Sun, Sea, & Sheep: A Scottish Adventure

Oban Town Center as seen from the train station

Welcome to Oban. This is the Scottish version of Ocean City...except without the sandy beaches. And the kitschy tourist attractions. Or the sun for that matter. OK, so it is not really like Ocean City, but a trip to Oban was my highly anticipated vacation for the summer. I first visited Oban in 2005 with my father. We were on a Timberbrush tour of castles in the lower Highlands and made a stop in Oban. I remember it being very  cold, very rainy, and not much was open. Despite this initial first impression, I made a pact with myself that I would one day return. Five years later, this pact was fulfilled. Monday, August 2 was a bank holiday in Scotland and so I didn't have to go to work, which is always nice. With three entire days to my self, I decided that this would be the perfect time to go to Oban.

View of distant islands from Oban

I traveled to Oban via the CityLink bus, which left St. Andrew's bus station at the fairly obscene hour (for a Saturday anyways) of 8AM. It is not actually an unwelcome hour for me because I can't sleep past 7:30AM these days anyways. The trip from Edinburgh took close to 4 hours and I arrived a little before noon. By this time I was starving and so I set out for the first cafe that I could find. By some strange coincidence, I ended up at Spinnaker's, the same cafe that my father and I ate at in 2005. The primary reason we ate their last time was because it was one of the only places actually open in November. The food was much better than I remember -- but this could also be because I was absolutely famished.

Oban is a very popular holiday destination for the Scottish and so the streets were crowded with tourists. With the 'staycation' being the latest trend in these recessed economic times, I imagine that Oban is currently experiencing more of a surge than usual. (Considering the number of guest houses that had 'no vacancy' signs posted on their doors, I believe it.)

It was still too early to check-in to my hostel after lunch, so I set out to tackle my list of 'must do' activities that I had planned for my holiday. First on my list was visiting the Oban Distillery. For those of you who do not know, I am a big whisky fan. There is nothing finer than a dram of nicely aged whisky, gently sipped so as to taste the different notes. (Yes, I am an old man at heart.) Such is my dedication to the drink that I have been to the Scottish Whisky Heritage on three separate occasions. Still, I had yet to go to a working distillery and so a trip to Oban's was a must. One of the oldest distilleries in Scotland, it was started in 1794 and has been in (mostly) continuous operation ever since. It is located in the very city center and so remains a source of pride for Oban. Despite this, it is a very small distillery, having only two stills, and produces only around 1 million bottles of single-malt a year. The tour was quite interesting and I feel even more knowledgeable about the whisky production process than before. Well worth the visit.

Dunollie Castle

Afterward, I tried to climb the hill to McCaig's Folly. McCaig was a businessman from Oban who visited Rome in the late 1800s and was so inspired about by the architecture that he hoped to build a version of the Colosseum in Oban, which was to house an art gallery. Unfortunately for McCaig, he died before it was completed and so the shell has remained on the hill as a testament to Oban's semi-eccentric past. My visit to the structure was thwarted by the fact that a wedding party was leaving the church at the base of the stairs that provide access to McCaig's Folly. Not wishing to disrupt them, I decided instead to head across town to Dunollie Castle.

Dunollie Castle is a ruin of the seat of one of the West Highland clans. It sits perched precariously on a cliff overlooking the sea. Oddly enough, I ran into the wedding party again as I reached Dunollie and the Oban War Memorial. I will probably appear in dozens of their wedding pictures as a result. Anyway, Dunollie Castle can only be reached via a steep dirt path through the woods. As I traveled up this path in my dress and boots (non-climbing boots), it occurred to me that Scotland, and the UK in general, is not a very handicapped-friendly place. Monuments are often unreachable to anyone incapable of walking stairs or long distances. But then again, I've only ever seen perhaps a dozen people in wheelchairs throughout my numerous stays in the UK. Most people, even those missing limbs, use crutches. Either way, the view from Dunollie Castle was absolutely amazing.

