Scotty Land.areyouforrealz

 

I was gleefully aware that Scotland was going to be an epic trip when my journal started with these three quotes from Day 1 of our journey:

1.      “Tequila, Tongues, and Thunderstorms.  The three Ts of life!” ~me

2.      “Sleeping with dinosaurs is never a good idea.” ~Megan Young

3.      “You’re as blind as a zubat!” ~Garrett Neigh

Epic.

The following is an actual transcribed piece of my journal while in Scotland.  This is a rare peek at who I am, as the following entry will contain no editing, sans a few spelling adjustments and grammatical changes to my otherwise self deprecating prose.  So here we go: CAUTION.

28/10/10 (How fancy am I, using the UK way to assert a date?  I think it’s kind of sexy…)

“Andy, not Tony, is the name of our tour guide.  He wears a shirt that says ‘WILD and SEXY’ in giant block letters and a green and white kilt.  ‘If you call it a skirt,’ he quickly reminds us, ‘You will be punished.’  I think he winks after he says punished and everyone laughs uncomfortably with wide eyes and toothy grins.  It’s comical, his outfit, and I wonder how long he plans on wearing the same thing.  It might change tomorrow, but I am guessing that it will just be a similar shirt and the same exact kilt.  I won’t mind.  I think it’s endearing, and not even in a sad, pitiful way.  I like him because he’s no one other than himself and he doesn’t even seem to be trying to impress us.  Andy just genuinely wants us to enjoy our time here in Scotland.  So far, he’s accomplished that goal.  He tells bad jokes about deaf people and makes fun of vegetarians.  I suddenly think of everything Mike Meyers has ever done successfully: Austin Powers and So I Married an Axe Murderer. (To be fair, Wayne’s World is legit, but the Scottish flavor isn’t nearly as prevalent.  Okay, Austin Powers is British, so what?  Accents.  That’s all.)  His humor is sometimes lost on us, and often his puns are too much, eliciting pity laughs and forced smiles.  Still we all nod along because he’s better than any other guide we’ve had by a mile…at least a mile.

“So we’ve left the station and we stop 45 minutes up the road at the William Wallace Memorial.  For those of you who know me well, you are well aware that I LOVE trouncing through the woods, grasping at thin trees and sturdy, deep-rooted stumps.  If you can do it off the beaten path, give it a try, that’s how I feel.  I’m not sure if I’ve always been an explorer, but it’s been characteristic of me since at least 1996.  Before then, who know what I was like?  (I can already see my mom’s face lighting up with wide eyes and a crooked smile just thinking of how to wittily let the world know that she knows what I was like.  Whatever.  It’s an expression, mumsy.)  Today, I retapped that well of youth.

“ ‘You know who you remind me of?’ asks Kelly, smiling.  We are surrogate siblings. 

‘No, who?’

‘Peter Pan.’

‘I’ll take that,’ I say honestly.  ‘But I’d take Rafiki too.  Either one, really.’ 

“Everyone takes the heavily beaten path and disregards my invitations to scale the lesser travelled portions of the hill.  By lesser travelled, I mean I’m lucky I didn’t plunge to my death off the side of the hill or put a foot through a rotten, fallen trunk or stumble upon a nest of rabid ferrets beneath some moss riddled rocks.  Do they have ferrets in Scotland?  OMG.  What if I just barely missed a den of them on the steep descent from the monument?!  I should have taken more pictures on my way up to the hill, but I was too distracted by my wandering imagination to actually remove my camera from my pocket.  (Why didn’t I have that in a safer place again?)  Maybe if I’d taken more snapshots I would have spotted some ferrets on the hillside and been able to capture them on film.

“Turns out:  Ferrets are not indigenous to Scotland.  Sad face here?

“When I got to the base of the hill, I washed my adventure stained hands; greens and browns rinsed out like camouflage in the sink.  I beat everyone down the hill and back onto the bus because, as Izzy has pointed out, I am a restless “nine-year-old boy.” 

