Scotland: Day 5

Last day in Scotland! Last day in Scotland! I don’t waaaaaaaaaanna go!

I had an early train to London, but I managed to get up at 8am to do a couple museumy things before I left town. First I went to the Edinburgh Museum which was STELLAR. They had the stuffed corpse of the Dolly the cloned sheep on display, and I was more than tickled that they didn’t even bother pulling off the poop dingleberries she had stuck under her tail.

Dingleberry Dolly

Next I paid too much money to visit Gladstone’s Land–a 15th century house left untouched for centuries. It was 5 stories tall, but visitors only have access to 1.5 stories. What a rip-off! I was done seeing it in 20 minutes, but then I struck up a conversation with one of the volunteer historians who was 80, deaf, and hysterical. He had the BEST stories, but I had to rush out to catch my train.

I had specifically requested the “Quite Car” on the train so that I could sleep during the trip. Of course–OF COURSE–an African woman in a huge headdress with 4 tiny kids had parked in the middle of the traincar and was letting the kids run amok–screaming, crying, shaking chairs. She spoke loudly on the phone in French for half the trip. I seethed. I was out of my seat about 6 times preparing to confront them, but each time I stood up I looked around at the other passengers who seemed oblivious to the noise. Hmm. If I’m the only one bothered, then maybe it’s earplug time.

Once in London, I transferred directly to the tube and took the hourlong train to the airport. At the airport I transferred to the Hoppa Bus which takes you to local airport hotels. The bus cost 4 pounds and took 2 minutes to drive me to my Inn. Disembarking I grumbled, “I coulda walked”. And walk I did, after dropping off my luggage in my room, to a local pub with a thatched roof and hundreds of years of history. It was called the White Horse. It oozed character–low ceilings, dark wooden beams, locals talking about neighborhood gossip. I loved it.

The White Horse

Tomorrow Mom and Christy arrive!! I can’t wait!!

Scotland: Day 4

In the morning my 3 Australian roommates swore up and down that the “New Europe Walking Tour” was the best tour the city had going. It was 4 hours long and it was FREE. They told me to request a guy named Max as he was both handsome and hysterical. At the tour’s meeting point I asked a chubby indian girl with 3rd world exzcema if Max was leading a tour that day. “No he’s not, and I’m offended that you would even ask.” Egads. So of course Ms Leprosy was my tour guide, resplendent in terrible jokes and non-stop hiccups. Fortunately the information was incredibly interesting, so I hung in there for about 2.5 hours. During our lunch break I stopped at a placed called “Oink” where a roast pig is sat in the front window. When you get a sandwich, they literally pull the meat off the pig and put it in a bun. I gagged on every bite.

The White Hart Inn: Est 1516

View of the castle through an alley

I had to duck out of the walking tour early because I had Fringe tickets to see Rhys Darby. Rhys is my favorite character on “The Flight of the Conchords”, a ginger New Zealander who was apparently the Belle of the Fest last year. Well, I don’t know what happened between last year and this year, but Rhys was unfunny. Defunny. Antifunny. I was sitting in the front row (like a proper nerd) but all I could do was smile encouragingly and then sigh with relief when it was over. I needed a drink.

I headed to the Haymarket to have a drink at Maggie Dicksons pub. In the olden days, the Haymarket is where public hangings took place. Maggie Dickson is famous for being hung, pronounced dead, and then waking up in her coffin a few minutes later. She was already punished for her crime so she was off the hook. Bazoingo!

Haymarket

After a couple drinks I headed across the road to attend a free show that caught my eye. It was called “The Laughter Police”, and it was a one-man show starring a copper named Alfie who is still actively serving as a police officer in England. His show is part standup comedy and part retelling insane stories of things that have happened to him. I was one of 5 people in the room (and one of them was his wife). This broke my heart as Alfie was HYSTERICAL. I was doubled-over crying for most of the hour. This guy was sooo not polished and slick, he was just an average Joe telling crazy stories about his life and he was incredible. After his performance I begged about 50 flyers off him to post in my Hostel. His wife came up and thanked me for my laugh. “It’s very, very loud.” Yes, I’ve been told that.

