Glasgow & Edinburgh & Forres, Scotland

What’s the one thing you need after 7.5 months on the road?

A SIX-DAY SISTER VACAY.  (cue montage)

guuuuuurl, let’s DO this

where’d kathy nijimy go?

Hello and welcome back.  What follows is a written account of the worst planned vacation of all time.  Two sisters.  Two years apart.  One coming straight from an Irish Baileys bender and the other coming from……… northern Idaho.

Will their spirits (and sanity) prevail as they crisscross up, down, back and forth the entire country of Scotland because someeeeebody prioritized re-watching Braveheart, So I Married an Axe Murderer, and Made of Honor instead of actually planning the vacation?  One thing’s clear: by the end of only one week, they’ll have visited each major city four separate times.

holdddddddd onto your tam ‘o shanters cuz it’s. about. to go. down.

So about six weeks ago, my middle sister, Jordan, met me in Scotland.  (I’m a tad behind.)  Armed with one small backpack, two costume changes, a can-do attitude, and that pumice stone I asked her to bring, she was a TROOPER when it came to riding buses to get to trains to more buses to an airport tram to rent a car, driving that car for two days, dropping off our bags in Glasgow, returning the car at the Edinburgh Airport, taking a train to Edinburgh for a disco, a train back to Glasgow for dinner, and a bus to our hotel.  (Never mix drinking and planning, kids.)

Thankfully, we stumbled into the country during the perfect storm of Scottish cultural activities: The Highland Games, the World Bagpipe Championships, and the world’s largest arts festival.

It’s like we planned it.  But we didn’t.

what a pleasant surprise!

First, the Highland Games.  What’s better than big, muscly men in plaid skirts and tight tanks, hurling 20’ logs over their heads?  (Watching with a beef sandwich in one hand and a specialty gin in the other.)  The Crieff Highland Gathering was like a state fair / track meet combo plus 10x the testosterone.  Bicycle races and wrestling matches and curry chips in one corner……… and men twirling their kilts, lightning fast, before releasing a ‘hammer’ that looked more like a metal coconut on a long, wooden stick in the other.  (Quick!  Twirl again!  Your hair looks great.)

Bagpipes and carnival rides and candy floss and haggis.  Whiskey cheese and clootie fruit pudding and hot dogs and more haggis.  Boulders thrown on barrels, anvils over walls, live bands, meaty thighs, froyo, fudge, and for the love of God, that 65-year-old silver fox is STILL warming up in the middle of the field.

Does he even have a race?  What’s he doing?  How long’s he been out there?  His wife is undoubtedly up in the stands like, ‘oh brother…… there’s Larry again.  Larry!  LAAARRRRRYYYY!  Come back up here, hun.  I got you an ice cream.’ before turning back to her girlfriends and whispering, ‘Poor thing’s been warming up for hours…… just walking back and forth and stretchin’ those legs!  Gotta keep stretchin’ those legs!’

this is larry.  i couldn’t take my eyes off him.

Besides watching Larry stretch those long legs of his, the tug o’ war was my Highland Game of choice.  Eight husky men, almost parallel to the ground, dug in so far that their tibias could break at any moment I loved it.  I loved the coaches pacing up and down, shouting for the men to keep pulling (great idea, coach), and I loved the guy on the end of the navy squad, who used a legit COUCH PILLOW as back support.

‘can we get a quick role call on whose legs are broken?’

at’s a man right there

the foot races had no age or gender categories, just staggered starts.  fascinating.

all event winners got a bottle of triple wood single malt scotch

does that apply to the irish dancers?  someone should check on that…

On a mission for pasties, pies, rolls and celebrations of Scottish national heritage, Jody Coyote and I hit the pavement (and the parks and Potter paraphernalia) hard.  In Edinburgh (ed-in-bur-rah), we fought through tourists on the Royal Mile to marvel at St. Giles Cathedral and the University of Edinburgh (gorgeous & gothic), got lost in a 5-floor sea of plaid called the Tartan Weaving Mill Experience, window shopped on Hanover Street, and ate all our meals next to, on or above Old Town’s Victoria Street (quite possibly J.K. Rowling’s inspiration for Diagon Alley and absolutely stunning).

scenic backdrops make food taste better

Speaking of wizards, did you know Edinburgh is the official birthplace of Harry Potter?  True story.  The city offers FREE Harry Potter walking tours to all J.K. points of interest & inspiration (like the Greyfriars cemetery with real gravestones of William McGonogal & Thomas Riddell, the George Harriet school separated into 4 distinct color-blocked houses, the Edinburgh ‘Hogwarts’ Castle, and the cafes where she put pad to pen).  If you’re lucky, you can even snag a FREE magic wand from the tour company!  If not, Courtyard Marriott pens work well in a pinch.

rossio lumus!

Fighting through crowds was the name of the game due to that ‘world’s largest arts fest’ I mentioned earlier.  For one, full month every August, Edinburgh transforms into a live-music, live-theater, stand-up comedy carnival called FRINGE FEST.  Every bar.  Every basement.  Every corner.  Every available space in the city and every hour of the day, acts are coming out’cha eyeballs.  Jugglers and comics and folk bands and spoken word.  Variety shows and drag queens and trapezes and Trump impersonators (one of which tried to grab Jordan’s pussy).

can I say pussy?  are we live?  what’s happening?

Our only regret was missing Space Doctor (a time traveling sci-fi parody with monsters, aliens, octopus, and a bearded ship captain), but we DID make it on time for our first ever SILENT DISCO TOUR.