McCaig's Folly

On the way back to the city center and my hostel, I passed the Oban War Memorial (thankfully wedding party-less at this point) and the Dog Stone. The Dog Stone is a large upright freestanding stone in the middle of a field. Legend has it that this is where the giant Fingal would tether his dog Bran. The narrow base of the rock is from where the leash rubbed away the stone. I checked into my hostel, Corran House, and found that I was assigned to a 4-bed mixed dorm with ensuite bathroom. Luckily for me, I had the entire room to myself during my visit. Somewhat unluckily, the room was located immediately above the bar, which boasted live karaoke until 1 am each night. That was not so fun.
I enjoyed a salmon and mixed vegetable dinner at Cuan A Mhor restaurant after which I climbed to McCaig's Folly. Then I walked passed the ferry terminal to the other side of town and sat in a park drinking my Diet Coke, drafting a letter to my boyfriend, and watching the sun set over the harbor. Quite pleasant.

I woke up early next morning and went in search of breakfast. It was a Sunday so Tesco (the grocery store) did not open to late and most cafes were closed for the day. Luckily, I found a panini place that was open and so grabbed a mozarella and tomato breakfast panini. Then it was off to the Caledonian MacBrayne ferry terminal to begin my tour to Mull, Staffa, and Iona. The ferry ride to the Isle of Mull took 45 minutes. I managed to stay on the outer deck for about 10 minutes before I started to freeze. That said, I still managed to catch some incredible photographs, including that of this white stone lighthouse.

When the ferry landed in Craignure, I boarded a bus that took us across Mull. The bus driver lives on the island, which has a population of only 2,000 or so, and provided hilarious anecdotes of everyday life. For example, the population is so small that there is no grocery store on the island. All shopping must be done at the Spar convenience stores or in Oban. As a result, most people grow their own food. Also, no babies have been born on Mull for the past 14 years because the hospital is only equipped to deal with emergencies. When women are due to go into labor, they are taken to the mainland for delivery. It took an hour to travel to Fionnphort, where we caught the ferry to Staffa.

Rock formations at Staffa Island

Staffa, which means 'stave' or 'pillar' in Old Norse, has been uninhabited since 1800. It is located 10km from Mull and can only be reached by ferry on days with good visibility. One of the main attractions is Fingal's Cave, a large sea cave that provided the inspiration for Felix Mendelssohn's Hebrides Overture. Tourists can actually climb into the cave; however, it is only accessible via a long narrow path along the rock face. I was quite happy to scramble away from the rope tethered to the wall and had fun jumping from rock to rock to get to the cave. Others looked like they were about ready to pass out and fall into the water.

Fingal's Cave, Staffa

After entering Fingal's Cave, I dashed (literally) to the other side of the island in the hopes of catching sight of the island's puffin colony, which was due to depart from the island for the sea any day at that time. Let me tell you, it is quite taxing to 'dash' anywhere when dressed in jeans, climbing jacket, hiking boots, and a full backpack. That said, I did a pretty good job of it and was as happy as a lark running over the hills and across the rocks. Sadly, the puffins had already departed.

After an hour on Staffa (on which I could have remained for a considerably longer period), I boarded the ferry to Iona.

Iona Abbey, Iona

Iona is well known for its abbey. The seat of Christianity in Scotland, the abbey was founded by St. Columba in the 6th century. Legend has it that over 60 kings, several of which are supposedly my ancestors, are buried in the Rèilig Odhrain, the cemetery


Other notable sites on Iona include the Celtic High Crosses that date from the 9th century, the abbey itself, and the ruins of the Benedictine nunnery. After roaming on Iona for several hours, it was back on the ferry to Fionnphort, the bus to Craignure, and the ferry to Oban. I did not arrive home until 8pm, by which time I was thoroughly exhausted.

Once again, I woke early on the third morning. I grabbed breakfast from a local cafe and a sandwich to eat at lunchtime later in the day, and set off for Pulpit Hill. McCaig's Folly provides an excellent view of Oban, but so does Pulpit Hill on the other side of town. I climbed the hill, enjoyed the fine early-morning views, and then started on the public footpath to the Kerrera Ferry in Gallanach. The public footpath consisted little more than a dirt track which quickly deteriorated into a muddy trail and, finally, a sheep pasture. This would set the tone for the rest of the day. 