“Right, I’m at a coffee shop/souvenir joint with two cows you can feed bags of vegetables to.  They enjoy potatoes more than Jacque, and that girl loves potatoes.  Poor girl was feeding one of the lovely bovines and was chomped at her fingertips.  She washed her hands. (Editor’s Note: Was that last sentence necessary?  I actually wrote, in my own private journal, ‘She washed her hands.’  Sometimes, I’m such a Christopher Robin.)

“I buy an Americano (double) and board the bus.  We travel through Glen Ogle, ‘The Valley of the Dead,’ before stopping at a waterfall to take advantage of some photo opportunities.  Andy does not advise hopping the brick barrier and I do not listen because I am a child.  NO one joins me, but Izzy and Jenny and Jacque take photos to appease my whining.  There is a little run off behind the bricks that pales miserably in comparison to the two plummeting falls beyond it.  Still, it’s trying to fulfill some role of wonderment like its much larger brother and sister.  A for effort, little waterfall!  I talk to the runoff: ‘What are you doing little guy?’  He splashes in response.  I don’t pretend to speak waterfall, but he seemed pretty jovial.  I imagine that Rafiki speaks waterfall.  I become bitter that Peter Pan is seen as more accurate—though, the stool from Beauty and the Beast is probably my most fitting Disney character.  You know, the one that’s actually a puppy in real life?  Sweet.  Jesus.

“Andy plays two Enrique Iglesias songs and some MJ while everyone laughs at his odd, sometimes uncomfortable joke matter.  We are slowly falling in love with him.

“When we get to the hostel, Fort Williams Backpackers Hostel, Mieke gives the room assignments and I somehow get the key to the guys’ room.  I lose it within a LITERAL minute.  I am not surprised, but I am overjoyed when I find it twenty minutes later in my pocket.  The adult toddler gets the key?  Silly, Mieke!

“It’s pouring out.  We go to a little pub for Tex Mex.  Scottish Tex Mex.  For the record: Ass Kicking Good.  I also enjoyed the best double gin and tonic I have ever had.  It was one of those drinks that just makes jelly of your spine and slumps you into contentment regardless of how stiff-backed your barstool is.  On the way home, I press ahead of everyone while the rain showers heavily upon us.  Drops fall from my hat, slide over my new short, short hair (that I DESPISE) and over my lips and into the corners of my mouth.  It tastes like rain, like it should, and I feel a stressful combination of happiness and anxiety.  It’s hard to be certain, but I think I am feeling how I did when I was a child.  I listen to Happiness by The Fray and ask them to explain to me how ‘happiness feels a lot like sorrow’ and why I totally get it.

29/10/10 (Look!  I did it again!  God.  I am so European.)

“Good Morning, Scotland!

“Even though you came oh-so-early, I still am high off your beauty and the scent of your rain.  (Also, I write things, sometimes, that are way too much.  I wonder how I ever got to be so gay when I write.  Yawn.)

“We start the morning off right: a walk down to the local bakery for a fresh pastry.  I had a chocolate long john for the first time since, oh I dunno, I was five.  It was De.Lish.Us. Nom Nom Nom.  (Editor’s Note: Yes, I actually write shit like this down.)  When we got back to the hostel, I take a cold shower and apologize to my balls for putting them through that torture.  When in Rome, right?  The cold shower seemed to be an apt omen for the coming day.  We drop off our stuff on the bus. It’s a mile walk away, uphill both ways, in flash flood conditions.  Whatever.  It’s worth it because on the way back down I receive the following text message:  ‘The result from your Chlamydia screening are: NEGATIVE.  For more information on your results please…”  I laugh and giggle because I’ve never been more excited to receive a text in my life!  (Editor’s Note: No, friends in family, I wasn’t worried that I had an STD.  The Wednesday [Tuesday?] before we left for Scotland I took a free STI screening for a guy and girl in the lobby of our residence hall.  I think that free testing is really, really important and that the volunteer work they do is crazy admirable.  They are people that really care about keeping people aware of their bodies and their health; it’s super cool that we live in a place that supports such high levels of self awareness.  Also, I got condoms, lube, and underwear—kinda hot, actually—out of the deal.  Score.)  Anyway, I laugh about it with Izzy because I try to convince her that I was worried.  She comforts me until I can’t help but crack a mischievous smile. 

