Scotland XIV: The cities

Wednesday we left Berwick and headed towards Glasgow. We made a stop in Edinburgh, to look at the Castle (normally £12 per person, but now free, free, freeeee due to my membership in Historic Scotland) and to grab some lunch.

Adam Smith, father of the science of economics, godfather of free trade and free markets:



View from the ramparts towards Arthur's Seat.



Heidi and a sculpted lion at the castle. Heidi at the back (no, I never get tired of that joke).



We lunched at the Greyfriar's Bobby pub, named after the Skye Terrier who famously watched over his dead owner's grave for 14 years. There's a small statue of Bobby outside the pub.



The puppy and the bitch (bwahahahaha)



I love Edinburgh and I love the castle, but we didn't have much time, as we'd made Glasgow our priority this time, so we left after less than three hours. On Thursday we went for an 80 minute tour bus ride of Glasgow that was both entertaining and informative and I highly recommend it.

Today I've dropped Heidi at Prestwick Airport (she was still breathing when I left) and I'm currently in a hotel in Windermere, in the beautiful Lake District.

Scotland XIII b: Castles

Later Tuesday we spent time at the huge and wonderful Bamburgh Castle, an impressive 11th century structure that could serve as an example of everything a proper castle should be: Mighty exterior, scenic surroundings and an awe-inspiring interior. For once, Heidi and I were in complete agreement: We loved the place.



View from the ramparts:





Can you imagine being a kid (or a dog - the two are quite similar in terms of what entertains them) and getting to play here? Wooo hooo!



We then drove on to Chillingham Castle, originally a 12th century monastery. The place fell into disrepair after the war, and the restoration work has been somewhat patchy, to put it very mildly. To be brutally honest it looks like some madman has scattered centuries of accumulated kitch randomly around the place. It's not worth the exorbitant £6.75 they charge you to get in.

Scotland XIII: Berwick

Ah... we've been without internet access since Monday morning, but much has happened. I'll try to keep it brief. We started Monday with a quick visit to Hexham Old Gaol, which is England's oldest purpose-built prison building. Quite small and a bit hyped if you ask me.

Heidi and some dolls. Heidi on the right.



A common punishment for minor offenses, such as nagging. Yes, Heidi, NAGGING.




Afterwards we drove up to Lindisfarne/Holy Island. For a more thorough description, see my notes on visiting there last year.

Heidi and some ruins from the Lindisfarne monastery. Heidi on the right.




We then drove up to Berwick upon Tweed, a nice little city very close to the Scottish border. Due to the numerous wars between England and Scotland the city changed hands 13 times in 300 years, but has been English since 1482. In the evening we had dinner in the tiny town of Coldstream, where I'd visited last year. The chicken at the Besom was still good, though not as good as last time. The dessert, however, was divine. We got to talking to some very funny and friendly locals (we had a bit of a singalong on Scottish folk songs and Elvis) and Heidi got horribly, horribly drunk (I refuse to see any connection here).

The central parts of Berwick, north of the river Tweed, lie within impressive fortifications from Elizabethean times. The city center has some nice buildings and the seaside part of the wall is just one huge park really - with a golf course between it and the ocean. We walked around quite a bit Tuesday morning.







The beach...



Heidi - surprisingly fresh, despite me having to physically stear her up the stairs at 1:30 am the night before.




There was a signpost declaring the local military museum closed, but inside the courtyard the doors were open, so we went in. We spent twenty minutes happily wandering around empty rooms before the staff finally discovered us and threw us out...

She looks drunk, but it's just Diet Coke...



Heidi at home...

Scotland XII: Hadrian's Wall

Spent the night at a decidedly mediocre motel outside Gretna. The only moment of hilarity was when we discovered that it was impossible to turn off one light in the bedroom without turning on two others... finally, after a couple of minutes of every possible combination, we managed to turn it off by using a seemingly unrelated switch in the hallway. Yes, we were in that kind of a mood.