Kerrera Island is a small island less than a mile from Oban. It has a population of 40 and is not exactly the most popular of tourist destinations. The ferry, which was little more than a tugboat, reflected this. A handful of me and my fellow passengers climbed into the back and enjoyed the five minute trip across the bay. I then began my 12-mile trek around the island. The entire island is essentially a giant sheep pasture punctuated by a few farms. Two hours into my hike, I had seen more sheep than I had in my previous 22 years of life. Indeed, by the time I reached Gylen Castle, I had seen more sheep than humans (the ratio was roughly 20,000 to 1). Reaching Gylen Castle once again required a hike up a cliff face and involved a nasty encounter with some stinging nettles. Suffice it to say, I emerged slightly worse for wear from this encounter. Gylen Castle was an impressive sight with magnificent views over the islands beyond, but I can't even imagine how isolated it must have been to live there during the 17th century when it was in its heyday. 

The next stop on my trip was the Hutcheson War Memorial at the completely opposite end of the island. It took several hours to get there, during which time I spent an hour or so afraid that I had gotten myself completely lost. I didn't have a map of the island and was relying on directions that were of such stellar caliber as: 'Follow the grassy track until you reach a sheep gate. Go through the gate and continue down the boggy track. Turn left at the stony beach.' (Prior to my trip, I had no idea what the difference between 'boggy' and 'muddy' was. Now I know. Boggy tracks will suck the shoes right off your feet.) Incidentally, I was not lost, but it was not until I found the slightly paved sheep path that my mind was finally set at ease. Prior to reaching the memorial, I encountered countless sheep, a few rams, several Highland cows, ducks, swans, a very friendly cat that followed me for a mile, pigs, and chickens. Most memorable was a horse that was lying flat on its side in a barn yard and, for all intents and purposes, appeared to be dead. Indeed, its eyes were closed and it did not move at all during the two minutes I stood staring at it. In fact, I was silently accepting the fact that this was life, when it sat up and looked at me like 'What? You thought I was dead?'.Very strange. 

I eventually reached the memorial and then made the long trek back to the ferry landing. It dropped me back at Gallenach and I made the additional 2-mile trek back to Oban city center. So in the end, my journey was about 14 miles. I was exhausted and it was all I could do to drag myself to the nearest bookstore to kill time before catching my train to Glasgow. The train ride took 3 hours and was on a train that could best be described as 'creaky' but could more aptly be considered 'falling apart'. Indeed, I almost hopped off at Crianlarich (a station I know well, having stopped at it on two occasions when in the Highlands with my boyfriend and his family earlier this summer) for fear of impending disaster as it coupled with the train from Fort William. I arrived in Glasgow shortly before 9:30 and caught the 10:00 train to Edinburgh. I arrived home at 11 and was almost dropping from exhaustion. A good trip to be sure.

Oban at Sunset

Gylen Castle, Kerrera

Blair Atholl

Entrance to Blair Castle, Blair Atholl

The week after I traveled to Linlithgow, I suffered a painful running injury that sidelined me for two weeks and causing immense emotional distress. For me, running is a form of personal therapy. It is an entirely selfish activity that helps me and benefits only me. It helps me deal with the stresses and anxieties of everyday life. Not being able to run meant that I did not have an outlet for these stresses and, as a result, my nerves were on edge for the entire two weeks. Not fun.

On July 24, I traveled to Blair Atholl to represent the Consulate at the Blair Atholl International Scouting Jamboree. According to my boyfriend, scouting jamborees are events where large numbers of Scouts gather together to talk, share experiences, cook things, trade things, and set things on fire. This was a very accurate description of what I experienced at Blair Atholl. The Jamboree was held from July 19 - 30 on the grounds of Blair Castle, ancestral seat of the Dukes and Earls of Atholl. Over 1000 Scouts (both girls and boys) from 10 countries participated in the event. Scottish Scouts camped in a field beyond the limits of the main Jamboree site while the international Scouts were arranged in six large sub-camps. Each international Scout troop was partnered with a Scottish troop. There were at least six troops from the US (including one from Maryland), but there were possibly more and I just didn't see them.

