A New Kind of Mardi Gras

Short Tuesday here, as it is called, is National Pancake Day. As explained to me by one of my flat mates, on the Tuesday before Ash Wednesday is Pancake Tuesday, where almost everyone in Scotland eats pancakes. Because I had class on Tuesday evening and would not make it back to my flat until around 10:30 at night, we decided to celebrate on Monday.

I thought it would no big deal to go out and find “American Pancake Mix”. I was wrong. Scottish pancakes are more like crepes, thinner and not nearly as fluffy. Having seen “Betty Crocker Shake to Make American Pancake Mix” in Asda (the Scottish Walmart) a few days prior, I thought that I would fine getting it on Monday. This is where I was very wrong. They were sold out everywhere. It turns out the Scottish wanted American pancake mix too. They also didn’t have Bisquick, and I couldn’t be bothered to make them from scratch. Finally seven grocery stores later, I had pancake mix in hand, and was finally heading back to my flat.

Dan, Christina, and Laura met me there, and then we proceeded to make pancakes. With no mixer, whisk, or even a large bowl in sight, one of my flat mates suggested I used the blender. Although it was way overfilled, and a little scary, it turned out well, and we soon had batter and could make our pancakes.

Sometimes I miss all of my nice cooking things back home! After a little struggling with getting the hob (stove) to the right temperature, Christina and I were cooking pancakes and eggs. And soon we had dinner.

Although not the beads and crazy adventures on Bourbon Street during Mardi Gras, or the masks of Venice during Carnivale, National Pancake Day is a very satisfying Scottish Fat Tuesday tradition.

Scottish Weather and Why it Will Never Get the Best of Me

This Sunday, the attractions of choice were Huntly Castle, and the Dean’s of Huntly Shortbread Visitor’s Center. Luckily, this morning we were able to sleep in as the train didn’t leave until 10 am, much better than the 6:35 bus that we caught the day before. And, even better, we didn’t have to run to catch the train, although I do find that exhilarating.

As soon as we arrived at Huntly, we realized one mistake we had made: do not visit small towns on a Sunday, everything is closed. And I mean everything. From the bakeries to the book shops. Huntly seemed like an abandoned town as we made our way to Huntly Castle. Although it was sort of a gray day, it had a very serene effect. We passed many pretty sights on our way.

As we walked the mile or so to the castle, we passed a WWI memorial. It seems like every town in Scotland has a memorial to honor those who have died in either WWI or WWII. Christina, Laura and I always remark when we come across a memorial how different that is to the United States. We may have some national memorials, and maybe even a few in a couple of states, but nowhere near the number that are present in Scotland.

All of the memorials also have the same pink silk flower wreaths. They are a pop of bright color against the stone that they are laid upon. We continued on the tree lined path, past a school and a playground. Although it was a road, there was not a car in sight, so we strolled down the middle of the lane, trying to avoid puddles as we went.

The next thing we knew we were at the castle. Without any warning, we rounded a corner, and there it was: Huntly Castle. It was a surprising sight to see in the backyard of a school, especially when you compared it to our dramatic walk to Dunnottar. But it was beautiful, even in the gray day.

And here is the reason why Scottish weather will never get the best of me: the worse the weather, the fewer the tourists. There was no one else at the castle for at least the first hour and a half we were there. As we were leaving, another family showed up, but for the majority of our visit, it was like we had a private castle. We could run about, we could take as many pictures as we wanted, and we could separate and then essentially play marco polo to meet up again. We weren’t in anyone’s way, and no one was is our way. Christina and I are in one of the windows in the picture below.

About a half an hour after we arrived at the castle, it started to pour. We took refuge in one of the few buildings that still had a roof, and at our lunch. The sign informed us that this was the brewery. This was one of the moments that we were grateful to be the only ones brave enough to conquer the rain to visit. If there had been anyone else at the castle, we would not have been able to take over the brewery for the 20 minutes we waited for the rain to stop.

The construction of Huntly Castle began in the 12^th century. The castle was then burnt to the ground in the 15^th century when it was sacked by the Earl of Moray. A new castle was built in its place, to which additions were added in the 16^th and the 17^th centuries. The castle was then abandoned by the late 17^th century, the Gordons of Huntly had abandoned the castle. The castle then lay in decay, scavengers taking pieces for building material, until the 19^th century.

Although it has been built and rebuilt, pieces of each castle remain, from the 12^th century onward. The remodeling of the 16^th century lead to the largest frontispiece in any Scottish castle. This is the carved stone above the door containing the Clan of Gordon coat of arms.