There was a travel center next to the motel where we had dinner at Burger King in the evening and breakfast at some fancy schmancy overpriced coffee place today. The physical appearance and general lack of competence of the staff in eating places in Wigtown and Gretna has led us to conclude that inbreeding must be a serious problem in these parts. Also, we've discovered that the local sheep seem very jumpy, leading us to believe they know something we rather wouldn't.

This morning I finally got my mp3 player to work again (it has a transmitter, enabling me to use it on the car radio). Fittingly, it started playing "Anarchy in the UK" a few seconds after we crossed the "border"... Heidi has been rather skeptical of my taste in music, but she couldn't find fault with the stuff I've been playing today - we even had a bit of a singalong on "Comfortably Numb" (which is what you wish you were if you ever heard her singing).

Today we've largely been following Hadrian's Wall, driving on narrow roads through a pleasantly rolling landscape. We stopped in at the Roman Fort at Birdoswald, where I took great pleasure in producing my membership proof from Historic Scotland, saving all of £4.50 in the process - meaning I now have £777.50 to go before I break even...





Heidi on the wall, looking only slightly less scary than a hairy, nekkid pict.



Heidi and the sheep. Heidi to the right.



This is SO England...




We then drove on to the Roman Army Museum, which I quite liked, and its sister site at Vindolanda, where they're currently excavating a huge Roman fort. Nice museum and very scenic surroundings.



Here's a quick example of a typical conversation between us, this one from right after these pics were taken:
Me: When I win the lottery, I'm going to build me a temple like that.
Heidi: Build it a little larger, so you can fit your ego in there too.
Me: Or even a little larger than that, so we can fit in your ass.



This is a real size model of how the wall would look way back when:




We're currently in Hexham, where we're lodged in a suite at the rather luxurious Hallbank Guest House (yes, we're rich).





Hexham market place, dominated by the huge abbey.



The old Moot Hall from the 15th century.

Scotland XI: Wigtown

This morning Heidi suggested we take a quick stroll down to the beach, which is just a few hundred meters from the hotel in order to "wake up". While there it started to rain sideways, so both my jacket and pants got soaked, despite my umbrella. Before that a hyperactive labrador pup jumped on me and dirtied my clothes. Hell is truly other people.

The beaches were "combed" by machine. Clearly, the local council has too much money.



Heidi and some wormlike sea creatures. Spot the difference.



We set off towards Wigtown, which is known as Scotland's "National book town". It's a nice, but quite tiny place, with some wonderful shops, mainly second hand and antique stuff. On the way there we saw, way the hell out in the sea, this huge rock. It was quite a stunning and unexpected view. We later learned it's a volcanic rock called Ailsa Craig, 338 meters high and situated about 16 km (10 miles) from shore.




From Wigtown (I'll provide you with a list of the literary loot I got later)



A mercat cross.



Two clever store names - The Cauldron and The creaking shelves.



This has GOT to be the worst combination of names ever.



After lunch and tea in Wigtown we set off for Gretna, where we're spending the night. On the way we drove up to see a couple of cairns, 4-6,000 years old. The view from up there was quite stunning.

Cairn #1:



Cairn #2:





Stunning views:



Heidi and the stones. Heidi is the one in the middle, with the camera.

Scotland X: Ayr

On Friday I drove down to Prestwick airport, south of Glasgow to pick up my old friend Heidi, aka Vampus. To give you an idea of our relationship, at the arrival gate I met her with a handwritten sign saying "Alcoholics Anonymous"... We've traveled together before in the Balkans and the Baltics, and still haven't killed each other, which probably makes us look like better people than we really are. Heidi's going to join me for a week, and I suspect this trip will be blogged from increasingly different angles...

We checked in to the Arrandale Hotel in Ayr, just 15 minutes from the airport. It's a nice place, run by a truly sweet and funny lady. At £80 for a double ensuite it is highly recommended. Heidi and I walked around the town center for a little while before dining at the Tam O Shanter Inn, situated in a building from the mid 1700s. It's named after a poem by Robert Burns, who was born in this area. The food was mediocre but the bar was ok. Ayr's ok but the accent down here is so thick you can cut it with a knife.