“We take an amazing train ride on the FUCKING HOGWARTS EXPRESS(!) through the Scottish highlands.  Translation: the first three hours of Friday kicked far too much ass.  The leaves have started their decline in color and we are surrounded by shades of fire in the heart of the Scottish highlands.  Along the way, over a long and winding road, we stopped at a quaint little station that was just after our journey over the aqueduct used in the Harry Potter films.  There was a brilliant woodland path that was carved out with little streams and covered in giant arms of cedar trees.  Have you smelt cedar in the closing weeks of autumn?  Did you die of bliss too?  Thought so.  It smelled like Christmas, which immediately made me contemplative about this whole experience.  Christmas outside of London?  Huh.

“Upon boarding the train, or reboarding I guess, I was even more submerged into thought while the train passed by rocks and isles jutting from the various lochs.  When the windows steamed over and became opaque, I wrote out ‘It’s overwhelming how fortunate we are’ on the glass.

“We got off the train in Mallaig where we had a light lunch by the harbor and departed on our wild and sexy tour bus.  Then, when we were just ten minutes or so out of the tiny fishing village, something very strange happened.  There was an evident shift in weight on the bus as if everyone had decided to pile into just four seats on one side of the vehicle.  Then, because Izzy and I were sitting so close to the head of the bus, we hear Andy say, ‘I think we have a flat.’  We stop.  Turns out we didn’t have a flat tire. No, we LOST a whole wheel!  How’s that for exciting?!  Everyone around was moaning and groaning about lost time, but my eyes were bright and full of enthusiasm! What an adventure!  We could go climbing and hiking and exploring and  we can run and dance and play and, and, and…!  And then it rained.  Hard.  So, we were stranded on the long and winding road for quite some time in the chilly, heavy rainfall.  Andy put on a film called Trainspotting. I loved it.  If anyone wants to talk about it, let me know?  Let’s have coffee and talk about recreational drug use and gratuitous barfighting?

“So Wally, our new bus driver, was listening to dirty pop when we were filing on and I was so impressed that I started dancing in my seat.  Our organizer noticed my awkward rendition of middle school dancing and suddenly I felt flustered so I laughed nervously and turned into my seat.  Not like I became my seat, but I physically moved my face and smothered myself with the tacky blue and red fabric.

“The lost time was kind of a bummer for most of our group; our lack of a safe number of tires for travelling meant that we would be skipping the boat tour on Loch Ness.  Sure, it was a letdown, but life is literally littered with them, so it’s important to just roll with the punches.  Really, being upset about it wasn’t going to help or change the fact that we weren’t going to follow our intricate itinerary.  Whateva, brothah!

“We did a little hike by the aqueduct we had trained over and it was neat.  To see any Harry Potter references in real life is hardly a bummer.  The rain and the time combined in an unfortunate way for our trip to the hostel.  We didn’t make any more stops, sans a short blip at Urquhart Castle to get back on a brand spank’n new WILD AND SEXY bus!  It felt better to be back on a bus so fitting of myself and my travel companions. Why shouldn’t it be advertised that we’re damn fine and crazy?

“The hostel is adorable.  We were given a free meal: tatties, Scottish broth, bread, and (DUN DUN DUN!) haggis.  And you know what?  It was good.  Wasn’t anything to write home about—though, so it seems, bares mentioning to the whole world—but it was, at the very least, decent.  After supper, we were given some traditional Scottish dance lessons.  I feel like I should make a separate blog about these dandies, but just let me say, in summary: SWEATY BETTY.  We danced.  A lot.  We followed dancing up with a giant, near all-inclusive game of Things.  (Editor’s Note: Things is kind of like Apples to Apples.  You all submit a category like ‘things you eat’ or ‘things you could never get away with a drag bar without being called out by the host queen.’  Then, everyone submits an answer that is read aloud by the reader.  Then, in a circle, you take turns guessing who said what.  It’s fun.)  Here were some of my favorite categorical answers: Things that are Scottish: Tape; Things that you do while naked: Rumple-my-stilt-skin, put clothes on, and Cockfosters; Things that remind you of Milk: Sean Penn and Boobz.  I would definitely say the game was a success.  Times like tonight serve as a great reminder that there are some really great people in this program, and not just the ones you typically hang out with.