After we had our fill of Huntly Castle, we made our way across the town to the shortbread visitor’s center. You could smell the shortbread before we could see the factory. One of my flatmates is currently working in Huntly, and says that when she goes in every morning, the whole town smells like shortbread.

We went inside their café to warm up for a few minute with a cup of tea and the delicious shortbread. Relaxing for a few minutes, recovering from the damp cold outside, we marveled at the amount of shortbread in the gift shop.

If Dean’s was in Aberdeen, I think I might have gone every day. As it is, I still consider going back for the shortbread. There was also a viewing area, where you could see the factory floor. Since it was the weekend, there was no shortbread being produced, but it was still interesting to see how small of a factory produced shortbread exported as far as the United States and Australia.

After we ate enough shortbread to feel sick, we walked back to the train station. But we had looked at the wrong schedule, and there was another hour and a half until the train came. Since nothing was open in the town, we decided to take a walk through the town. It was a lovely, quaint town. On a Sunday, though, it afforded us very little to do.

Even though the sheep and the farms never surprise me as we travel through Scotland, it is the wind turbines on every hill. I knew Scotland was interested in renewable energy, but I didn’t realize how many turbines they already had working. The Scottish government actually has a goal of generating 31% of Scotland’s power using renewable energy by the year 2011, and most of this will come from wind turbines.

All in all, a lovely weekend, although you could probably see the sights in Huntly in around 4 hours instead of the 6 or so that we spent there. Small towns seem to all but shut down on Sunday, something that we might want to be a little more careful about in the future!

Crossing the Country and Back

On Saturday, Laura, Christina and I went to Glasgow, which is on the opposite of Scotland from Aberdeen. This equates to about three hours on a bus, less time than it takes me to get to Olin from my home. We got up at an ungodly hour, and were at the bus station by 6:20 in the morning, before the city really began to wake up. I soon fell asleep, and only awoke when we arrived in Perth and more people got on the bus. I ended up sitting next to the very nice woman, who was off on a day trip to Glasgow with a group of her friends to go see “Strictly Come Dancing”, the UK equivalent of America’s “Dancing with Stars”. She was fascinated with the fact that I was an American, and she kept exclaiming, “Oh, I do just love America.” It was amusing overall, and I think Christina really enjoyed our conversation; I could see her chuckling in the seat in front of me. During this conversation, I also learned about the great shops in Glasgow, and that was an understatement.

From Perth to Glasgow, I watched the countryside pass us by. I was amazed at how many sheep I saw, how many of the hills were still covered in snow, and how green everything was despite the snow. As soon as you step outside the bounds of a city, it seems to me that most of the country is actually working farms.

Once we arrived at Glasgow, we scampered off the bus, eager to stretch our legs and started off on the first walk of the day. Although a little grey, it was fairly warm, and the sun was trying to peak out from behind the clouds. We walked down the street from the bus station to George Square, in central Glasgow. We must have arrived before the Glaswegians roused and began their day, because there was not a soul in sight, except for the occasional tourist snapping photos, as we were.

There were various statues, and a memorial to the men of Glasgow that were lost during the two world wars. This memorial contained beautiful carvings of feathers, and of lions, as the one seen with me above. There are lion statues everywhere throughout Scotland. There are many in Aberdeen, and we saw many in Glasgow. The lion appears in two quadrants of the Royal Arms of Scotland, which is Scotland’s coat of arms. Until the early 1700s, when the Acts of Union of 1707 created the Kingdom of Great Britain, this coat of arms represented the Kingdom of Scotland, and the reigning monarchs. Today, the lion also appears on the Royal Standard of Scotland, the flag is also known as the “Lion Rampant”. A lion represents bravery, strength, and royalty. You can see why the lion is so important to the Scottish people.

Also in this area, was the City Chambers, which looked out onto George Square. We were hoping to be able to take a tour, but they are only offered during the week, so we had to be satisfied by looking at it. The inside is said to be even grander than the exterior.

It was built at the height of Glasgow’s wealth during the 1880s, and took 6 years to complete. Today the building houses the Glasgow City Council. According to tripadvisor.com, this was the can’t miss attraction of Glasgow. Maybe one of these days I will go back on a weekday to get a tour.

After walking around here for a little while, we began to make our way to the Glasgow Cathedral and Necropolis. We were told that at the top of the necropolis had wonderful views of the city. So we decided that that would be our first stop, and then we would go and look in the cathedral. As we walked up to the summit of the necropolis, I was struck by how unkempt it looked. There were gravestones toppled over left and right, and everything just looked worn and broken, overgrown.

