose -- one in each direction. The train station has a slightly covered bus shelter for the rain, and, as I learned on my last day when I arrived early to be sure of finding the correct platform on the correct side of the track, only one platform to choose from. The station one stop down the line is even smaller, and has a red spigot with two small red buckets hanging beside it labeled "FIRE". Yep, I believe that's the fire extinguisher and fire hose all in one. 

Everyone I've encountered who isn't from here is between 60-80 years old, and the one tiny gift shop sells mostly scarves, china plates, aprons, and flowery greeting cards.

AND I LOVE IT.

I checked in to my tiny seaside inn (the Golf Links Hotel, which I wholeheartedly recommend) as soon as I arrived, around 8:30pm. It's run by a lovely couple from Yorkshire, Linda and Richard. It has I think 9 rooms, a formal dining room (used for both breakfast, which is included and cooked to your request, and dinner, which is cooked by Linda and served by Richard), a bar with over 200 varieties of whisky to choose between, and a lounge/sitting area with big comfy chairs and couches overlooking the front garden and the North Sea. 

I stayed in a spotlessly-clean, beautifully-decorated, utterly cozy room with a sea view. It came with bottled water, tea and cookies at no extra charge. It had two twin beds with electric blankets on the mattress under the seat, so you could warm up the bed before getting in. It was PERFECT.

Richard gave me a tour of the property before showing me to my room and giving me my old-fashioned key. Dinner service had stopped at 8pm, I learned later from a sign, but he asked me if I'd eaten and when I said no, told me to settle in and then come down for supper if I liked. So I did, and had a solo home-cooked meal in the formal dining room before retiring to the sitting room with a book and a glass of whisky, while the wind howled and the waves crashed outside.

The next day I had breakfast in the dining room (cooked and served by Linda). I had tea, orange juice, cereal, brown toast with butter and jam, scrambled eggs and suasage. It was delicious. I got to see the other four(?) hotel guests too, which was fun. Then I took a bus to my chosen stables, and visited with horses and the stablehands for awhile, groomed my horse for the day (Eli), and had a seven-mile private trail ride along the beach, past a castle, up through fields of heather into the woods to the top of the hills overlooking the ocean, through fields of cattle, and more. Then I unsaddled and groomed Eli and turned him out to the pasture, and then walked four miles home (along the beach, through fields of cattle, past a castle, etc). It was SO GREAT. 

I explored the town on my way back, which took approx 10 minutes because there's really only one street. I was hungry. The restaurant options were:

1 Chinese takeaway (closed)

2 tiny grocery stores (pre-made sandwiches and such available)

3(?) hotels that serve meals (only the hotel guests seem to partake)

1 coffee shop (closed)

1 chippy (PACKED with a line out the door).

I had dinner in the formal dining room of my hotel again. It was just as lovely. Toward the very end of my meal another solo hotel guest came in, but otherwise it was just me. By this point I'd heard the dining room CD about five times, and was able to predict which track was next. It skipped throughout most of one track, but it was a highland reel and the skipping was such that it made the song in double-time, which was actually fairly pleasant. 

Then I read for awhile in the lounge and went up to bed, to catch an early train back to Inverness where I've hired a car and am going to drive across the country on the left. Wish me luck!

Haggis, black pudding and Irn Bru

Edinburgh! Hurrah! 

Last night went to a great pub tucked away from the main street down some stone stairs on a Close (which seems to mean sort of a pedestrian-only alleyway into the warren of stone buildings) called Devil's Advocate - great big stone cave-like space. I had a traditional Scottish cider, battered and fried balls of haggis in a mustard mash, and a burger that was, from the ground up:

Bun

Mayo (my substitute for quince aioli) 

Shredded lettuce

Beetroot

Tomato

Thick flame-cooked beef/pork burger

Slab of black pudding

Slab of blue cheese

Mayo

Bun

Oh, and chips (thick fries).

It was all AMAZING. But also huge and I couldn't quite finish. The waitress kept coming to make sure I liked it, since I was eating slowly, and looked a little sad when she took the last bit away. Then she brought the check and said "I'm sorry, I think maybe you didn't like it and you're just so nice that you didn't want to say, and I thought maybe the burger looked a little too pink, so I've talked to my manager and I've given your drinks free and I hope that's alright!" Awwwww!

This morning I've gone for breakfast at Mum's, where I had eggs benedict, a side of mash, and an Irn Bru ('iron brew' made in Glasgow). Now the question: what, exactly, is 'mash'? I've had it now more than once, and I'm still not sure. It looks like potatoes but it doesn't quite taste like them. Ah well.

Irn Bru - not a fan. It's bright orange and super sweet and vaguely citrusy, but mostly sweet. 

Now I'm off to shows! Hurrah!

Berlin und zee Germans

I think my experience of the German people (and I'm half German myself, so perhaps it makes sense) is best summed up by the following exchange, at 3am in Berlin after a night out in clubs:

Me: "That was just lovely. All the people were sooo nice and friendly!"

B: "'Nice and friendly?' You mean, 'quiet and reserved and kind of socially awkward and pretty much keep to themselves?'"

Me: "Um.... yeah, I guess, kind of. Aren't they great?!?!"

And then also my occasional shame regarding my own country-folk by this exchange:

Hotel. Full elevator leaves ground floor. One level up, a young couple gets in. The dude is wearing a backwards baseball cap and blasting 'Sweet Home Alabama' from his iPhone speakers. This lasts three floors, then they get out. Into the ensuing awkward silence:

B (to me, partially under his breath, shaking his head): "Not MY people..."

American girl in the corner alone: "Oh god, I wish I could say the same... It just makes me want to apologize to everyone!" 