Main Tent at the Blair Atholl International Scouting Jamboree

July 24 was the International Faire part of the Jamboree, where the Scouts' family members were invited to come see what their children had been up to. Each troop developed a stall showcasing their country. Most of these stalls involved food of some sort, which could be purchased with 'atholls' (found in the program or purchased on the grounds of the event). Having eaten on the two hour train ride to Blair Atholl, I ended up giving away most of my atholls to some of the smaller Scouts running about. That said, I did try some apple Danish from a stand from Denmark and smores from the New York troop. Unfortunately,I now have the largest craving for smores ever. :(

Scouts from North Carolina peddling grits. Not a popular item.

Other stalls included steer roping (Texas), grits (North Carolina), sushi (Japan), haggis (Scotland), scones (England), bavarian creme (Germany), haggis bashing (Scotland), plus many more! During this, individual troops would gather on a stage to showcase their talents. I witnessed a Scottish troop playing the bagpipes, some North Carolinan troop leaders doing some sort of line dance, and a French group beat boxing. After an hour of this, I ventured to the subcamps to see if I could locate someone from the Maryland troop -- mainly to find out which part of Maryland they were from. Despite my creepy lingerings outside of their living quarters, I did not run into anyone from the troop and so left with my questions unanswered.

Blair Castle

The Faire continued on for the better part of the afternoon, but since I had already exhausted everything to do there (and since I was alone), I continued up the drive to Blair Castle. Built in the 15th century, it is still the ancestral seat of the earls of Atholl and is used as a residence. It is a magnificent estate and contains many interesting artifacts collected by the family over the centuries. It also contains a museum about the foundation of the Atholl Highlanders -- the only remaining private militia in Europe.

The Estate also boasts spectacular gardens. The Diana Garden is essentially controlled wilderness and contains some of the tallest redwoods and oaks in the UK. The Hercules Garden is a 18th century walled garden of 11 acres. It has a Chinese bridge, duck houses, and a curling house. It was absolutely beautiful, which, coming from someone who does not like gardens, is saying something.

Hercules Garden, Blair Castle

An Old Post now being Posted

First off: A big, huge THANK YOU to Kara and Alex who have supported me in my quest to raise money/raise awareness for WaterAid. This means so much to me. Thank you!!!!!

Yes, I am aware that I have been incredibly lax in updating this. Why? Because, honestly, there has not been much to write about. I wake up, go to work, come home, eat dinner, go to sleep. Still, there have been a few deviations from this routine.

Deviation numero uno: Linlithgow Palace
A week and a half ago I traveled to Linlithgow, 20 miles west of Edinburgh. (If you click on the map and move your cursor to the left you will see Edinburgh)

View Larger Map

Linlithgow is famous for Linlithgow Palace, built in 1424 by James I of Scotland and famed for being the birthplace of Mary Queen of Scots. It exists as ruins now, but as far as ruins go, they are pretty dang cool. I spent a few hours exploring the various rooms, and then took a hike around Linlithgow loch. I had planned to visit the 15th century St. Michael's Church situated right next to the palace, but they were having mass since it was Sunday.

Other pictures from Linlithgow:

Deviation 2: Blair Atholl  (see next post)

Deviation 3: Injury
The major change has been that I am injured and can no longer run. I have no idea how this injury occurred, but it has sidelined me for the past week. My frustration increases by the day and I have to force myself not to try and push the limits of my injury for fear of making it worse.

Deviation 4: Oban
Coming this weekend!

The Water Crisis - An SOS to the World

For my undergraduate Politics of the Middle East class, I wrote a paper on the potential for 'water wars' in the Jordanian River basin. With 97% of the earth's water supply unusable for domestic and agriculture purposes due to being saltwater, we are placing increasing demands on the remaining 3% (not all of which is accessible, some being located in ice caps and deep aquifers). In the future, water has the potential to become a weapon. States militarize in response to perceived threats to their security. Lack of access to water may well become one of the top security threats of the future if something is not done – and soon.

I am not as interested in the political implications of such a future as I am in what can be done to improve the situation now. By 2050, as many as a third of the Earth’s population may lack a clean source of water. Today, 1.1 billion, (one in eight) people lack access to safe water. Those who lack clean water are disproportionately located in developing countries, primarily in South America and Africa. Because the water scarcity crisis is ‘hidden’ away from the view of the West, it has remained a problem of which most people remain blissfully ignorant.

