Travel · Wenches
A Journal for a Company of Travelers
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We'd been in the area a day or so when we realized something we haven't been hearing - American accents. Further, people have looked a bit surprised to hear us speak, and more than one has gone on to ask where we're from. Our waitress the first night here seemed full-on delighted, and very sweetly told us about her trip to America, where L.A. is full of frightening drivers and portion-sizes are out of control, before offering us welcomed advice on how we might spend our first day. We've heard Scots and a variety of voices from The South, but no one else from North America. Today in York, we finally met another American ( from Tennessee - born and raised no more than three hours from my hometown, and in York for university), and we asked about the apparent lack of tourists from the U.S. She said that while you may run across a few in York, most seem to stick to London and never make it to The North. We agreed that they're missing out. Yorkshire in particular has some of the prettiest country I've ever seen. When we got back to Kirkby for dinner, our waiter tilted his head when we answered his hello, and asked if we might be American. York was delightful, and more about it when I've had a chance to download my photos. Posted via LiveJournal app for iPad.
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between Cumbria and Yorkshire | |
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It was a long day spent in the Dales, but a lovely one. First stop was at Fairfield Mill , where Michele got to try weaving for the first time, and I got to chat with some local fiber artists. Then we trekked on to a cheese mecca - the Wensleydale Creamery, where we tried 87 different kinds of cheese. Michele had a chat with a creek, we stopped in Giggleswick (the land of her people), and then we ended the day with a walk around Kirkby Lonsdale, the village where we're staying. Tomorrow, we're off to York. photos Posted via LiveJournal app for iPad.
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Kirkby Lonsdale | |
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I've seen a great deal of Scotland so far - from Orkney to Dumfries, from Edinburgh to Harris in the Outer Hebrides, and many places in between. Glen Lyon may well be the most beautiful. It's a cul-de-sac of a valley - you can't drive through it and out the other side - which has kept it quiet and undeveloped. We stopped at the tea room and post office (the only place in the glen that wasn't a house or a barn or a Scottish Water building), and asked the postmistress/proprietress what it was like to live there. "Fantastic," she said. "Everyday I wake up to see all of this as my front yard". The photos don't begin to do it justice. photos Posted via LiveJournal app for iPad. |
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There was this guy named Dante, who was the poet rock star of his day. He lived most of his life in Florence until the city kicked him out, and so he ended up living the last twenty years of his life in Ravenna, at which point Florence wanted his body back, and Ravenna said “no way”. So as to try not to look like such complete jerks, Florence paid for the oil to light the lamp at his tomb, and now a lot of Italians make their way to Ravenna to visit every year. The End. Except not, obviously. On the plane over, I started reading "La Bella Lingua" by Dianne Hales, in which she talks about discovering Dante, and the influence this writer from 700 years ago had not only on literature, but on the Italian language and language in general. Before Dante, the language of the educated was Latin. When Dante began La Comedia ("Divine" was added by a later publisher"), he, according to Hale, rejected Latin as too elitist. Instead, Dante mixed together over 30 regional Italian dialects with a little Latin and a little Greek to create a new venacular. La Camedia, according to Hale, became the first major literary work in Italian, and a piece that influences Italians to this day. Hale offers a quote from University of Siena-Arezzo professor Giuseppe Patota - "Dante wrote poetry the way a rock star plays guitar". As such, it should have been no surprise that his tomb in Ravenna was knee deep in people, who by their language were clearly Italians, come to see the resting place of Their Guy. It was pretty wonderful to see. |
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I'm really tired and wasn't planning to post, but then I read this: "I loved it there, more than I thought I would." That's not exactly true. Michele did love Venice more than she thought she would, but that's because she thought she wouldn't like it at all. We were there all of five minutes when she exclaimed "Oh, I love it". I have heard that Venice is dirty, crowded, and worthy only an afternoon's visit, and now having been there, all I can think of is how sorry I feel for those who think such things, as they clearly didn't see the Venice that we did. Yes, San Marco was filled with people, even this late in the year, but the Venice even just two water bus stops away is a different place. A journalist once wrote for the New York Times that Venice is "undoubtedly the most beautiful city built by man", and, now that I"ve seen it, I believe with good reason. I need sleep and my own Internet connection before I make a longer post, but for now, buona sera, and happy birthday to Michele! |
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That the vacation was over didn't really hit me with getting on the plane, nor with coming into my apartment and having Babs fling herself at me and insist she was starving and I needed to feed her NOW (yes, I know, she was lying, Joelle and Jane and Chris). It was when I woke up very early this morning, starving, and realized no one was going to make my breakfast. So I made a pot of tea and fixed an english muffin with egg and cheese, and because I've had such a big breakfast every day for the past eleven (fried eggs, with bright yellow-orange yolks; buttery tattie scones, thick-cured bacon, haggis, and black pudding), I made myself a second sandwich. And now, work. |