Later that night I met up with my 3 Australian roommates in the New Town. So far I had only been in the Old Town, the historic quarter of Edinburgh. The New Town looks a lot like Bath–very Georgian and stately. We went to the Voodoo club for a couple free Fringe show–one was a contortionist comedian who was the spitting image of Russel Brand. He looked like him, sounded like him, acted like him. A guy in the audience was having his bachelor party and was surrounded by about 20 very handsome Scots. I kept elbowing the Australians telling them we should go leach onto their party. My ladies were very unreceptive. Later on the contortionist began heckling the Aussies and he asked two of the girls how they knew each other. “She’s my girlfriend”. Ahhhh… Lesbians. That explains it.

The second comedy show was also excellent (except for one shitty female comedian who told me to stop laughing so loud). Bitch, you’re not even that funny! I’m just drunk! Also, stop hurting my feelings.

I hit my pillow around 1am, so proud that I finally did something social in Edinburgh

Scotland: Day 3

I went to the FREE Children’s Museum when I woke up and I had a blast! It’s amazing how many creepy dolls children have played with. Any doll with fangs ain’t getting in my playpen. Here are some of the choice toys:

Puss in Boots aka Fangs in Puss in Boots

Melty, balding, waxy baby

Bone in a dress

The gayest game on earth

After that I headed to the free People’s Museum which was so bad it was good. Lots of plastic, life-sized people holding signs for women’s votes and the like. Pretty terrible. I rounded out my free museum tour at the Museum of Edinburgh which was also pretty grim (I discovered later on that it’s the paying museums that have hoarded all the good stuff).

For lunch I headed to the Grassmarket and sat in an outside Biergarten called The Beehive eating mediocre food and drinking yummy “soothes what ails ya” shandies. I had about an hour to kill before heading to my first fringe festival show. “Potted Potter” is all 7 of the Harry Potter books in 60 minutes, and I thought it could be a nice way to celebrate the books with fellow nerds. Unfortunately I didn’t account for the terrible jokes, horrible acting, and general lack of any real Harry Potter references. Even kids were groaning at jokes.

I rushed out and on to a free comedy show starring some chubby Irishman, hoping it would cleanse the pallette. Le groan. I snuck out after 10 minutes motioning to my empty pint glass.

And then, miracle of miracles, I stumbled upon what would be the highlight of my day. An all brass oompah band was playing at an outdoor biergarten down the road, and every single musician was muscly and young and handsome. I sat next to 7 hugely fat women at the beginning of a hen night (bachelorette party) and their feistiness riled up the band. We got the fellas dancing on tables, sliding trombones down our shirts, and more general tomfoolery.

toot!

I was heartbroken–HEARTBROKEN–when I had to sneak out to attend the Edinburgh Tattoo–a giant massing of military bands from around the world strutting their stuff at Edinburgh Castle. It’s impossible to get tickets (I had bought the last ticket to tonight’s performance a month earlier), so I knew I couldn’t miss it. The show was generally pretty good (I’m pretty sure I was the only person in attendence under 73), but I felt a little gipped when I realized I had tickets to the early show. That means the sun was still out and I didn’t get to see the castle lit up all beautifully in the background. Also, the later show finished with fireworks–FIREWORKS!!

Edinburgh Tattoo Finale

The audience. Average age: 97

After the Tattoo was over I raced back to see if the Oompah band was taking the stage again, but they were replaced by a DJ playing techno music. Buzzkill. I moped back to the Royal Mile, closely followed by a French butcher who wanted to buy me a drink. “Listen Francoise…” “My name’s Mohammed.” “Perfect.” I ducked into the first restaurant I saw. The restaurant? The Filling Station. An American-themed Route 66 type place. Screw it, I was hungry, I was lonely, and the cheesy American decor amused me. I had haggis balls and spaghetti. My waitress, sensing my loneliness, stopped by my table no less than 30 times to check on me. Maybe the spaghetti sauce all over my shirt alarmed her.