I can’t say that I wasn’t disappointed when I reached the top of the necropolis. Glasgow is a very industrial city, not the gray granite that I am used to seeing every day, or the green countryside I had seen during our other trips. But it did provide a great view of the cathedral.

Despite the construction that was going on the outside of the Cathedral, it was beautiful, a great example of gothic architecture. Although no longer actually a cathedral (it has not been the seat of an arch-bishop since the 1600s), it keeps its name due to historic significance; it is the only remaining medieval cathedral on the Scottish mainland to have survived the reformation relatively untouched. Reportedly built on the site of the church built by the patron saint of Glasgow, St. Mungo, there are pieces of the cathedral are from as early as the 12^th century. I am always surprised how old the buildings here actually are.

After we walked through the cathedral, marveling at the stained glass windows, we decided to go for lunch at The Horse Shoe Bar. Although we didn’t go into the bar itself, we could hear the yelling at a match of the Rugby Six Nations. We decided to eat upstairs in the restaurant. The Horse Shoe Bar is the physically longest bar in the United Kingdom.

Before lunch, we walked down the main shopping street. We saw a group of street performers. Not just any street performers, but street performers in kilts playing bagpipes. It was a very fun treat. They took traditional instruments and played not so traditional songs, like the Star Wards theme, and “When the Saints Go Marching In”.

After we finished lunch, we stopped to watch the performers for a few minutes. We then headed to our real adventure of the day: The Barras. This is the supposedly famous flea market in Glasgow. I was not a huge fan. It seemed very run down, and had very little to interest me. I should have known that flea markets would be the same abroad as they were at home. I was just hoping for more knockoffs, and less random things that various vendors had collected. Or maybe I was hoping to see some Scottish goods to be had, and instead I was met with the same things that I could have found in a junk store anyway. I would have been disappointed, though, if we hadn’t at least tried to go to it.

It was during our walk to and from The Barras, though, that I discovered one of the best things that the city of Glasgow has ever done for tourists. There are maps everywhere. And although you stick out by going to consult one, we prevented ourselves from getting lost a couple of times by being able to look at these handy signs.

Completing our quick tour of the Barras, we then continued on to the Glasgow Green, the Clyde, and the People’s Palace. Everything was very green, although once we got to the Clyde, I was reminded that it was an industrial city that was just beginning to clean everything up. The past few years, the Clyde has been majorly cleaned, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that you can tell that there is still a long way to go.

Here is where I met the goose. I don’t know why I didn’t expect to see any geese (maybe because I am just used to Canadian Geese). I know geese have a reputation of being nasty, but I wanted to get up close with one of them because it was staring at me. As soon as I took a few steps closer, it hissed at me. Worse that I have ever heard my cat hiss. I quickly backed away, and that was the end of it.

After looking at the Clyde, and exploring the Glasgow Green, we continued on to the Winter Gardens and the People’s Palace.

The Winter Gardens was like a tropical paradise. We warmed up and wandered through the tropical plants. It was the kind of place you go to forget that you are in Scotland, where it is often cold, and the sun isn’t always shining.

We then went through the People’s Palace, which is a hands-on museum focusing on the social history of Glasgow. There were exhibits about life during the wars, air raid shelters, prisons, executions, women’s rights, and even a replica dairy store from years past. It was an interesting way to learn about the city we had quickly walked through.

Outside of the People’s Palace, there is the Doulton Fountain (yes, there is a relationship with the Royal Doulton china), the largest terracotta fountain of its kind. It was built in the 1880s, and meant to commemorate imperial Britain, with figurines representing Australia, Canada, India and South Africa. The size and the detail in the figurines was quite impressive. I think at this point it is also important to note that there is blue sky and fluffy clouds in the picture below, and although you can’t really tell, I do have my sunglasses perched on top of my head because I was wearing them moments earlier.

After we had had our fill of history, we made our way back to the shops. We had an hour or so to kill before our bus. It was starting to get cold, so we popped into Princes Mall. And while Laura and Christina marveled at how pretty it was, I marveled at the shops. I felt at home, and I was excited to get shopping. I was good though, and managed only to come away with a cute mug from Cath Kidson.

Shopping helped us pass the rest of the time, and then we made our way back to the bus. Exhausted, but having had a very busy and successful trip, we were satisfied. We essentially crossed to the other side of the country for the day, and now were headed back home to sleep, because we had more adventures planned for the next day.

Haggis, and Neeps, and Tatties! Oh my!