This statue looks wonderfully absurd. A man holding a fish in his hands, pondering... what?



Ayr by night, the streets wet with rain:





It's a hard life for smokers, as Heidi was forced to breathe fresh air several times during the evening...



Heidi trying to convince me she's not drunk, despite walking almost twice the distance I did back to the hotel... ten seconds after this pic was taken, she almost fell on her face.

Scotland IX: Inveraray

Another lazy day. Drove off to Inveraray in the morning, spent a couple of hours there, mainly in the old jailhouse, which is now a museum. The have displays about crime and punishment throughout the ages, and a mock courtroom where you can hear the proceedings in various cases. The cells have been turned into exhibit rooms, some with dolls and tableaus, others with various objects or photo displays. It's interesting, well done and just morbid enough. As always, click on the pic to see a larger version.


Wonderfully morbid - a hanging horsethief and a prisoner doing his business:



From the courtroom. There was an audiotape of "proceedings" running in a loop.





This is where the prisoners spent an hour every day to get exercise:



The prison had a cow on the premises to provide fresh milk for the inmates.



Young men serving time. A good share of those imprisoned were rural boys who often didn't speak a word of English. Interpreters were provided for them during the trials.



Women were allowed to keep their babies with them for up to a year.



Even children as young as five were sometimes locked up for theft. This was not necessarily much of a punishment, since inside they were dry and got regular meals, something many children couldn't count on in their daily lives. I've said it before; life could be very, very difficult back then, and those who slander our own times reveal their ignorance of history.



Unruly prisoners could be put in straitjackets, and young boys were sometimes whipped with birch sticks. This did not happen as often as we might think, and there was always a surgeon present, and usually his consent was required for any kind of punishment that involved physical restraints or extra hard labor.



Many prisoners worked, mainly with making nets for local fishermen. Idleness was seen as a dangerous thing, so many times they were set to do completely pointless tasks, such as turning a crank handle or walking on a threadwheel.




In Kilchrenan I was staying at the Roineabhal Country House, a very pretty and peaceful place run by some very nice people. Check out their page and the pictures of their home and the surroundings.

The cat, Conan and the dog, McDuff. The latter is a Spinoni pup of just nine months, but already big as a small horse. Fortunately he's just a big bundle of love and drool. He met me with a big stick in his mouth and a hopeful look in his eyes before I even got out of the car, and as soon as I threw the stick we were friends for life. Conan the Burmese is also a very lovable and friendly little fella.



One of the best things about staying here however were the two evenings I spent in the bar at the Taynuilt Hotel about 15 minutes away from Kilchrenan. The girls working there are just the nicest people you can imagine, and I had some great conversations with several of the guests too. Stop by for lunch and a chat if you're in the area, and say hello from the Norwegian with the American accent (I've lost count of how many people here thought I was American - even actual yanks take me for one of their kind). Privacy concerns prevent me from posting pics or going into any more details, suffice it to say that I had two very pleasant evenings in very good company.

Scotland VIII: The West Highlands

I had an incredible start to my day this morning. About twenty minutes from the hotel there's a viewpoint, right before you come to a cozy little place called Bridge of Orchy. In the parking lot was a huge truck belonging to a dairy company. As I pulled over to get some pictures of the scenery I suddenly see a couple of antlers peeking out from behind the truck, where the driver is about to open the hatch. The driver pulls out several bags filled with fruit and vegetables and starts feeding this to the deer, which takes it straight from his hand! There was another deer just behind, but he wasn't brave enough to come all the way up to the truck.

I got out of the car and approached slowly. The animals seemed more interested in the food than in me. I asked the truck driver if I could try, and ten seconds later I have a wild, live deer eating celery out of my effin hand! It was an incredible feeling, standing so close to these beautiful animals, in the most perfect scenic setting imaginable. Those five minutes alone was worth the trip.






The surrounding scenery was stunning.






Some more pics from my drive down towards the coast:








I then spent about 45 minutes at the Bonawe Iron Furnace, a very peaceful and pretty area with an informative museum covering an important part of the Industrial Revolution in Britain. Also, I was slowly trying to get my money's worth from joining Historic Scotland on Sunday (yes, those £800 I so cavalierly dished out) and since this place was a member museum I got in for free.

