Trip Report, 2005 (continued)  

    Getting out of Perth was an adventure. But I seem to be getting used to driving on the left side of the road, so my problems were mostly related to odd, poorly-marked street corners and a crappy map. No worse than the first time I drove in San Francisco.

      Made it to Stirling well before check-in time at the hotel, so I had a look at the castle first. Relieved to know that the lay of the land is close enough to what I'd imagined that the scenes I've written don't need to be changed. I will add things, but fortunately I don't have to alter a major plot point. Again I'm frustrated by the fact that none of the structures I'm visiting existed during the period I'm writing. The "Stirling Castle" referred to in my research was an entirely different building that once existed on the spot where the current castle stands. I gather from one of the plaques in it that there was a chapel standing on the same spot as the existing chapel, but that's all anyone seems to know, and nobody knows what the thing looked like. Not as much fun as my last trip, when I could look at the wall of the garrison at Fort William and know this was the very wall my character went over, etc. Except for mountains and rivers, nothing existing now-not even trees-were here back then.

      The directions to the hotel have neglected to take into account that the last sign pointing toward the castle directs one to go the wrong way up a one-way street. I had the unique opportunity to ponder what side of the road one takes under that circumstance. Fortunately the traffic was doing something like five miles an hour.

      I've got three nights in Stirling. A luxury of time to wander about. I'm going to check out the Bannockburn Visitors' Centre in the morning, and maybe buzz up to Dunblane to that take-away shop where I got that fabulous steak pie last time I was here.

      I can hear the bagpipes playing out in front of the castle from my hotel room. It's surely a sound that carries, and must have been ideal for inspiring and commanding soldiers in the field. A haunting sound, heard from a distance.

July 30

      Urgh. Headache. An entire afternoon shot to hell. I can't even read when I'm like this. All I can do is take a decongestant and lie down for a while.

      The morning, however painful, was spent at the Bannockburn Memorial where I had a good look at the lay of the land and perused the exhibit. The living history presentation was great fun, picking the brain of a lovely lad in chain mail, leather and ::cough:: spurs named Robert. Unlike most of the National Trust hired help, he knew his stuff and even was able to tell me things I didn't already know. I came away with a new appreciation of the claymore, and a different perspective of the Knights Templar.

      Wow. I just counted the photos I've put on my computer during this trip. 149 so far. And there would have been more if I hadn't run out of battery at Urquart Castle. I never would have taken this many pictures without a digital camera. I only have 14 from the last trip.

      Headache is on the run, but I'm so zoned on decongestants I can hardly stand. They didn't quite know what to make of me in the dining room this evening, especially after I declined the wine menu. I wish there were good fish and chips take-away nearby.

July 31

      Made it to Dunblane today. Had tried to find it yesterday, but got slightly lost and the headache sent me back to the hotel. So today I went looking for that fish and chips shop where I'd had that wonderful steak pie on my last trip. The shop is no longer there, which is a shame, and the Chinese restaurant across the street is boarded up. I strolled down the street to see if there was someplace else to eat, and encountered an "Italian" deli run by a guy who was the most Arabic-sounding Italian I've ever seen. Maybe he was really Greek, I dunno. In any case, he had some really great olives and gave me a sample. I bought a roasted ham sandwich, a diet coke, and a sampler pack of cheeses, then went to eat on a bench by the bus stop in the town center. The weather was cool and not rainy, so it was kinda nice. Great view of the cathedral up the hill.

      I noticed a tiny museum across the street from it, called The Cathedral Museum. After finishing my lunch I went to see if this museum had any information going back more than a century. Bingo. That cathedral apparently has been more or less intact for nearly nine hundred years. They ran a video tape for me that told all about it, and the guy running the place told me about this little building that had been discovered just across from it. It's a chapel now, but nobody knows what it was originally. I think I can come up with an idea on that.