On Wednesday, there was a “Traditional Scottish Meal” for the international students studying at Robert Gordon University. Most of these students will remain in the UK for a much longer period than me, as they are actually attempting degrees instead of just studying abroad for a semester. They have plenty of time to immerse themselves in Scottish culture, while I am jumping as fast as I can to see and do everything humanly possible.

So, in an attempt to be fearless, the four other Olin exchange students and I sat down to attempt our Scottish meal of haggis, neeps and tatties. And although some of my fellow exchange students were hungry enough to gobble their meals (and part of my meal) without a second glance, I had a harder time confronting the food before me.

I was first put off by the fact that it looked like scoops of ice cream, but was most definitely not. I sat staring at the food for a few moments before mashing it up. The neeps, which are turnips that looked deceptively like cheesy potatoes, were slightly disappointing. Tatties, the white scoop, are like mashed potatoes, not that abnormal. And then, we proceeded on to the haggis. The Scottish mystery meat either loved or hated. And from the smell of it, I figured I would be in the group that hated it.

But being hungry, I decided to give it a go. The texture is just not my cup of tea. After two bites, the haggis sort of tasted like stuffing. After three bites, the peppery after taste was kicking. And after four bites, I was starting to wonder what I actually eating. As if in answer to my thought, the host of the lunch welcomed us, and explained what we were eating. It was neeps (turnips), tatties (potatoes), and vegetarian haggis. I has completely psyched myself out about vegetables. There were mystery meat parts in the food that I was eating. It was all vegetables and spices. I know most of my suffering was psychological, and not actually from the taste. But now, I still haven’t had real haggis, one of the things that I must do before I leave Scotland. Maybe deep fried haggis is the way to go. We’ll see if my mind can deal with another scoop of mystery meat!

Falling in Love

I have fallen in love with Scotland.

I guess the best place to start is the beginning. It took me over a week to figure out how to fit my life into two fifty-pound suitcases. It takes one, maybe two cars full of stuff to move into Olin, but yet, going across an ocean only takes two suitcases. During the process of packing, Marshmallow wanted more than to come with me, and kept sleeping with my suitcases. I had to break it to him that he had to stay at home when I left, but he wouldn’t have liked being a stowaway anyway.

After a night of traveling, and getting searched over and over again, I finally made it to Aberdeen, where I was met by a very nice RGU student. The Aberdeen airport is maybe the smallest airport I have ever seen, and only about a 10 minute cab ride away from Rosemount Hall, where I am living for the semester. Very different from my picture of an American dorm, but full of a charm all its own. Although not necessarily pretty, its comfortable and functional. I am living with four Irish girls, and one from Scotland.

The street that I live on.

My room from the doorway.

The kitchen from the couch.

In Aberdeen, they say if you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes. Nothing could be more true. One moment it is snowing, and the next, the sun is shining. When I arrived in Aberdeen, it was snowing, much like it was back home. The difference is that everyone expects the snow in New England. In Aberdeen, they expect snow, but don’t know how to deal with it. There was no salt or sand to be found, and no one shoveled anything. So eventually the whole city became a slip and slide! Particularly treacherous was the walk down Bakers Street. A solid sheet of ice, I learned to just go with the flow and sort of slide down it. Oddly enough, after all of the ice disappeared, a bin of sand appeared on this same street. With this warning sign attached.

I didn’t know that I needed to be worried about sharp objects in the sand. But at least there is sand now. Maybe next time it snows I will end up a little less bruised.

On my second day in Aberdeen, I took a walk to the beach with the other students from Olin. One thing about Aberdeen, is that you walk everywhere. I walk all the time, on average 4 miles a day. It is wonderful. I am outside more often in a week than I am in an entire month back at Olin. It wasn’t supposed to snow, but of course as soon as we walked the mile and a half to the beach, it began to snow, and quickly. Take a look at our faces.

A few minutes later, it had stopped. Although I could not smell the salt air, there was still a brilliant quality to being at the beach. There was water and waves. Located on the North Sea, Aberdeen is the largest sea port in north-eastern Scotland. I have not yet seen the port, but there is a fish market that is open every morning until 8a.m. that sells the catch of the day. I may have to attempt to eat fish if I can get some right out of the sea! Although everyone else was a little trepid about approaching the water, I had no fear.

Sticking my hand into the water, I realized that it wasn’t nearly as frigid as I thought it would be. Also, on this day, I took a trip to my first pub in Scotland. Recommended by our guidebook, it was what you would think of as a typical pub, wood paneled and cozy. Of course, I forgot that its claim to fame was its “posh toilets”, so we will have to make another trip back. That won’t be a problem.