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I've packed up my bag, changed into my pajamas, and I'm hoping for a good night's sleep in preparation for the long flight ahead. It's been a wonderful several days since I last posted. The Isle of Arran was fascinating - it's called "Scotland in miniature" because the landscape somewhat mimics Scotland as a whole. We stayed in Lochranza, which is on the north end of the Isle of Arran. There's really only the one road around the island and two across, but it's incredibly diverse, and we only scratched the surface in our explorations. We began with the stone circles of Machrie Moor, which are as unique as stones we saw on Orkney and Lewis. On the way to the site, it began to rain, and so we sheltered in the ruined croft near the site, which was fascinating in its own way. And, as Michele mentioned, we were lucky enough to meet up with a delightful fellow knitter named Samantha, who kindly invited us to meet another local knitter & handspinner. It made for one of those days you travel for - new discoveries and new friends. The last two nights have been spent in Edinburgh, at a B&B just southwest of the city center. Today, we drove to Roslin to see the amazing Rosslyn chapel and to spend a wonderful afternoon with Alex and Kathy, a lovely couple we met by the River Ness on or last trip to Scotland. Both the chapel and the company were just outstanding. Last night, Michele and I made a dramatic capture and release of a bee that had made its way into our room, but that's probably less noteworthy. It involved a hand towel. I've loaded a handful of the photos I've taken over the last few days, with more to follow, and now I'm heading for a last cup of tea and a wee shortbread biscuit. Goodnight to all! |
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We've arrived in (FINN-a-fort), and just had a lovely meal with the two British couples staying here at our B+B. No internet connection but for my Blackberry, although there's so much to see here that we don't expect to be in the room much anyway. We're heading to Iona tomorrow, and if we have time we'll explore this end off Mull. Also, the beach people should note there's a fabulous market. Off to bed. |
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Said the guy at the bar. This was after he corrected my pronunciation of Dewars (it's supposed to be more like "Jeuars"), but I don't think I really offended him, as he bought us a round. it occurred to me yesterday that I brought the wrong camera lens. Instead of the nifty travel zoom I purchased prior to my visit to Ireland last year, I brought along my short fixed aperture lens. In addition to not going very wide (which means it's harder to get in as much of the wide Scottish landscape), this is the lens I nicknamed "The Brick". I felt the extra weight on the enforced four hour death march beautiful short walk Michele suggested that we take to find a lot of sheep standing in fields looking suspicious some absolutely fascinating standing stones. In truth, it was one of the prettiest hikes I've ever been on (video to follow, I'm sure), with the added bonus of being strenuous enough to justify sticky toffee pudding with ice cream at dinner. After finding the stones (which were a bit wee, but in an amazing location) and goggling beautiful Loch Tay, we stopped on the way down for a picnic at a stream ford. It left us exhausted and with a bit too much sun, but it was a lovely afternoon. After cleaning up, we stopped by T he Watermill, as I wanted to find a book, then went downstairs to the coffeeshop for a hot drink and something sweet. As we were paying, the person waiting on us asked if we'd be back tomorrow, which was a little puzzling. He explained that they knew we'd been in the last three days, and if we thought we'd be returning they'd give us a loyalty card. And I'm wiped out. Photos loading. Off to bed. |
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Just woke up, showered, and dressed in clean knickers and a new shirt, thanks to Tesco (much beloved, at least by me, grocery store chain here in the UK). I can't say I'm that upset not to have my luggage, as the people at Continental really did everything they could to keep me from missing the last flight of the day, which I caught by about ten minutes to spare. if the bag made the flight last night, and they thought it would, it should be turning up in Edinburgh just about now, and the Lost Baggage folks told me they'd drive it up. I told them I'd be here in Aberfeldy, which is about two hours north. They said "no problem". I sort of wish now I'd said I was heading to the Shetland Islands, just for the response. After hours of flight delays, my late arrival, and trouble with the rental car (Michele thought they should have substituted the Mercedes for the Volkswagon with the busted tail light; we got a Peugeot instead), we were both too exhausted to do much. We checked into our lovely B&B, Michele pulled the curtains from the window, our host brought a ladder and put them back up (yes, photo to follow), we visited the bookstore and the chemists, and then we drove to Grandtully for dinner at the Tay Inn, which was as good as last year (Michele wondered who invented Sticky Toffee Pudding, because they should have been given some kind of prize for it - and Marie, we had a mushroom soup with essence of truffle oil, which was amazing). We then made it back to our B&B without running down any grouse (they hang out in the road - it's kind of weird) and essentially crashed. And now I smell good things coming from the kitchen. Off to breakfast. Kristin |
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