Scotland, Hazel and Wee Katie

I was sad to part ways with the
Silver Bullet.  She felt it, too.
It rained for the first time as I was leaving
Ireland.  Regular weather pattern or
tears of sadness?  I have my theory.

It was Tuesday and I was off to Scotland!!  I was excited for lots of reasons but mainly because I was seeing my dear friend, Hazel, for the first time in 8 years.  I am lucky to have friends in my life that regardless of how much time passes it makes no difference whatsoever in our relationship.  When we meet up it feels only that one of us has excused ourselves to visit the loo (or the "toilet") and then we pick right up on our conversation - a lifelong conversation.  I am a blessed woman. 

I met Hazel first in New Hampshire when we were both working at Dartmouth college.  We didn't meet at work, however, we met at Irish dance class.  As soon as I saw her I knew she was to be my friend.  I don't even remember having a "getting to know you" period with her.  It was like one day I didn't know her and the next day she was a gift in my life.  We both liked to chat and would meet every Monday night at the Borders in West Lebanon, NH for "a cuppa and a wee blether".  But, truth be told, there was nothing "wee" about any of our "blethering".  She's a lovely person and wish we lived a little closer - the same country would be nice (and I am certainly willing to move to Scotland to make that happen!)

It was Tuesday morning and my flight into Glasgow was hair-raising (very bumpy and cloudy).  Then when we landed we waited on the plane for about 30 minutes because apparently we weren't on the radar as we were flying in.  Doesn't that seem a bit dangerous to you?  Anyway, I was there, I was excited but a little worried I wouldn't recognize Hazel - it had been a while - but I needn't have worried because I saw her and  her beautiful smile and all worries and stresses fell away.  As exhilerating as driving Ireland was and as empowering as forging my way through an unknown country felt, an innate stress accompanied me.  A good, fun stress that I didn't even know I was carrying until I saw Hazel.  She embraced me, she knew what I meant when I asked for the restroom and she knew right where they were, she knew how to drive without killing people so all I had to do was talk, laugh and rubberneck.   All I needed to do was follow her and it felt grand.  Sometimes it is good to follow and take a break from forging.

Wee Katie and Hazel's Mum.

I had been to Scotland before - about 13 years ago.  On that trip we stayed fairly rural not hitting Glasgow or Edinburgh and on this trip I was going to enjoy both with a Scottish native.  I felt so lucky.  It was a beautiful day, Hazel had a new car (Wee Katie) and we were headed to the Glasgow Art Museum and Glasgow University (Hazel's alma mater)! 

Thoughts on Glasgow:

 *I didn't take enough pictures!  Hazel and I were chatting so much my camera was neglected.  Apparently, I am not a multi-tasker!

This is the Kelingrove Art Museum and it is such a grand, stately building.  So many architectural details (see below).
When Hazel and I walked in the organ just immediately started up.  Someone was playing in the balcony.  I pretended they were playing for me.  At the Chapel at Glasgow Univ. the organ started up when we were in there too.  Narcissism runs deep - I pretended again.  It seemed everywhere I went music started playing - who wouldn't pretend?

Funny story: 

There is a little phenomenon that I experience no matter where I travel or live:  Someone will always stop me and ask if I went to school with them,  work with them, or I look so familiar how do we know each other?  I have lived in all four corners of the US and it happens everywhere, all the time.  It happened just yesterday, in fact, at the Home Depot.  It happens so often that I wonder how I don't see clones of myself walking around.  (Btw, I do have a doppelganger.  She played a prostitute on Miami Vice - I saw her when I was a teenager.)  Anyway, Hazel and I entered the Kelingrove Museum and went to the information desk to ask questions and the lady manning the booth looked at me and asked if I was an actress - because I looked soooo familiar.  I like how she went straight to the actress versus Americans always go straight to high school.  It was really sweet and what I wanted to say was: yes, I was. Could I get a VIP tour and a free lunch?

This is Glasgow University founded in 1451 AD.  These are the types of buildings I expected to see at Trinity College.  Can't you just feel the weight of knowledge?  I love it!  I also love the regional red stone.  It is fun to contrast that with the Edinburgh grey stone - next post!

Details, details.  It's all in the details!

A Scottish Magnolia.  I wanted
 a closer shot but it was down a
ravine.

After visiting the University, we got some tea.  Hazel has about a two hour limit before she needs another cup of tea.  (I want to make a drug addict reference here - something about a crack addict needing a hit.  But I won't! <grin>)  We went to this really cute tea shop that had enormous, yummy scones. I got to see parts of her life I had only heard her talk about and I loved every minute.

After that we walked some beautiful botanical gardens and refreshed ourselves at an old church cum pub.  It was the craziest, most blasphemous place I had ever been - but beautifully done.  We used this time to catch up and chat a lot!  It was great - perfect even.

As the evening went on we decided to drive to her hometown of Motherwell and have dinner.  At dinner I went for it and ordered the haggis.  It was so good.  As you can see from the picture it was a hardboiled egg surrounded by haggis and then deep fried.  Very tasty!



This is Mrs. Scot.  I didn't take this
picture - Hazel did.  Again, my mouth
was so busy I couldn't remember
to pick up the camera.  But
here they are in Ayr where the
Scottish Kennedys are from.



The Scots are lovely hosts.  Here I am talking Hazel Scot and her Mum specifically and not the country as a whole - although I am sure it would apply as well.  I had met Mrs. Scot once before in NH when she had come to visit and was delighted to see her smiling face again and receive her warm embrace.  She is such a delightful, vivacious woman. (I like the fact that they are super "hugg-y" folk.  North Carolina is like that and it felt good.  Of course, NC was mainly settled by Scots, so there you go.)   One of the first things she said to me was, "Ohh, what a lovely American accent!"  I had an accent???