      So I went to take pictures, but as I was leaving the museum I heard bell music. Not church bells, but English handbells. There was a choir playing nearby. So I followed the sound and found a small festival going on. About seven or ten small (three or four octave) choirs had been assembled in one of the church buildings, practicing a piece. The director was American, and I was dying to know who he was but I didn't want to interrupt. So I listened, feeling homesick. I finally went to take pictures of the chapel, very pleased that the day was working out so nicely.

      After that I thought hard about going to the Wallace Monument, but twinges of the headache were coming back and I wasn't sure I wanted to fight the tourist crowds again. There's something to be said for doing this stuff late in the season when the weather is cooler and las touristas are in for the winter.

      So now I'm just resting. The decongestant seems to have knocked out the lurking headache, and I've decided that maybe getting some work done on the project rather than traipsing all over the countryside might be the thing to do. Tomorrow I'll have a lot of walking to do around Edinburgh and in the museum, so perhaps resting the feet might be a good idea. I can catch the Wallace Monument on the next trip.

      It's Thursday, and I guess a lot of tours are checking in. Every time a busload of tourists arrives, they're piped in by this gray-haired guy. He plays extremely well. On the one hand I like hearing the pipes, but on the other hand it's such a show for the tourists. I think if the guy were out there during certain times of the day, just playing for the sake of playing-or even for tips-that would be...more sincere, I suppose. Like the Great Pumpkin, perhaps, I think sincerity is important.

August 1

      Edinburgh. Got lost again, this time trying to get into town. One of these days I'm going to figure out how to drive in Edinburgh without getting lost. I figure this time, though, I'm ahead of the game because I didn't have to stop for directions. I just followed signs that said "Castle," and when I finally could see the castle I knew where I was and which way I needed to go to get to the Hertz place. There I gladly left the car. No more driving on the left...until next time.

      I checked my bags at the hotel, being four hours early for check-in, and took off for the Royal Mile. Crossing the North Bridge, there went my knee. Limping now. Oh, well, I guess I should be glad it lasted this long before going wonky on me. The woolens shop I wanted to hit is no longer there. Just as well, because that would have been a several hundred dollar hit to my credit card if it had been. I did find the fudge shop right where I left it, and scored a couple of hunks that are worth the trip just by themselves. Whiskey, and chocolate/white chocolate, both so fresh, on the inside they have the consistency of peanut butter. Yum. Went to the museum, mostly to take photos of things I didn't take pictures of last time. Got good ones. Then wandered up to the castle just on principle. Coming to Edinburgh without having a look at the crown jewels would be like going to Rome and not visiting the Pope. I also picked up a few nice tidbits about Bruce's coronation. Still don't know what the vestments looked like, but I have a better idea of what other folks might think they looked like. I had another look at David's Tower, and find they've excavated a whole lot more of it than they had last time I was here. Last time there was just one chamber and a steel catwalk poking out over it. But now there are several chambers on display, and it looks less like a cave and more like a series of castle rooms. Way closer to my period than the fancy palaces built later.

      Did I say I wished to hear a bagpipe playing just to be playing? There's a guy outside my hotel window just a-playing away. So far his repertoire has covered everything on the CD I wake up to every morning, except "Amazing Grace." Even money he plays that one, too, before dark. This is actually lucky, though, it's a bagpipe and not something less appropriate. Walking up the Royal Mile, it's like a carnival there today. There are more street musicians per square inch than I've ever seen in any city in the US. (Especially Nasvhille, aka "Music City," where there is actually a city ordinance against playing music in the street, a disgraceful state of affairs and all Nashvillians should hang their heads in shame.) All sorts of music is being played. Baroque recorder, ragtime piano, Hungarian fiddle, folk guitar, and there's one aborigine-looking guy plucking on a bow and banging a drum.

      Okay, third time around for "Scotland the You-Know-What." Learn some more songs, guys.

      My room overlooks the Scott Memorial. It overlooks it so well, in fact, I have to keep my curtains closed so las touristas hanging over the railings don't accidentally get photos of me lounging in disarray before my computer. I can see the castle from here, too, which is way cool. Time to lie down for a while before the Tattoo tonight. Pretty cool to call a cab and when asked where I'm going be able to say, "To the castle." Like Cinderella, or something. Worth a giggle, anyway.