Later that night I layed in bed listening to the firework finale at the second Edinburgh Tattoo performance and softly cursed into my pillow.

Scotland: Day 2

Time to nerd out like a tourist! I met my tour group at 7:45am before we piled on our minibus adventure. Our driver/tour guide, Angus, was a wealth of Scottish knowledge, and you could tell he was really passionate about his country’s history. Weird tidbit–his eyelids were sunburned. Blech. The first place we stopped was a little town called Pitlochry where we could all pick up picnic supplies to eat on our boat tour of Loch Ness. Knowing my stomach and boats (and busses for that matter), I tucked the food aside.

Ah Loch Ness. I should have packed a sweater. You forget that, although it’s the middle of summer, this is Scotland, and we’re on a boat chugging across the water. Le brr. I sat at the very front of the boat, directly next to the captain’s in the wheelhouse. He slid open the window to make some light conversation with me which I found helpful as it distracted from the cold. Let me just say, Loch Ness is really beautiful and really BIG TIME (said with a Jamaican accent), but I didn’t find anything spectacular about it. I loved watching the Asian tourists on the boat with their super long lens cameras trained on the water, waiting for the next sighting of Nessie and their subsequent check for 1 bazillion dollars.

Loch Ness

I leaned in and asked the captain if any of his tourists have ever claimed to photograph something in the Loch. He raised an eyebrow, “Oh yes, twice, but I pointed it out first.”

“Well, what did you point out?”

“The first time it was just one big hump, a mature male I’d guess, and then next time there were several smaller humps—a pod of them.”

“A pod of WHAT?”

“You know what.”

I sat back, quiet for a minute. This guy was obviously pulling my leg, but he was so nonchalant about it. Stop being so nonchalant about it!

I leaned back into the wheelhouse, “What are they called?” Smartypants.

“Macroplata—descendents of the plesiosaur. Check out this equipment.” He gestured up at hundreds of thousands of dollars of sonar equipment he had lining the wheelhouse. “I have my PhD in marine biology and I’ve been working on this Loch for 20 years documenting these creatures. Now I work for MIT and they love the readings and the data they’re getting. Look, check this out.”

He handed over some handheld device with a picture of a sleek, large, reptilian hump coming out of the water with water dripping down the side of it. “I was kayaking around sunset when she crested right next to me. And look at this one…” He skipped forward again on his device and showed me a picture of…something. Something icky. “This is part of a carcass that washed up on shore . The hind legs and the tail mostly. Wasn’t able to find any of the reproduction organs so I don’t know if it’s a him or a her.”

At this point I didn’t know if I was placating an old coot who’s been at sea too long, or if I was about to stumble into some awesome cover-up.

“How many have you seen?”

“Hmm…in person? 17. On sonar…oh, I’d say about 750 sightings.”

“What! How does no one know about this!?”

At this point he gets very serious and pointed. “Because we don’t WANT them to know. If word gets out that they’re in here, then we’ve got every big game fisherman in the world coming here. One man offered 2.5 million dollars to anyone who could catch Nessie so he could mount her on his wall. Can you imagine? MOUNT her! These are sensitive, developed creatures who operate using sonar, and if we start disturbing their environment, who knows what would happen to them. No, they’re best left alone. It’s good enough that some of the world’s best scientific minds are looking after them.”

I stared at this nearly toothless man and wondered… Was this all hogshit? Could this toothless tour boat captain really have a PhD from Oxford? If any of this was true, then why was he telling me?—because no one would believe me? It was more exciting to believe him. And I wasn’t the only one—sitting behind me and pretending not to listen was a nerdy Indian pre-teen with coke bottle glasses who was visibly intrigued by the captain’s tale.  After we docked I breathlessly reported back to the tour bus everything I had learned. Angus snorted and rolled his eyes, and that was the end of that.

The rest of the day was beautiful mountain after beautiful loch after beautiful glen. Angus kept assuring us that the weather was NEVER this good in Scotland, but we certainly weren’t complaining. We drove through Glen Coe and up to Ben Nevis. While walking back to the tourbus, I tripped over my feet and ripped my pants. Annoyingly, my knee started bleeding so I needed a band-aid. Back at the bus I asked Angus if he had a first aid kit.