"So I am writing in the hostel lounge/miniature dining room.  The tablecloth under the plastic cover is made up of halved and whole fruits.  They look like apples, stem and cores and all, but they are orange.  I wonder why, first, and then I ask myself why it matters.  Why shouldn’t there be orange apples?  When I fall asleep tonight in our hell-heated room, I realize that I am the human equivalent of an orange apple.  Cool.

30/10/10  <---  Huh, huh?  Pretty nifty, right?

“Wait, did I just write that it is October 30^th?

Nope.  No I did not.  Ignorance is bliss!

“I’m the first person at breakfast and that’s odd because I am not a breakfast person.  An orange here, a slice of toast there; never have been one for food in the morning.  My unruly amount of energy typically comes in the form of an insulated paper cup and a corn-plastic lid.  Most days it’s an extra shot kind of morning as I have never cared much for the freshest hours of any given day. Still, I eat some granola with yogurt and shower in our Bible Camp Bathroom and get dressed for what is already a wet, wet day.  I sit with Jenny Katz—HolyshithowluckyamIZOMG?—on our bus ride to the shore of Loch Ness.  Apparently, the loch is 24 miles long on its most lengthy side.  We take pictures of the shoreline and of the nasty little replica of Nessie.  It’s purple.  I have images of Barney swimming over the dirty water.  He drowns in his dinosaur suit because, really, what idiot goes swimming in a giant costume?

“Barney.  That’s who.

“Really, I am just jealous because I never got to watch that shit when I was little.  I did watch/get brainwashed by copious amounts of Veggietales.  (Suddenly I am feeling so sassy/pouty!  I think it’s because I am in the middle of a very embittering chapter of the book I am currently reading.  No good! Not the book, that’s plenty fantastic.  It’s the attitude that needs to change; maybe the next chapter will be more uplifting.  And now I have realized that, even though the book doesn’t belong to me, I have stuck little post-its all over its pages to mark my favorite parts/quotes.  Woops!  Cleaning that soon, I prom!)

 

“Following Loch Ness, we go to this little bitty building just up the road that stands behind a giant sign reading ‘REINDEER CENTER.’  Holy.  Shit.  Is this a joke?  We get to play with reindeer?  Like, no, real Santa Claus reindeer?  My eyes are wider than they have been all trip.

We rent Wellies for the trip up for a mere 50p; they’re HAWT.  Super sexy rainboots that make me want to buy a pair for this London weather or just to have and keep forever.  We also get to hike up a mountain to see the refuge.  For a moment, which I will get to in a sec, I thought I might actually be dead and be in heaven.  So we hike.  We meet our first reindeer and his name is Shamrock.  It is immediately decided that if I were a reindeer, I would be him.  He can’t be let in to the fenced area, which is enormous, by the way, because he’s a trouble maker and then complains when he gets hurt.  Ha ha, Shamrock.

Work, deer!

“The reindeer let you feed them by hand.  They are actually the most adorable creatures I’ve seen since I left Scout back home in the states.  (Ugh, I miss that black lab so much.  Lucee too, sometimes, and even Mambo every once in a while.)  Some of the deer are losing the velvet on their antlers and what’s left is an odd combination of stringy, blankety fuzz and blood, blood, blood.  Odd indeed.  Still, they are great. Naturally I was most impressed with the one deer that walked on the board walk right in front of me the whole way through the first section of the refuge.  That was one fierce-ass deer.  The rest of deer were fantastic too. 



Not Pictured: Light Snow Flurry



“There was a magic moment shortly after meeting the reindeer that I think I will probably remember until I take my last breath in this world (hopefully while dancing with Lady Gaga on top of the Taj Mahal).  We hiked three quarters of the great hill we were standing on and looked back down on the reindeer we had just fed.  Off in the distance, two sides of a rainbow touched down to earth, illuminating some pots of gold.  Other students started singing numbers from the Sound of Music and then there was the icing on the cake: it started to snow.  Lightly, and just for a quick, fleeting moment, it snowed.  I fed reindeer on a beautiful mountain while singing My Favorite Things and grasping at the flurries of snow falling in front of a rainbow.  Are you kidding me, life?  I hope you’re not, because that was so goddamn awesome.