Unfortunately for those living in the affected areas, they do not have the option of remaining unaware of the crisis. While their husbands work to support the family, women are forced to walk hours (3-4 in each direction on average) to the nearest source of water, which may or may not be sanitary, in order to have enough for the household. Each person needs about 1.1 gallons of water a day for cooking and drinking. But to stay clean and healthy, 5-10 additional gallons per person are needed. The average woman is able to carry about 12 gallons of water at one time. With water collection taking up so much time for such little reward, it is no wonder then that water is often reserved for vital activities such as cooking as opposed to drinking and sanitation.

In a large number of cases, the water that communities do have access to is not safe. It must be boiled and purified before becoming suitable for consumption. Many communities do not have the money or resources to purchase such purification systems and so are forced to make do with the water that they have. Lack of education about the dangers of unpurified water and the benefits of proper hygiene also contributes to the problem. The end result is that diarrheal diseases such as cholera, typhoid, and dysentery -- diseases largely eradicated and thus forgotten about in the West -- kill up to 4,000 children every day. 2.2 million people in developing countries die each year from poor hygiene, inadequate sanitation, and lack of access to clean water.   

The result of water scarcity is that women are unable to seek outside unemployment that could help them to raise the quality of life for their families. Water scarcity means that thousands of children die every single day from preventable conditions such as diarrhea and dehydration. Those who do survive must forego educational opportunities to assist their mothers in collecting water. Education is widely recognized as the key to development; how can a community possibly hope to improve life for its members if its children are unable to be educated? This is not simply a matter of parents choosing not to send their children a school because they need extra hands. No, this is a matter of life or death: sending a child to school means one less container of water that is brought back to the household and subsequently possibly one less meal cooked or person’s thirst quenched.

For me, this is a crisis that is not about the security of states. It is about the welfare of the individual. It is about the women who are forced to remain uneducated in order to gather enough water for their families. It is about the thousands of children who die of dehydration and sanitation-related illnesses every single day. It is about my friend Ashleigh, who is serving with the Peace Corps in Mali and who is already witnessing first-hand the effects of water scarcity on the people. And it is about my cousin Kenneth who will soon move to rural Burkina Faso with his wife, where access to clean water will undoubtedly be a problem that he will encounter. For those who are unaware, Mali and Burkina Faso are amongst the poorest countries in the world. In Mali, 27% of the population has access to clean water. The situation is little better in Burkina, where 50% of the population has access to clean water and just 15% to sanitation.

I one day hope to work directly to combat water scarcity and the global health issues created by it in the communities most affected by it. At the moment, this ability lies in the future as I attend graduate school and develop the skills necessary to actively influence positive changes. However, this does not mean that something cannot be done about the situation right now. On August 28, 2010, I will be running the Patrick Henry Half Marathon (13.1 miles) in Ashland, Virginia. In addition to fulfilling a personal goal, I hope to raise money to support one of the leading NGOs fighting water scarcity WaterAid. WaterAid (WaterAid) currently operates programs in 26 countries dedicated to improving access to safe water, hygiene and sanitation. Instead of merely ‘dumping’ aid money on governments (most of which is lost through corruption and mismanagement), WaterAid works in local communities to improve conditions by using sustainable, low-cost technologies and education. I am asking for your support in whatever way you can give it. If you feel inclined to donate, you can do so through the following website: http://www.firstgiving.com/rebeccakaisler or by contacting me directly. Any donation at all is appreciated, but so will supporting me in my run on August 28^th.

(And no, the intention of writing this note was not to ask for money. It was to raise awareness and ask for your support, be it financial or emotional. I entertain no delusions that I will be able to raise a significant sum of money before August 28^th, especially in these hard economic times. Much more achievable is my goal of educating others about the water scarcity crisis that is occurring. This is a cause about which I am deeply passionate and will most likely be conducting research on for my graduate dissertation at King’s College London next year. While I do not expect everyone to change their habits or become involved in this issue simply because of the information that I have presented here, I do hope that at least one person will investigate the subject further. Change results from small steps rather than large leaps.)