Katy: Do you have a first aid kit?

Angus: Yes, why?

Katy: I just ate shit.

Angus: WHAT!?!?!?!?

Apparently “eating shit” is an American-specific slang term for “falling on your face”

The Highlands

Highland cemetery

Highlands

On the way back to the Edinburgh we convinced Angus to take us to Stirling castle for a couple photo ops–we were horrifically late back to the city and some hyperventilating Polish girls in the back finally figured out how to say, “We have a plane to catch! Why did you go to Stirling?”

View of William Wallace monunent from Stirling Castle

Back in the town I walked around in amazement at the transformation the city had undergone. Any space big enough for 5 people was transformed into a performing space. Everywhere you walked you were accosted by traveling musicians and men on stilts and tightropes and shrieking women dressed as ghosts handing out pamphlets begging you to attend their show. With thousands of shows in the Fringe, competition is fierce to get warm bodies through the door. Everywhere you turn is an impromptu outdoor beer garden or dance party. The excitement was infectious, but unfortunately I was too tired and sober to join in.

Fringe Festival outdoor bar

What did I have for dinner? French fries.

Scotland: Day 1

I had a 6:30am train out of Chester to Edinburgh, and Jack was kind enough to drive me, trance-like, to the station. I had just enough time to grab breakfast and a drink before the train rolled up. I was sitting in first class—hubba hubba—because for some reason it was cheaper than economy when I bought it. I discovered, to my disdain, that breakfast/juice/coffee were all complimentary in first class! I had just choked down some crappy eggy sandwich when I could have been luxuriating in FREE FOOD. Wah.

As soon as I walked off the train in Edinburgh I knew I was going to love it. Everything about it is beautiful. Even the ugly bits are beautiful.

The Royal Mile

My hostel (St. Christopher’s) was only a 5 minute walk from the bus station (convenient!) and perfectly placed between “Old Town” and “New Town”. I dropped of my luggage, walked back to the station and caught the Edinburgh Bus Tour of “Old Town”. When the bus finally wound its way up the hill in the center of town, I jumped out to visit Edinburgh Castle. The weather was sunny and gorgeous and I figured I better see as much as I can (as Scottish weather is notoriously finicky).

Edinburgh Castle

View of the city from the castle

The first thing I did at the castle was lose my digital camera. That’s not true—the FIRST thing I did was eat an ice cream, THEN I lost my camera. I was sitting on a bench, listening to my boring audio guide when the free tour I was waiting for started up behind me. I jumped up, eager to get a good spot in the throng. It took about 20 minutes of the tour before I wanted to take a picture of something…and that’s when I realized I had left my camera on the bench. Eep!

I ran back to where I was sitting but there was no camera. Nearby was the audio guide rental booth and I slunk up to them with my hands clasped in prayer under my chin and my frown in a perfect upside-down “U”. Before I could say anything the woman behind the counter said, “Could you describe your lost camera?” while the guy behind her chided, “Aw, just give it to her…” Apparently they had looked through my photos and recognized me as the poor shlub. Le sigh.

The rest of my time at the castle was uneventful. They have a few small museums scattered throughout it, but truth be told I got just as much enjoyment looking at it from the outside as I did from the inside. And the tickets weren’t cheap! Next trip to Edinburgh—the castle’s a pass.

View of the city from the castle

It was time to check into my hostel and as soon as I saw my bed I knew it was naptime. When I woke up I decided to treat myself to a little retail therapy—the night before I had realized during a phone call that I really was newly single and I felt sniffly all day. So I bought a new outfit at H&M—something I’d feel confident in when going out to pubs by myself in this new city. I had just read an article where a woman’s grandmother said, “Men are attracted to bright colors”, so I bought a bright yellow ruffled tank top, a lilac cardigan, and a matching lilac pin-on flower. Color me desperate!