Nice place for a picnic.



This little fella had managed to get on the wrong side of the fence from the rest of his herd, but when he saw me he squeezed in through the metal wire to the left, kicking and wriggling like mad. Guess word must have gotten around. Uhm. Eh. Ok, moving along...




These pics are from Dunstaffnage Castle, originally built in the 13th century by the McDougalls, who were of Norwegian ancestry. The castle's main claim to fame may be that Flora MacDonald, who helped "Bonnie Prince Charlie" escape to France, was imprisoned here.

This was yet another place where I got in for free, plus I got a 20% discount on both the food and the books I bought there. In all,I think I saved something like £18 today, which means I only have about £782 to go! Woo hoo!

A well, not a dungeon:



View of the harbor, from the castle walls:

Scotland VII: Glencoe

Not much to write about, another lazy day Tuesday. Drove from Newtonmore and only had to go back once to give back the rom key I'd forgotten to hand in... delayed me about 80 minutes, but who's counting when you're driving through the Scottish countryside.


Loch Laggan and surroundings:




I stopped for a little while at the local museum in Glencoe, site of the (in)famous massacre of 1692. The museum itself (formally called Glencoe and North Lorne Folk Museum) is a wonderful little place, filled with all sorts of more or less random old stuff. (Also, there's a very nice and very pretty blonde behind the counter). This cupboard caught my attention - on the inside of the doors there were lots of "healthy" and "easy" recipes, plus useful advice on various matters, such as first aid. Amusing!




I spent the night at the somewhat famous Kings House Hotel. A bit on the pricey side for the room, but good food and nice people. I took the opportunity to do some laundry, but since the tags on my clothes all predicted death and doom if I tumble dried them, I had to hang dry it all. There was a drying room next to my room, but it was almost full, so I plugged in the oven in my room, cranked up the heat to max and simply left. I had a very hot night later on, but damn if the clothes weren't dry in the morning.

You meet all sorts of people from all over the world in these places, and I had a long and very interesting conversation with a British soldier in a branch of the special forces that shall remain unknown. He'd been all over the world, fighting and training, and if half of what he told me is true he's got a good book on his hands. I don't want to go into more details here, suffice it to say that the conversation felt like a therapy session for a gung ho reactionary like yours truly.

Another new friend I made was Bubbles. This little lady is a border collie, and belonged to a Belgian guy. Bubbles was very well behaved, but loved the attention everybody gave her. The owner said Bubbles had no experience with sheep, but every time they went to his brother's place, she would try to herd his rabbits.



The hotel - the oldest parts of the house was used as barracks for British troops back in the 1740s.



Some views from Glencoe and the hotel area:

Scotland VI: Wildlife Park IV

Finally... the wolves. Four adult males. I got a shitload of pics, some of them from the feeding, where the staff threw dead mice over the fence. Sometimes they get beef, and one day per week they are starved, so that they maintain their natural digestive balance - in the wild a wolf will not eat every day.

I'll let the pictures do the rest of the talking. Magnificent creatures, truly.

Scotland VI: Wildlife Park III

Nice views:



Bwaaaah! I'm locked up!



This little guy had found a branch he was simultaneously eating on and fighting with.



Wildcats. Try and pet this little puttycat and they'll have your hand off. Nasty little things, they are.



Hurling cat abuse at the hand that feeds you...



Quite fitting that his eyes seem to be glowing. Evil, evil little things I tell you.

Scotland VI: Wildlife Park II

These cute little Bambis were relaxing just a couple of few feet from my car, without a care in the world.






More bambis of various types.








These rams live in Pakistan and Afghanistan. Judging from the facial hair I'd say Bin Laden's been getting intimate with the local wildlife.



Unlike the women in those areas, the female goats do not have beards (yes, I am cruel and unusal).




Przewalski horses, the only truly "wild" breed left in the world.



Mom, I'm hungry!



Why, yes I am handsome aren't I?