“We drive to the little town of Aviemore and stop for a brief lunch before getting on the road to Edinburgh.  And by brief, I mean shovel half of your lunch into your mouth until you have NO TIME LEFT before you need to get back on the bus.  Luckily, Jenny has a janky ass Ziploc bag that you and Izzy can stuff your fajitas into and eat them on the bus while listening to Toxic by Britney and Walking on Broken Glass by Annie Lennox and Feeling This by Blink 182.  Good times, good times.

“The countryside is amazing, but I think that Edinburgh is actually the most beautiful city I’ve been in.  The streets, the buildings, the people.  Everything about it is attractive and aesthetically pleasing.  Especially the bartender at our hostel…hello.  (Editor’s note:  Why I didn’t journal about this little snippet is beyond me, but here’s a story.  So, we’re leaving Scotland and we’re hanging out at the station when, suddenly, there on a bench right by all of our bags and food is the bartender from the hostel bar, 50. 

I say to Izzy, ‘ZOMG, that’s the guy from the bar!’

‘Oh.  Weird, it is.’

‘He’s so cute.’

‘Go talk to him!’

‘I can’t just go…Wait.  We’re reading the same book.’

‘It’s a sign.  Do it.’

Someone from the crowd in front of us, sitting: ‘remember when we realized he was hitting on Megan because he’s straight?’

I vaguely remember—though I shouldn’t at all given my state Saturday evening—but it doesn’t really matter.  My mind is preocupied with someone else in London.

‘Blerg.’) 

"We have some drinks at our hostel and we leave for our haunted tour of the city shortly after.  I don’t scare that easily, so I thought the tour was kind of lame.  But the night was to get much, much better, so I cannot even waste another sentence with complaints.  Saturday night is another story, for another time…like tomorrow or the next day.  I promise it’s a good one!

31/10/10  (Please don’t make me celebrate Halloween again.  My head hurts and I think that my liver is actually going to murder me in my sleep.  Nonetheless, happy holidays!)

Halloween Preview



“Sunday mornings are beautiful everywhere, I think.  There is something so calming about the start of a brand new week that is so cleansing.  Sundays in Scotland are no different.  We enjoy a delicious comp’d meal in the hostel before heading out to Edinburgh Castle for some photo ops.  I have one of those overwhelming moments in the middle of the Scottish War Memorial and have to leave, teary eyed, before things get too out of hand.  Some places just have energy, you know?  Steve, Izzy, Jamie, Michael, and I roam the streets and eventually arrive at the Gothic Rocket which three of us climb for a few pounds.  The view from the top is unreal.  With one turn to the left or the right, the city is completely different.  Old and new in one beautiful, beautiful place.  I hear it’s rainy all the time in Scotland: I am very lucky with weather in the UK.  The sun could not be shinier in the bright, blue sky.  We make some souvenir purchases and head for the train platform. 

“Hey, platform 9, haven’t seen you in a while!  What’s that, you’re taking me home?  Oh you crafty devil, you, I’m not ready to leave!  I have to?  Blerg!

“When we get back to London, five hours later, I have this weird feeling of weightlessness.  I feel like I can fly all the way back from South Kensington and slip through our open window on the 8^th floor.  Sure, I’m exhausted, but I wouldn’t mind.  Not one bit.  Peter Pan does it all the time!  If I’m so like him, then this should be no problem.  Even better: if I can’t fly home, that means I really am Rafiki!  (Or that damn puppy stool thing)  If I feel like flying, then I better damn well try. 

 

“So I do.

“I am not sure if I actually flew or if I just ended up in my bed with all of my laundry done and talking to my awesome roommate about his weekend with the ‘rents.

“I dream about the highlands and I wake up with a giant smile on my face, a smile that looks so familiar to the ones I’ve seen on my face for the last two months.  I kinda like it.”

Right.  So.  There’s some words from my journal.  Unless they’re Editor’s Notes, they’re direct quotes from the pages of my life.  When I reread this, I will feel silly and young and like I’m partially nuts. 

I’ll like that.