I wandered the city a bit more until the tummy rumblings started. I headed to the Grassmarket—a lively area full of restaurants and pubs where, in the olden days, they used to sell livestock…oh, and it was also the sight of public hangings. I had dinner at “The Last Drop”, named for the location where the doomed would have one last drink before being hung.

Edinburgh at night

When I got back to my room it was LIGHTS OUT for me. I was exhausted, and tomorrow am taking a tour of the Scottish Highlands, and I have to be up at 7am.

Wales: Final Day

Huw is an artificial inseminator. His company calls him in the morning to let him know what heifers are “bulling” (the cow version of being “in heat”), and he drives from farm to farm shooting bull semen up their hoo-haa. It’s actually a really fast process. When we arrive at the farm, Huw goes into the back of the truck where the spermies are frozen in a cryogenic tank. The tube of swimmers is quickly dipped in room temperature water to shock them awake and get them all excited. The tube is put into an even longer tube which is inserted in the heifer’s vajay. Meanwhile, Huw has his other arm shoved really far up the heifer’s back side where he feels through the membrane for either the cervix or the ovaries…I can’t remember which. Either way, his poo-arm helps guide the process.

We saw about 16 farmers that day (which Huw did in record time). He had some time to kill before an early evening appointment, so he took me to the town of Llangollen for lunch.

Llangollen

Lunch!

We went to an adorable restaurant on the river called The Corn Mill. I loved it. We walked around town and had some disappointing ice cream, then he took me to see a really old aqueduct where we walked along one of the scariest bridges I’ve ever been on. I really can’t thank Huw enough for his tour-guidery; he’s got a future in it!

Crazy aqueduct

Me and Huw!

The last stop on the tour was Chester, England where I was spending the night with family friends. The only catch was that everyone was out of town except Jack, the eldest son. When I arrived there was no one home to great me except Herbie, the incredible sneezing dog. Jack and his school friends arrived soon after and we went out to dinner at a New Orleans-style restaurant. It’s hysterical to see what some places consider authentic American food (especially in a country where they call Ketchup “red sauce”).

Death on a British Farm

I found a pamphlet in Iola’s kitchen a few days before I left called “Death on a British Farm”. It lists all the obvious farm dangers to avoid, and a list of recent deaths and how they happened.

Before reading this, I probably participated in about 70% of the “obvious farm dangers to avoid”. I wish I had read this pamphlet BEFORE starting work!!

Kerplop

Wales: Day 26

Today was my last day on the farm! The most exciting thing we did today was try to move a heifer and her calf from a far field onto the mountain by the house. Tili, Hywel and I were assigned the task and it was pouring rain. It was very long and aggravating work, and it took a lot of hours to get the job done. Later in the day when the skies cleared, Hywel drove us up the mountain in a tractor to feed the calves, and I couldn’t believe the views from the top. North Wales is gorgeous, but I think the area around Derwydd might be the prettiest of it all. It was breathtaking.

After dinner, it was decided that I would spend the night at Huw’s house and accompany him to work the next day. After work he was going to drive me to Chester. I had a teary goodbye with Iola and the dogs (oh the dogs!!!), and Llyr, Coralie, Tili and I drove down the road to Huw’s. We had some drinks and some laughs, and then it was time for bed. My last night in Wales! Heartbreak!

Huw's adorable home

Last night with Llyr!

Wales: Day 25

Today is Iola’s birthday! I made her the American version of “French toast” for breakfast as she had never had it before. Ok, so in the UK they make a version called “eggy bread”, but it’s served as a savory breakfast instead of a sweet treat.

We needed to finish cleaning out the silage pit as Llyr was back in town and was collecting the silage today. Silage is long grass that is cut, fermented, and stored under a gigantic tarp to feed the cattle and sheep in the winter. The chemical they treat it with makes it smell like rotten cider and brings the sugars out in the grass. Apparently animals can’t get enough of this stuff. I think it smells like poo.

One of the things we did to prep the silage pit was line the entire inside with tarp before filling it with grass. To do this, Hywel had me climb into the tractor’s bucket, and lifted me about 20 feet in the air to anchor the tarp on the top of the pit’s walls. Exciting! Yet? Fear tinkles.

