Thursday, 3/20/03
Well it seems to be a beautiful morning, but I'm sad because we're leaving Scotland today. Paris should be fun, though. I'm also a little worried because I haven't finished my studio project yet. I have simply been too tired to work on it. Hopefully the hotel in Paris will be inviting enough that I won't mind working there. I tried the first night in Scotland, but I got really hyper and started singing and dancing about the room with Carmen, so all my energy left me.
It's about 9 in the morning. Val & Carm are still asleep but I've been awake for a while, thinking about a silly medieval story I might write about a stone spiral staircase. I went to sleep before 10pm last night, so I got a good 10 hours.
I'm a little concerned. I didn't mention it before, but Tuesday evening American time (the middle of the night here) President Bush gave Saddam Hussein 48 hours to disarm and leave Iraq or they would go to war. It's been 48 hour and Saddam, of course, has no intention of backing down. The problem is that the French are totally against the war and anti-American right now. In America they've even renamed French fries "Liberty" fries. So if they even let us into the country (which they better, because we have plane reservations), we'll have to keep a low profile. Maybe Carmen can speak Spanish to the French people rather than us trying to speak English. [In retrospect, these worries were paranoid and stupid]
Yesterday we got up, and got our raisin scones and milk at the Elephant's Sufficiency. Then we hopped on a train to Stirling. It took us about 15 minutes to walk up the hill to the castle and we caught the beginning of a walking tour. I believe I liked Stirling Castle even more than Edinburgh Castle. There was a statue of Robert the Bruce out at the front (I need to figure out how exactly I'm related to him). There isn't as much as far as museums, less information, but a ton more to explore. When I went through the Palace I kept having trouble deciding which hall to turn down, but everywhere I went, I always ended up coming back the way I hadn't seen, so it was all right. I love the wood ceiling of the Great Hall. The kitchens were neat, with models of food and people working, and when there were other tourists in there it was impossible to tell how many people were in the room, it was so crowded.
Then there was the Nether Bailey, a huge terrace on a lower level than the rest of the castle complex. The grass was so green and the rocks so appealing that I had to climb them from one level to the next. Then I walked around the sidewalk at the edge of the cliff until I came to a dead end at the wall up to the rest of the castle. I just walked along that wall, on a steep grassy slope, until I came back around to the main entrance of the Nether Bailey (I had to jump down a small stone wall).
The guide at the beginning told us that Douglas Gardens were haunted by the eighth Earl of Douglas, who was killed by James II. "But what goes around comes around," he said, "for James II was killed a few years later when he stood too close to one of his own cannons."
When I was at the castle I left Carmen and Valerie to explore on my own, but we met back up and ate lunch on a ledge that sloped down to overlook a beautiful graveyard below. Next we hurried out because we thought we would have to walk the 2 miles to the Wallace Monument. We passed by the Argyll's Lodging on the way down and since we got in with our castle tickets, we walked through the house quickly. It was a neat house and would have been quite interesting had we not been in such a hurry. The nice lady in the shop there gave us directions to the Monument, but recommended we take a cab so we would have time to enjoy ourselves. The cab ended up being only £3, less than what a bus would've cost for the three of us.
The Wallace Monument is a tower (278 steps) on top of Abbey Craig, a steep hill near Stirling. Between the monument and the city is Stirling bridge, where the Scots under William Wallace beat the crap out of the English. 1297. Then in 1314, of course, was Bannockburn, where the Scots finally won independence under Robert the Bruce.
So we climbed the road and panted a lot, up to the Wallace Monument. Once inside the tower, there is a shop on the ground floor (I've really grown to love tourist shops) and a tiny spiral staircase up. I figured that 3 revolutions of the staircase take you up one floor. The first room up was a display of William Wallace's life (what they know of it), and his 5'5" sword was in a glass case there. The next room up had the busts of many Scottish heroes (including Scott, Robert the Bruce, and many people I hadn't heard of). There were stained glass windows of William Wallace, Robert the Bruce, and two anonymous Scottish Soldiers. The third room was a timeline on all four walls about the history of Stirling. Finally, above that, was the roof, with great views in all directions, and a beautiful stone rib up above with four base points.