Me: "Yeah, tell me about it..."

Older couple in the other corner: "...Ja, we are Dutch."

So anyway, yeah. Dear world, sometimes (oftentimes) my country-folk are clueless, obnoxious idiots, and I am so sorry. Lots of us are great, though! Promise!

And dear Germans: I love hanging out in clubs with you, and also social spaces in general. Know why? Because when there's a reason for us to talk you are polite and generally friendly, and when there isn't, you leave me alone and I leave you alone and we coexist in a comfortable, relaxed space where everything is fine and everything is working correctly and everyone is politely following the rules and if something breaks, we will fix it, because we are German and that is what we do.

And last but not least: I found this in a German shop (see photo). Whaaaaaaaaat? I see it a lot with NYC and LA, but Seattle? Also, I appreciate the specificity of the particular region, but I find it hard to believe that the Germans would know the political/idealogical differences between eastern and western Wa. Oh well :)

Black Pudding, Brussels-Style

Day one!

Mini-posts because we're traveling as a couple for most of this holiday so I don't have piles of mildly-lonely time to fill. It stresses me out to not have fully-crafted posts, but I'm going to try to relax about it. Here goes!

Landed in Brussels and took the train in. Have only explored the city center so far, but having fun. Tonight we ate at a restaurant that offered black pudding, Brussels-style, so of course I had to try it to compare with Scotland, because I liked it there soooo much last summer.

Here it was good but way different - thick, rich, soft, loaded with big chunks of garlic. Good, but I preferred the thinner, harder, bloodier one I had before. I've only tried the two, though, so we'll see how the next compares.

Now we're drinking beer, because it's Belgium and that's what you do. I'm drinking Lambic because it's delicious and it comes from here. Yay!

Fjording!!

PREFACE:

This was to be one of the last posts from last summer's vacation, but I never got around to completing it. I found the draft when I went to post something from this vacation, and thought I might as well post it as-is. It was a totally amazing day and absolutely worth the long, wet hike. I thought about my grandpa a lot along the way.

I went to a fjord! This was one of the first things I decided to do when I chose to go to Norway in the first place. Of course I didn't want to go to 'the popular fjord' -- so I went to the second-most-popular fjord instead.

I got up early and walked into town to catch the ferry. The weather was a little threatening but I was determined to go anyway. I picked up a calzone and some bottled water at the convenience store by the ferry terminal, and got on the boat.

I'd read a little online, and learned that you could buy a tour package in the town that included the ferry and the bus to the base of the hiking trail... OR you could buy a basic ferry/bus combo on the boat, which was much cheaper. Naturally I chose that option.

The ferry ride was quite lovely from the start. I spent most of it out on the upper deck, and it was gorgeous... mostly sunny but with fantastic [rain]cloud formations on all sides. The clouds with the rugged but green landscape was absolutely beautiful. It was all very Nordic and perfect. 

After about 30 minutes we arrived at the ferry terminal and filed off. There was a bus stop there and we all wandered over to it (most of the passengers were also tourists with the same plan in mind). About two minutes later a nice big coach bus pulled up and most of us got on... but some of us, myself included, were turned away and gestured toward the next bus stop over. We eventually figured out that the fancy bus was for people who had bought the expensive tickets in town, and that those of us who had bought the cheap tickets on the boat had to take the other bus. The internet had told me the night before that all the fjord buses were coordinated with the ferry arrivals, so I figured it wouldn't be much of a wait... so we waited. The ferry left. It started to rain, so we all crowded under the tiny bus shelter. It rained more. It rained really hard. I started to realize that I was woefully underdressed for a four+hour strenuous hike in the rain... I was wearing my vibram shoes (which were perfect), a sun hat (ha!), shorts, a t-shirt, and a cotton cardigan that didn't button or zip. I started to have second thoughts... but I reeeeeeally wanted to see a fjord.

We waited some more. After about half an hour the first bus came back, and the next ferry arrived. We tried to get on that bus again, but the driver turned us away again. That bus left, and then the ferry left, and the whole sodden bunch of us crowded back under the overhang of the bus shelter. About five minutes later a different bus pulled up, parked, turned off, and the driver got off. He immediately got swamped by us all, but he explained that he was the bus meeting the NEXT ferry, and didn't know why no other buses had come. He got on the phone to his boss and started poking around another bus that was parked and turned off -- apparently the scheduled driver just hadn't turned up that day -- and we all went back under the bus shelter. Twenty minutes later, the next ferry came and we were finally allowed on a bus. At this point I was really glad I'd gotten up at 6:45am in order to catch the earliest ferry I could...

After a fairly short bus ride we arrived at a parking lot/RV campground and piled off to start hiking. The trail started off as a dirt road, but quickly narrowed to a dirt track, then a creek bed, then a swamp with a raised wood walkway (with some nice foot-sized holes scattered about), then the face of a rock slide. At this point I came across a woman who had fallen and sprained her ankle. I offered her hiking partner some Advil from my first aid kit, but they declined. I kept going... next the trail came to a some small alpine lakes and then a huge expanse of flat rock. I should note that the trail was extraordinarily well-marked with regular red T's painted on rocks. I'd thought it was funny at first, when the trail was basically a road, but when it was all rock with no visible path, I was pretty grateful.

Finally, about 90 grueling minutes in, after passing the tree line, I got my first glimpse of the fjord from a distance. Most of the way up I kept seeing little lakes, and every time I was like "Ooooh, is THAT a fjord? Oh. That's not a fjord. Is THAT a fjord?" When I saw the real thing, it was more "OH. THAT's a fjord. Ohhhh." It was pretty damn spectacular.