For more information on the water crisis, please see the following sites:

National Geographic - Slave to Water

The Rehydration Project

"Oh my gosh, I'm so in love, I found you finally"

WEek 6 is done. 4 more to go! 28 days until I see my parents, brother, animals, and boyfriend!!!!

Upcoming events:
Saturday, July 17: 10-mile run to the ends of the earth. Not quite, but this is what it seems like on the day before. I am nervous! But excited!
Sunday, July 18: Trip to Linlithgow. It seems a waste to take the train for 18 minutes, but the buses are unreliable. Soo...18 minutes on the train it is!
Saturday, July 24: Burns Day events in the morning (celebrating the death of Robert Burns) at Calton Hill; International Scouting Jamborette in Blair Atholl in afternoon. I am repping the Consulate at both events.
Sunday, July 25: 11-miler. ACK!
Thursday, July 29: Chinese Consulate event.
Saturday, July 31 - Monday, August 2: Oban trip
Monday, August 2: 7th month anniversary with Drew :)
Sunday, August 8: Trip to Stirling.
Friday, August 13: Last day at Consulate.
Saturday. August 14: Ho
Saturday, August 28: Patrick Henry Half Marathon, Ashland, VA. Drew's Birthday.
Saturday, September 17: Leave for grad school.

Don't bring me down

Life continues on in Edinburgh.

It has been a tough past few weeks. This was to be expected. Part of the reason that I came back was to confront...things. Confrontation is hard, as are most worthwhile things in life. Luckily, the old adage of 'what doesn't kill you can only make you stronger' has proven true for me in most cases. So here is to being infinitely stronger when I return to the US.

The highlight of my week thus far has been planning Saturday's 10-mile run. For those who need to be reminded, I'll be running the Patrick Henry Half Marathon on August 28th. 13.1 miles, or, in the words of the guard at the Consulate 'a hell of a long way'. My sentiments exactly. But then again, this is another 'kill you or strengthen you' situation. Ideally running the half marathon will not kill me, although considering the fact that I will be running in Virginia in late August and have been training in Scotland, the temperature disparity (predicted temperatures of 80s-90s versus the 50s-60s I've been running in) may certainly do so. We shall see. I have been training hard though. Last Saturday I ran 9 miles in the rain. It was supposed to be 8, but I missed a turn, got lost, and was chased by an ugly ass dog that I thought was going to bite me. On the plus side, I found the IKEA, which is not even located in Edinburgh. It is outside of the city limits. Which is the point when I decided that it might be best to turn around -- when I saw the sign that said 'Thank you for visiting Edinburgh. Goodbye!'. Obviously I survived my excursion, but have learned that this week I should be better prepared. And so this week I will be running a meticulously planned route that totals out at 10.1 miles. It will be the longest run I have ever done. So we shall see how this goes.

If I survive the run, I plan to go to Linlithgow Palace on Saturday afternoon (although this might be moved to Sunday depending on the condition that I am in and how long it takes me to complete my run).

"My salvation lies in your love."

So, it has been quite a few days since I last posted. Mainly this is because I spent the time with my friend Chris (my former suitemate from SMCM) and then my boyfriend and his family when they came to visit. The Consulate celebrated the 4th of July in style at the Caledonian Hilton on July 2nd with over 300 attendees (including my boyfriend and his parents). Oh...and I turned 22 years of age. I am positively decrepit. I had heard that it was all downhill from 21, and boy do I believe it. When can I retire?

Because there is too much that occurred during the past few weeks and I am likely to lose motivation to finish the post if I attempt to describe it all, this will be a picture post with some descriptions. If you can't access it, let me know and I can send the pictures directly in an email or include a more detailed description of my activities. Note: I will not post pictures of anyone who has not given me express permission to post about them.