It was up there that the three of us got into our crazy moods and decided to have nicknames. Valerie is "retard" stemming from her exclamations the night before of "seriously, why am I retarded?" Carmen is "dork" because Valerie always calls her that in fun, anyway. I am "idiot" which fits with my "idiot's day in Verona. Together, we are the three nincompoops, all for one and one for all! This morning we had our first episode of "The three nincompoops." We were at Food inc., enjoying our second delicious meal there (vegetable soup, chicken tikka sandwich, and carrot cake) and were trying to figure out if we could pay all together without anyone needing change. Valerie was the banker, telling Carmen, "If you give me this, I'll give her this and she'll give you this." Carmen was confused, holding onto her money and calling it "my precious." I said if we could figure out an efficient way to pay for this meal while sitting at a cafe table, the three nincompoops could really create their own bank.
Anyway, our plane from Glasgow was earlier than we thought, six o'clock, so we had to get our breakfast scones to save for later and had an 11 o'clock brunch at the Food inc. before leaving Edinburgh. Now we're out of Glasgow, on our way to Prestwick airport. It is 2pm and I'm finally caught up in this book for the first time in 2 weeks!
The train honks every once in a while and sounds like it's saying HaHa! with the seesaw intonations. As we left Glasgow we saw some storm clouds approaching. It's ironic that the first British storm since we've been here is right when we're leaving. Even the Scottish clouds are more interesting than American ones. They have a fierce look to them, the white and the dark look as if they're about to attack each other.
We just hit the ocean. We didn't realize this, but Prestwick airport is just as far West of Glasgow as Glasgow is from Edinburgh. I'm so excited--we're seeing the Scottish coast! It's flat here, but there are mountainous islands just off in the distance.
Glasgow, a more industrialized city than Edinburgh, and the largest city in Scotland, still has its own charm from what I've seen of it. The buildings are tall but colored. Of course I only saw the city for about 5 minutes as we walked from the Queen St. Station to the Central Station. Edinburgh, on the other hand, has an almost 18th century feel to it, with cobblestone streets, and shops lining the way. I wanted to explore every building I saw. I could live in any part of Scotland I've seen, from city to country, to town, to industrialized city. I think Stirling was my favorite, and next would be Edinburgh.
Goodbye Scotland? But hopefully not forever.The sea is a streak on my right that disappears into mist in the distance, and the land I'm above looks like the pieces made by cracks in dried mud, only greens and browns, and now blacks, are the colors. We're now over a snaky lake, a beautiful dusty blue. The cotton clouds seem to be setting on the ridges of the hills. There are small lakes all over, and now they are connecting to another bay on my left as I look sideways out the window.
Now we're on the edge of the bay and the fingers of land reaching into the ocean seem to be floating in midair, so close is the color of the water to the dusk. I can't see the horizon between water and sky; a thin veil of mist coats my view. The land even is dimming.
I forgot to mention earlier that at the Wallace Monument shop at the bottom of the hill, I bought a book of Scottish fairy tales for only £2.50. I'm reading it now. They are, so far, nice stories but they lack purpose. I may have to retell some of the, or create visualizations for my children.
I love it how the lights below
make the land glow with the fire
of volcanic rocks.
There's a sea of clouds below me, bundled into rolls, but every so often they thin a little and I can catch a glimpse of golden lights of mortal life. They seem to say, here sits a happy home, where with open arms we welcome our own, wherever they chance to be.
What makes the tire tracks in the clouds? The finest jewelry of the earth is civilization from the sky.
I seem to be looking at a layered earth. The surface is the last blue light of the sunset, then the thick gray clouds to dig through, then boring deep down I see the gold veins intertwining in the deep black dirt. The city below seems a world apart from my sunset, a light blue above, dark gray cloud, and line of red underneath. The world below is already black. One is night and one is day. Though now in the distance the thin red line seems to draw the gold to it. Is a volcano erupting? Are those just pools of lava on charred ground? Is this the land of Mordor? I want a painting of this sight.
The volcano settles, but the pools still glow. The pools end abruptly with the coast and there is nothingness. The tip of the plane wing breaks the fading red streak.
We're approaching France and all the light is gone. Just the charred earth with small swipes of gold here and there. Gone is the familiar; here is the unknown, but it can be more exciting, if not as settling.
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