ANIMAL PORN ALERT! The stallion was trying to have a go with one of the mares, but she would have none of it. He was quite persistent, but in the end had to give up.




Japanese snow monkeys - very smart little fellas. They spend most of the winter submerged in hot springs, and wash potatoes in the ocean because they like the salty taste.

Pinicing with a view over the lake... ahhh, life is grand.



You've no food so I'm ignoring you.



Throw the damn fruit already!



Family fun in the park.




A Red Panda - which is not really a panda at all, not even a bear. They're related to raccoons and weasels, and they're unbearably cute.

Got food?



I'm not paid to entertain you, so sod off and let me sleep. I've only had 20 hours of it today!

Scotland VI: Wildlife Park I

Left Inverness Monday morning and drove down to the Highland Wildlife Park, where I spent several happy hours. I first did the driving tour and got some pics of various deer, horses, bison etc and then did some walking. I spent most of my time with the wolves, an animal I've always liked. It's a very special feeling to stand not ten feet away from them. The park is a wonderful place, and well worth the £10,50 you pay to get in. True to British form, when I bought my ticket the old guy in the booth apologized for the "unseasonal weather". It was sunny... I took so many pics I'm going to divide this into several posts. Click for larger versions.


Tibetan horses:




European bison. Hot damn, those things are huge.







Reindeer. A bloody nuisance to traffic in the north of Norway, they SHOULD be locked up in parks.



This one turned completely loco on me. I rolled down the window to take some pics, and he started shaking and snorting and then ran around like crazy. I was afraid he'd attack the car, so I drove on.




Moose. A bloody nuisance to traffic everywhere in Scandinavia. Their peasized brains just can't process the concept of cars bearing onto them, and it's touch and go if they run away into the woods or meet you head on.

A cow, nibling some food:



Here comes daddy - it's only the bulls that have antlers.



A wee one:

Scotland V b: Fort George

Rounded the day off with a dinner at McGonagall again, followed by live folk music at the Hootananny - fiddles, flutes and guitars, footstomping and highland dancing. All round good fun! On my way back to the hotel I was harassed by a friendly drunk, who became positively giddy when he heard I was Norwegian. There were numerous handshakes and assurances that I was always welcome in Scotland, and that the Scots loved Norwegians, etc, etc. Even the drunks are nice to me up here, is it any wonder I love the place?

Anyway... as promised, here are the pics from the middle ages thingy out at Fort George earlier today. It's an interesting place in itself, being a rare combination of museum and functioning military facility and definitely worth a visit. Click on the pics for a larger version.


An old guard room, containing a humorous, heartfelt "Soldier's Prayer":




It's a huge place:




The quiet before the storm:




"It's just a flesh wound"




The archer presentation was hilarious. This guy was a real show man and managed to insult just about everybody while yet managing to teach us a bit. They also pulled a Wilhelm Tell stunt on some poor bastard.




From the jousting tournament, which I thought was a bit disappointing. The presenter just tried too hard, and quickly became annoying . The whole setup was too childish for my taste, and not informative at all. If I wanted the Disney version, I'd have gone to Florida.








There were several tents on the other side of the square from the jousting arena. People were demonstrating weaponry and fighting techniques, arts and crafts, ancient games, food, etc.




"The meteor flag of England..."

A fool and his money

Please stop me before I spend money again. This morning I drove out to Fort George, where they were putting on a big show this weekend - archery, jousting, swordfights, and such (I'll post the pics later). I noticed a booth for Historic Scotland, a government organization that runs many of the old museums, houses, monuments etc up here - it is the equivalent to English Heritage. Long story short, I ended up signing up for a lifetime membership, which entitles me to free admission to hundreds of places all over the UK, including bringing a number of guests.

The cost? The lady with the credit card machine summed it up nicely, in a very Scottish way... "Ready to start your Sunday with an £800 payment, Sir?"

I'm sure I'll wake up screaming a couple of times tonight.