My former suitemate Chris came to visit for a few days on his way home from the SMCM study tour in Greece. Unfortunately, I had to work every day, but we still managed to have fun. Of particular interest was our trip to Craigmillar Castle and the Mercat Tour's Gallows to Graveyard ghost tour (from which this picture is taken). Chris was quite popular on the ghost tour and role-played out the stories on several occasions. Probably because he looks like Matt Damon. Also of note was that Chris and I successfully made a wonderful pasta involving shrimp, sun-dried tomatoes, mushrooms, asparagus, garlic, and pesto. This is quite the accomplishment for me. It was lovely having Chris visit and although I wish that I could have had more free time with which to show him around, I still think we managed to have a great time. 

Drew arrived in Edinburgh on June 30th. I met him at the airport and was quite nervous to see him since we had been apart for a month. But the moment I saw him round the corner at International Arrivals, it was as if the time had never occurred. The thirty days didn't matter at all, because it was as if we had picked up right where we left off on May 30th in Dulles.  As with Chris' visit, I had to work during the days that Drew was in Edinburgh, especially since the Consulate's Independence Celebration was occurring on July 2nd and everyone was in super-panic mode. I did manage to get off two half days though, and thoroughly enjoyed walking around town with Drew.

The theme of the Consulate's 4th of July party was 'freedom, Americana, and rock 'n' roll'. Naturally, this meant that we had to have Harley-Davidson and Jack Daniels' as sponsors. Our welcome drinks include Jack and Coke mixes, and Jack and lemonaide. Harley strategically located several awesome bikes around the foyer and main party room. Despite the fact that I have no interest in ever owning a motorcycle, I still had to get my photograph on one. To preserve my bad-ass reputation, of course. 

One of the particular highlights of the event was the presentation of a limited edition lithograph (no. 4 of 100) of the 1320 Declaration of Arbroath by Minister of Culture, Fiona Hyslop, to Consul Dana Linnet. The Declaration is incredibly important in Scottish history as it declared Scotland's status as a sovereign, independent state after Pope John XXII recognized Edward I of England as overlord of Scotland. Robert the Bruce and the Scottish nobles who signed the declaration were not pleased and so signed the declaration. It likely influenced the US Declaration of Independence. I had the opportunity to see the original at a ceremony earlier in the day. It was last displayed to the public in 2001 and will next be on show in 2020. For a history major such as myself, it was an emotional moment. The rest of the party went off without a hitch and afterwards Drew and his parents took me out for an absolutely amazing dinner. I can honestly say that I could not have had a better birthday. I will remember it forever. (Although I am not particularly keen to note the age. I am a 22 year old dating an 18 year old. AH!!! Cradle-robber indeed!!!!)

We left Edinburgh early the next morning for the Highlands. Drew's family is from the north of Scotland and they have gone on road trips in the past. I was honored to have been invited to accompany them on this one. We took a rental car from the airport to Fort William, and I immediately was envious of Drew's father's driving skills. I doubt that I would have been able to so easily adapt to the differences between the US and UK driving methods. Since the trip to Bettyhill, the town where Drew's family is from, was too lengthy for a straight-shot trip, we stopped in Fort William on Saturday afternoon so that Drew and I could climb Ben Nevis. Ben Nevis is the highest mountain in the UK and is frequently used by climbers to train for Mt. Everest (despite the fact that it is roughly 22,000 ft shorter than Everest). I have wanted to climb the Ben since I first came to Scotland in 2004, but have never been in the situation where I had others who wanted to climb it with me. This time, I had my wonderful boyfriend. And so, beginning at 1:30PM on July 3, we started for the summit. 

My Lonely Planet guidebook had warned me that the entire trip would take 8-10 hours, and we had told Drew's parents that we would be back at the foot of the mountain by 8PM at the latest for safety reasons, so we started with dim spirits as to the possibility of making it to the top. The trip was arduous, but not entirely unpleasant. It wasn't until the summit when the cloud cover reduced visibility to 20ft and fogged up my glasses, and when the low temperature and heavy winds made it feel as if I was being physically assaulted, that it really got miserable. We reached the summit at 4:30 and left at 4:36. Take home message: no climbing Mt. Everest for me. Nope. Not worth it. 

We spent the night in Fort William and then it was northwards again on Sunday. Passing Inverness, Helsmgard, and Tain, we ended up in Tongue and then drove west to Bettyhill. With a population of 500, it made Clifton Forge seem large, which is no mean feat! The picture below was taken looking at Farr Beach.