If you haven’t silent discoed yet, it’s basically a choreographed flash mob of strangers, dancing through a city, led by a wackadoodle ‘tour guide’ wearing rainbow tights and a sequined jacket.  (My next gig?)  While dance classics blast through your noise-canceling headphones (JT, Bruno, Cher, Julie Andrews- the gang was all there), the tour guide calls out when to pop, lock, shake, and wave, and if you’re LUCKY, even points out a few sights along the way.  If not, at least you know where the University of Edinburgh library is now.

we saw one sight.  WORTH IT.

Two buses and a train later, we arrived in Glasgow (glahz-goe) for the Buchanan Street shopping scene (there’s a TK Maxx and a Pound World), the adorable cobbled backstreets of West End (Ashton Lane is a MUST), the Necropolis (Victorian city of the dead), the Glasgow Cathedral (why does St. Mungo’s tomb have such an extensive display of Lego artwork?), and, finally, Glasgow Green (the oldest park in the city) for the 2018 World Pipe Band Championships.

General Thoughts on the Pipe Band Championships

• Bagpipes confuse me.
• You tuck a goose under your arm, a gobstopper in your cheek, play a fiddle down by your waistline while 3 clarinets connected by colored string rest on your shoulder top?  When do you squeeze the goose?  How gentle do you need to be?  Do you readjust the pipes?  Does the fiddle ever fall out?  Do taller pipes mean more advanced?  Do you take it apart for easy transfer?  Does the arm holding the goose bag get twice as strong or do you have to switch arms?  Please take your time.
• I’m fully aware that this was a bagpipe competition (world renowned since 1930), but the drummers were distracting me with their drum stick pom poms.
• Spin spin spinning those drum stick pom poms in elaborate traffic control patterns and BARELY DRUMMING AT ALL.  It was hypnotizing.  And incredibly inefficient.
• You know you’re traveling with a mom of small children when we listened to a magic marker presentation in one of the vendor booths for 20 minutes.
• Before buying two packs.
• I mean they were super cool markers…… that changed color like magic.  And ERASED color like magic.  Right before our eyes.  ‘Larry!  LAARRRRYYYY!  Get over here and look at this.  You can color in reverse.’
• I propose that, from this point forward, all judges for all sports wear kilts during competitive events.  A kilt paired with a clipboard strikes the perfect balance between ‘we’re here to judge your every move’ and ‘our balls are lightly swaying in the wind’.
• Why don’t Irish dancers smile?  Sorry for the transition.
• Are they not supposed to?  Will they be deducted points?  Or is it because their calves are on fire?  Also, do they all wear white, ruffle-ly dickies under their heavy velvet skirt suits?  Because, genius.
• Can we look for fudge samples?  Oo!  Donuts!

Did I mention my sister was a trooper?

And a grade A sport who went with the flow even though two outta the three Airbnbs I booked had tightie whities hanging on drying racks in the common room…… and one smelled like taco meat?

Did I mention that I looooooveeeeee her?

Well, I dragged my GEM of a sister through a 2.5-day road trip to the tippy top of Scotland, through the Scottish Highlands and purple fields of heather and Cairngorm National Park, past the fancy honey shops and whisky barrel houses……… for the sole purpose of volunteering at one of the largest ecovillages in the UK.

you wanted to spend your vacation volunteering, right?

The Findhorn (fin-horn) Foundation is an NGO slash spiritual community (in Forres, Scotland) focused on inner guidance, cohabitation with nature, making the world a better place, bup bup bup…… and it offers programs for short term guests to get their hands dirty in the garden, or work with a food processor named Gandolph in the kitchen.

We, of course, opted to volunteer in the vegetarian kitchen (definitely not vegan judging by the generous amounts of Scottish cheddar being used) under the tutelage of a kitchen momma named Swan.  I spread lentils with my fingers; George Jor wore these SWEET ski goggles while chopping onions; and we tag teamed a zucchini-millet-raisin hail mary in the final hour.

Not on campus long enough for any Hallmark made-for-TV movie breakthroughs (besides teaching that Japanese woman, named Tomoko, a few Swahili songs that we sang together while chopping cauliflower), Jor and I settled for a pre-shift, candlelit atonement session where Swan asked the angels of joy and efficiency to guide us during the shift…… and a Taizé singing meditation in the Nature Sanctuary the following morning.  (Meditation through the repetition of short songs & simple prayers in an acoustic dome packed with bodies.)

you’re the best.  and you’re so so sexy.

attack kisses for dennis, featuring me, george & swan

Can it be true that THIS trip was our FIRST EVER SOLO SISTER trip?

Jordonian!  George!  J Bird!  Dennis Plotch!  Our very first solo trip together and it went off like hotcakes!  You, with your weird neck exercises, sinking your chin into your neck and jutting it back out again…… asking bus drivers too many questions to which they’d finally say, ‘I need to drive my bus now’……. falling asleep on every mode of transport because jet lag is real…… and cracking me UP with your running list of what to ask google when we get back to the land of wifi.

Who sings this song?  What’s the name of that guy?  Where are we?  What’s that?  How many feet in a meter?  Is this Janis Joplin?

Thank you for amazing memories that I’ll cherish forever.  Thank you for splitting most every meal.  And thank you for the pumice stone.  (Also, thanks for not freaking out with the stench of that taco meat apartment…… and for power speedwalking through tourists so we didn’t miss the beginning of the silent disco.)  I love you so much and I promise that next time we can stay in one city.

come back and volunteer with me! ha

and fall asleep in cars next to me!

and split fried chicken two ways with me!

here’s our failed attempt at countdown timer pics from our road trip…

before we asked a nice man on a bicycle to take one for us

Goodbye, mon ami.  Safe travels and see you soon.  xoxo

Now, I’m off to work on a pig farm outside Glasgow for the next three weeks!  Woop woop!

And (just in case you were wondering) Larry’s still warming up.