Scotland IV: Cromarty

I've had a pretty lazy day today... had breakfast around 9, then I spent a few hours in my room, reading the latest Rebus novel and occasionally marveling at the horrendous boredom that is British daytime television. Around 1:30 I went back to the same pub I went to on Wednesday (Findlay), and again had a good, cheap roast duck lunch. I was joined by my old friend Pam (aka The Mad Celt), who'd come up from Aberdeen "to ruin my holiday".

After lunch and the obligatory insults we drove out to Cromarty, a cozy little village on the tip of the Black Isle (which is really a peninsula). Cromarty is well known for its Victorian cottages, many of which are probably holiday homes today, and its dolphins, which can sometimes be seen playing out in the bay. It is also the birthplace of the famous 19th century geologist Hugh Miller, and his home is a museum these days.

I rounded off the day by stuffing my face at the excellent McGonagall's in Inverness and am now about to tuck in with my beloved Rebus novel.


The view across Cromarty Firth



A memorial to the many locals who left for Australia or North America



The climate is so mild because of the Gulf stream, that even palms grow here (sorry, Mr Gore)



The local name for a small street is "vennel":



A "mercat cross" - mercat being the agreed-upon Scottish misspelling of the English word "market" and the cross conspiciously and completely missing from all such monuments. I'm still uncertain whether it's gross incompetence or sheer spite that drives the Scots to pull these stunts on unwitting foreigners.



Life could be tough, incredibly tough in these parts. Imagine being one of these parents:



Some purdy dog roses



Some nice buildings






Cromarty Harbor



Workboots on a wall - a common sight in Scotland, Pam told me. Musn't get the floors dirty, you see. From Pam I also learned about the concept of "Highland time", which basically means that if you ask someone to give you a fixed time for anything, the standard reply will be "It'll happen".



The entrance to McGonagall's in Inverness. Good steaks and the best damn Bearnaisse sauce I've ever had. It's on Bridge street and is a part of the city's oldest bar, the Gellions.

Scotland III b: The sea monster that wasn't

I'd been so heavily delayed in Wick I decided to just skip the stuff I'd planned for the rest of the day and drive straight down to have dinner at Gilbert's, the aforementioned place in Helmsdale. After another good hour and a half of good food and banter I was just about to leave, when one of the new customers started showing us pictures she'd just taken of a strange animal in the water down by the harbour, just where the Helmsdale river flows out into the North Sea. The head shape of the animal was very strange, and from the way she told it, the thing had been absolutely huge. If I didn't know any better, I'd have said the head of the thing looked like a polar bear (quick, call Al Gore!).

My curiosity piqued I drove across the bridge and started walking back. Almost immediately I saw a dark head appear down below. I stood for a long time, freezing my ass off, but couldn't get a decent pic at that distance, so finally I drove down to the harbor (not that I'm obsessive or anything). There, I finally got a closer look at the thing, and (somewhat disappointed) I quickly established that it was a seal, albeit with a slightly unusual head shape. I took a couple of shots, and just as I was about to leave another seal appeared. The newcomer was smaller, had a lighter color and the shape of it was more conventional. The two swam around a bit and I managed to get some pics of them together.


The Polar Bear that wasn't:



First hellos:







Note the strange, elongated nose of the dark one:



Shake that booty:



Aww baby, where you going:





Kilroy was here:





Meh, she's not interested:



Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to sea we go:



UPDATED SATURDAY: Having read up on the subject and looked at some pictures, I am now confident the animal I saw was a Grey Seal, a species common in these parts.

Scotland III: Wick and the north

After braving a whole dining room full of grumpy old people to get my breakfast, I left tiny Castletown for Dunnet Head, the actual northermost point of "mainland" Britain. Castletown has a small harbor two minutes drive away, and this area was actually a major producer and exporter of flagstone back in the 19th century. New York and Sydney were paved with these stones:



The place also has nice, sandy beaches:



Dunnet Head, which is farther north than John o' Groats. It's damn windy up there. The land you see way out at sea is the southern tip of the Orkneys:



There's a lighthouse at the tip of the peninsula:



On the way there I passed a herd of Highland cattle, locally known as "Shaggy Coos". I find the appeareance of these animals hilarious and I love them to bits. With hair like that you just know these cows would be playing guitar in teenage rock bands if they had opposable thumbs and a brain slightly bigger than a walnut (all experience with actual rock bands tells us that this, and a pulse is all it takes).