Why? Are there crocodiles in there?

Monday morning I awoke and with a very heavy heart realizing it was my last day in Ireland.  The days went fast but the moments dripped like honey - sweet honey.  I had so many moments of being entirely present that I felt  the trip was well absorbed by my soul but, being greedy,  I wanted more.  On this day my Dad was leaving to return to the USA and I was driving him to the airport.  It was a lovely drive, beautiful with such great company.  Spending time with dad - just he and I - has been rare in recent years as I have lived in Seattle.  I treasured every moment. 

Dad and I (Shannon) left the Shannon Hotel, turned left on Shannon Rd. and followed the Shannon River to the town of Shannon so I could drop dad off at the Shannon Airport and in the boot was the book by Frank Delaney, Shannon.  Sorry, that was sickeningly gratuitous - apologies!  I just wanted to see how many times I could get my name in one sentence; 7 it is!

After dropping Dad off with a teary good bye, my goal of the day was to gift my letter to the River; to soak my feet and possibly take a swim.  No more messing around with meek Hello's and shy waves.  This river and I were going to get to know one another.  At least that was MY plan.

I am brilliant at making assumptions and this was mine regarding the Shannon specifically and Ireland in general:  Like in America, there would be so many pull-offs and parks that I would have a plethora of choices.  I didn't realize that the Irish aren't as into frolicing in the water as Americans.  It took me all day to figure this out.  A conversation such as this one below took place about 5 times that day.

Me:  Hello, could you tell me how I might get to the Shannon River?

Kind Irish Folk:  Well, sure, it's right over that way...

Me: Yes, but where can I get access to it?

Kind Irish Folk: Why would you be wantin' to go there?  It's dangerous...you need to be careful.

Me: Why, are there crocodiles in it?  (I wasn't being sarcastic.  It was a serious question.  I kept getting the dangerous theme over and over and couldn't figure out what about this wide, meandering river could strike such fear. As I knew there were no snakes, thanks to St. Patrick <grin>, I couldn't think of anything else that should keep people out.)
Kind Irish Folk:  Well, no but it's dangerous all the same.



Lovely Hazel!

 I couldn't get any more of an answer than this and no one knew any place to actually get to the river.  Near the end of the day I was perplexed and frustrated and no closer to my goal.  At this point my friend, Hazel, called from Scotland.  I was flying up to see her the next day and we were finalizing our plans.  I told her I was trying to get to the Shannon River.  And do  you know the first thing out of her mouth was, "Och, be careful, Shannon!"  Thankfully, I knew her quite well and felt comfortable voicing my angst.  "Hazel, WHY are people telling me to be careful?  Why?  It is a river, for heaven's sakes!   I just want to be at the river! Why is it so unbelievably hard to get to?"  Happily, she had lived in America and could see things from my side.  She finally clued me in.  She said, "we just don't swim in rivers and lakes here as much like you do in America.  Usually the weather is so bad anyway so it just isn't done." 

Once she said this it all made sense, the clouds cleared, the world was set to rights and I laughed.  I laughed because it was a funny story about a cultural difference that took me forever to figure out; I laughed because try as hard as you might sometimes things just don't work out to one's expectations; I laughed because I was going to see Hazel tomorrow; I laughed because I hadn't eaten since breakfast and was close to fainting - hysteria was obviously setting in.  I could let my goal of the day go - I gave it my best shot.  It wasn't our day to be together - the river and I.  I had one more shot for a few hours at the end of the week before I flew to America.  I wasn't giving up yet.

 It was getting late so I decided to make a quick visit to Bunraddy Castle.  It was a real, gosh-darned castle from the 14th century with period furnishings.  So awesome!  My historian's soul rejoiced.

Couldn't completely capture the height of the castle.  It was such a great spot to visit.

This is where the drawbridge would have been!  I had to rush as they were about to close!  I practically ran the whole way from the bottom to the top of the castle. I made myself sick on the twisty, narrow turrent steps.

This is one room inside the castle.  There are six stories and all are set up the same.  There is a great room and then
at the four corners in the turrets are the bedrooms, chapels, kitchens, etc. with stairs.  These tapestries were
gorgeous and huge!  I tried to capture the enormous scale but it just doesn't come across.

 

Sorry, it's a little dark, but I loved the face on the coat of arms.



This is a portion of the rock wall around the castle.  I walked back and forth many times rubbing my hand along
the moss.  I wish the picture did the softness of the moss justice.  I was in tactile heaven.

 

There was a  historic village outside of the castle and this was
one of the cottages - The Shannon Farmhouse.
They even had a peat fire going to welcome me home.



This is where I ate my dinner before heading back to my hotel for the evening.
Delicious!  Recommended by my friend, Jenn.  Thanks, Jenn!





We Americans can't seem to help but take pictures of telephone booths.  Isn't this one charming?  I don't imagine that our telephone booths capture their interest quite as much.



This is the view from the top of the castle.  There in the background is the "dangerous" Shannon - taunting me.

That night I was alone for the first time in my life without a soul knowing where I was.  I couldn't call anyone as my phone was out of power and I had left a string of electronic cords across Ireland which included my phone converter. My seclusion was complete.  It was a very vulnerable feeling but it also felt right - my sense of solitude deepened.  I had found this quote on a bookmark by Carl Sandberg before I left on my trip:
"It is very necessary now and then for a man to go away by himself and experience loneliness;  to sit on a rock in the forest and to ask himself, 'Who am I, and where have I been, and where am I going?'"
That was my goal and that was what I felt - utterly, completely and peacefully.