In the early afternoon I ran a few errands with Iola (mainly for Llyr’s silage harvest), and when we got home Iola got a crazy birthday surprise—a phone call from an Israeli girl at the bus station. Apparently Llyr had arranged for someone new to come work on the farm, but the dates had gotten all confused, and Iola was totally taken by surprise. Because Llyr was busy in the fields, Iola had to drive an hour to pick her up. Ack! I felt so bad for her.

While she and Coralie were gone I cleaned out my side of the room so the new girl would have somewhere to settle into. I set up camp on the couch since I was only in town a few more days. Finally I started making dinner—and it was quite an adventure trying to find all the cookware in the kitchen when Iola wasn’t home!

The slab!

The dinner menu:

Champagne cocktails

Prime rib rubbed in olive oil, salt, pepper and stuffed with garlic

Sour cream mashed red potatoes

Brussel sprouts

Yorkshire pudding

Red wine and thyme gravy

Some of the dinner party

Iola blowing out her candles!

We sat down for dinner at 7pm: It was me, Iola, Coralie, Tili (our new Israeli helper!), Nia and her boyfriend Rhys, Ieauan, Buddug, and Ollie. Ollie was supposed to be driving a tractor but he fell out of the cab right before dinner and injured his wrist. Llyr wanted Coralie to come out and take over for him, and I threw a fit in the kitchen. Coralie put a lot of time, energy and money into this birthday dinner and was all dressed up and excited—it just made me nuts! I knew the work needed to get done—you only have one day to put all the silage in the pit—but I just thought the timing stunk. Ieuan saved the day by driving the tractor, and we saved him a big plate of food for when he was done. Dinner was delicious and a lot of fun, and Coralie’s caramel tiramisu for dessert was a KILLER.

The roast beast

When dinner was over, we changed into crappy clothes and went outside to help finish up. I joined Hywel and Llyr in the silage pit covering all the soggy grass with tarp and weighing it down with car tires, while Coralie and Rhys helped brush all the mud off the road in front of the house. All the tires we used were filled with grimy old poo water and throwing them around turned the tarp into a disgusting slip ‘n slide.

The silage pit

Wales: Day 24

You know what there isn’t enough of on this farm? Cow sex. Well fasten your seatbelts—because the bulls knocked open the gate separating them from the cows this morning and they had a pretty raucous time. Ever since we got the cows in, there has been one bull in particular who was fixated on getting into the cow shed. When I was doing chores this morning, I heard some rather excited mooing from the shed. When I peeked in, the gate had been knocked open and there was a free-for-all inside. It was a cow-sex-circus. I ran and got Hywel who jumped into the pen and scared out the bulls. Yes, Hywel can scare bulls. He can be THAT intimidating.

This afternoon Huw took us shopping in Ruthin. It’s Iola’s birthday in a couple days and Coralie and I are planning on making a big dinner for the extended family. We needed to buy supplies, starting with…THE MEAT!!

I decided to make a prime rib dinner (called “rib of beef” here), and Huw took us to a local family butcher to buy the slab. We ended up getting a 12 lb chunk o’ meat. Do you know how big that is? Bigger than your head. (PS: I’m going to eat your face) (PPS: Probably)

Where butchery is a family affair

mmmmmmMeat

After meat, we headed to the supermarket to buy the rest of our provisions. Huw treated us to tea and cake at a sweet little place that I always wanted to try. On the way home, Huw drove us past the castle in Ruthin which was also next to a random Druid stone circle (they’re EVERYWHERE in Wales—bizarre).

Huw looking sultry

Sweet lil' teahouse

After dinner Huw took us to a local park where they are trying to re-introduce Przewalski’s horse to the “wilds” of a Welsh forest. This is a very rare and endangered species of horse—you may know it as the Mongolian Wild Horse.

Here is a photo of the very wild and never domesticated Przewalski’s horse. Brace yourself for it’s unbridled wildness…

Food begger