Yes, the wee ones ARE that cute:



The hard rock version of Bambi:




After Dunnet I drove to John o' Groats, which is considered the northermost point in "popular culture". When illustrating that something applies to all of Great Britain for example, one would use the expression "From Land's End to John o' Groats". The place itself is nothing to see, just an ugly, utterly charmless clump of buildings. I didn't even stop the car, just pressed on south towards Wick.

It was on the outskirts of Wick I made the mistake of filling petrol at a local Tesco. I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary while driving the last couple of miles into town, where I got some maps and brochures at the tourist information. I then drove across town to the Heritage Center, which has won several awards for its exhibits. At this point, all was still well.

I spent about an hour wandering around the huge building, taking in the various displays about life in the north. In Wick it was all about the herring. In the 19th century more than a thousand boats fished here in the summers, and this little town took in about 1/3 of the total herring catch in Scotland. The sea giveth, and the sea taketh away, however. During one horrible August storm, 18 boats and 37 people were lost.

This wall/corner/door is actually formally a street in itself, and is recognized by Guiness as the shortest street in the world at 206 cm. The building has the address 1 Ebenezer Place and was built in the 1880s.



An old classroom. The cane, the cane *droolz*



The little sods got medals for good work. Loudly and clearly rewarding achievements... now there's a novel idea for the commie bastards running the Norwegian school system...



This plaque from an old Norwegian company caught my eye:




How sweet to be an idiot

Afterwards I went out to my car again, and it was here tragedy struck: I could not get the damn thing to start. At the Tesco I'd just assumed the car ran on petrol, since no one at the rental company had specified it was a diesel (when I've rented diesel cars previously they always took care to point this out), but now an icy suspicion was dawning on me. I started looking carefully around the car and inside the door there was a small paper thingy with specifications. It read, in tiny, tiny letters: DIESEL. At that very moment I happened to look at my car key (who the fuck reads what's on their car keysanyway???). The key brick read in large, friendly letters: DIESEL.
Long story short: Since I had no signal on my cell phone I got the incredibly nice people at the museum to help me, and after a little over an hour a towing car came. After some further complications due to a distinct lack of communication between the insurance company and the driver of said towing car, I was taken to the local Ford dealer's workshop.

Maybe I misinterpreted some of what had been said, maybe I was just being paranoid (and heaven knows I'm utterly ignorant about cars), but I was really, really scared I'd fucked up the engine beyond repair. I was having nightmare visions of having to stay in Wick for days, or having to get the car taken all the way to Edinburgh for repair, running up four digit bills in the process. Imagine my relief when they told me it shouldn't be more than a few tenners and not more than an hour's work. The total bill came to slightly less then £30, plus the value of the gas on the tank, which had to be emptied - almost £70. Still, this came as a HUGE relief to me and I was positively giddy with joy when I left Wick.

Also on the bright side, was that I got to talk to several of the very,very nice people who work at the heritage center. Again, one of the resident little old ladies had taken me for an American, but when I informed her I was Norwegian she beamed at me and said "ooooh, well you're doubly welcome then!" I talked to several of them at length, and they all confirmed they felt as Norwegian as anything. They were certainly not Highlanders, nor did they have any warm feelings for the Celtic culture or language. They were people of the north, and they were proud of their Norse heritage.

Scotland II: The North

Ok, brief summary of today's adventures... I'm currently sitting in the hotel pub of the St Clair Hotel in the tiny village of Castletown. Nice enough place and reasonably priced. I've come up from Inverness, and I've hit just about every museum and historical marker along the way today.

First off is the Fyrish monument, which I didn't bother to actually visit, since it's a long climb up there from the road. It was supposedly built on the orders of Sir Munro, a local bigwig who simply wanted to give the unemployed locals some work, and since they wouldn't take charity he had them build the monument, which commemorates his victorious military posting in India.