Last Monday, I attended the Aberdeen Business School Induction, where I learned the practicalities of being a student, although I was still not registered for classes. That took until the third day of classes to sort out. It was informative and somewhat useful, but the best part is that they arranged for us (the business school exchange students) to visit Crathes Castle on Wednesday.

Built in the 16th century, Crathes Castle was the home to the Burnett family for over 400 years. It is a charming little castle that never saw battle, although it did see fire. Some of the original paintings are still on some of the ceilings and are incredible. What I found remarkable were how many features the castle had to prevent sword fighting. The doorways were all below the height of an average-height man so that if he were chasing someone either he would hit his head, or be slowed down because he had to duck. Every eleventh step was a different height so that he would trip. And the staircases were spiraled to the right so that it would be more difficult to fight. And these things did deter fighting, but they also meant that I had some difficulties, and almost hit my head a few times and tripped up the stairs on more than one occasion.

The night of the castle trip, I also attended class. Staying in class until 9 p.m. and then taking a bus back to city center (about 3 miles away, and where I live) was harder than I imagined. As soon as I got home, I was dressed and out the door for my first night out. Wednesday night was student night, and something that I could not miss according to my flat mates. And I was glad that I listened to them. I danced the night away, and ended up back at my flat at 3:00 in the morning. Luckily I could sleep in the next day, but it was an adventure indeed! That night was when my flat mates also discovered the differences in our vocabularies when they asked me, “Did you have a good crack last night” the next morning. It turns out that they do not mean “crack” as in the drug, but “caic” as in a good time. And here I thought that maybe the reason I had so much fun was that I ingested something illegal. Spurred by this event, we started this dictionary, now just one sheet of paper on the fridge, but soon it will cover the entire kitchen, I fear.


On Saturday, we were going to go to Stonehaven to visit Dunnottar Castle, but it was raining and all together miserable, so we decided to wait until the next day to go. Instead, I wandered to the Central Library and got some reading done for class, and then went out dancing with my flat mates that night.

Although waking up on Sunday was difficult, this was the day that I fell in love with Scotland. We met at 9:15 (although it was really more like 9:25) and walked to the train station, getting a little lost on our way. Once we managed to get ourselves to the train station, we had to buy tickets, and only had a few minutes until the train left. While we considered waiting for the next train in an hour and a half, I was determined to catch this train. As soon as we got our tickets, I was off running through the station to get to the right track. As we boarded the train, it departed from the station. Dan, Christina and Laura (three other students from Olin studying at RGU with me) laughed and said that they never would have run through a station. I guess it was my father’s influence.

In approximately 20 minutes, we arrived in the small town of Stonehaven, and began the three mile journey to Dunnottar Castle, one of the most stunning sights I have ever seen. We managed the short trip to the harbor, and then realized the trek we had ahead of us was going to be no small task. This beach smelled like the ocean I know, the salt hanging in the air.

We started down the path, had to pass several road closed signs, and were finally walking on the cliff when we got our first view of the castle ruins. Most of the remaining structures are from the 15th and 16th centuries, although the site has been inhabited since the year 900 when the Picts settled on the cliff. All along the walk, the views were breathtaking and phenomenal. We thought we may never make it to the castle because every few moments we stopped in order to take the sights in.

Along the way, we stopped at a memorial built to honor the men from Stonehaven that were killed in WWI. An interesting little piece of history, it was designed to look unfinished, as a reminder of how short and ever changing life is. We stopped to take a break here, and marvel at the centuries of history that we were taking in.

After a short break, we continued on to the castle.

Pictures will never be able to do this castle justice, and even though it was a grey, the view was unlike anything I have ever seen. I also found it incredible that even though there was snow on the ground a week ago, everything was so green .

We entered through the gatehouse, becoming season members of Dunnottar Castle, and beginning our journey through the ruins. The castle was abandoned in 1715, before the Declaration of Independence was even considered. Home to the Earls Marischals, it was a heavily embattled castle, imposing in all rights. At one point, it was the home to the Honors of Scotland, the Scottish Crown Jewels. The later history turns darker, as in 1685 125 men and 42 women were held in a small dungeon called the “Whigs Vault” during the rebellion of Argyll and Monmouth, during which there was an attempt to overthrow King James II.

After eating a picnic lunch, we decided it was time to make our way back to the train station and head home. We had grand plans for a walk through the shell house, but that is an adventure that will have to wait for another time, as we were all tired and sore from our trip. We took the easy walk back along the road, easily half the distance of the first walk, but without the view.

I am impressed if you have made it this far, and I promise not to write one of my books next time. Up next weekend: Glasgow and Huntly Castle.