      Edinburgh Military Tattoo. As touristy things go, this was a cut above. Okay, it was breathtaking. No, belay that, it was like someone grabbed my heart and yanked it from my chest. I hadn't realized exactly what the show was; I'd just had this vague idea it was drums and bagpipes. I hadn't known all the performers are soldiers in their respective armies. Okay, duh, "Military" Tattoo. Silly me.

      It was stunning to witness the precision, discipline, and one suspects national pride displayed by these young soldiers. Seeing pipers in desert camouflage took me aback, but it reminded me of a story in the Scotsman a couple of months ago, about a soldier playing bagpipes during the invasion of Iraq. These guys had just come back from there, and I wondered if the young man in the story was one of these pipers. The US was represented by the United States Army Rifle Drill Team, who marched around, flinging real, bayoneted Springfields this way and that. Lots of loud cheering for them; we Americans are so uncouth. But those guys did look way cool, and they were our guys.

      In the end, I left the castle with a lump in my throat and a tear in my eye.

August 2

      London Calling. Train ride was long and boring. Sad to be leaving Scotland, and actually would prefer to be going home. I'm not particularly bunged up over the concept of train travel. The seat is more comfortable than a plane, but the trip is longer and rougher. I sure can't read on this trip, and hesitate to break out the computer. (PDAs are our friends.)

      I find the English countryside looks amazingly like Middle Tennessee, and spent the whole ride going, "Yeah, been there. Done that." The taxi ride from King's Cross to Victoria Station (yeah, I know there's an underground, but by now my suitcase is half-filled with books and whiskey and it's extremely heavy) was long and expensive, but I did catch a look at Big Ben and Westminster Abbey. Photos just do not do justice to those places. Not at all. The incredible detail of the architecture has to be seen to be appreciated. Even just looking out the cab window as I went past, I had to go "Wow."

      I suppose I should go across the street and have a good look at the train station, but from what I've seen of it it's not that remarkable. Maybe I just haven't seen the good part, I dunno.

      While there's something to be said for returning to civilization, I still want to someday take a writing retreat somewhere in the Highlands. I'd like to rent a cottage for a month or so and just hang out in one spot. Now that I've pretty thoroughly done the tourist thing, I think it would be cool to get to know one place on more than a superficial level. It was nice to hang out at the school for an entire week and meet people. That's nearly impossible for me to do if I'm moving around too much.

August 3

      Today was tooling around London with native guide extraordinaire, James A. Hartley, aka Evil Brother James, aka the talented and scintillating Jay Caselberg. First thing was to hop aboard a double decker bus, which is something I hadn't counted on but I'm just as happy to have done it so I can say I have done it. Excellent view from up there. Our main objectives were lunch and Murder One, but the bookstore was closed on Sunday. Rats. Oh, well, the New World Chinese Restaurant was first rate dim sum and lots of fun. I'd never been in one of those places, where the food is carted around from table to table and you take a little of this and a little of that. Hey, I live in the sticks and I'm culturally deprived. That's why I take these trips, so I can find out what the rest of the world is like.

      We wandered about, checking out locations for the final scene of the current project, drank a bit of coffee, had a near miss getting to gawk at Colin Firth, and at the hottest point in the afternoon went to see "Terminator 3" in an air-conditioned theatre. I'm sure by now I've missed seeing it in the States, so I was glad to find it playing here. Good flick. Stunning visuals, and there was a good story besides. I still would have liked to have seen the scene when John first meets his father, Kyle Reese, but perhaps that's just  better left to the imagination. I doubt the actor who played John in this flick could have handled it adequately anyway.

      Aaaanyway, after the movie there was more wandering about. Went through Trafalgar Square, heard Big Ben strike six o'clock, witnessed the changing of some sort of horse guard (obviously not the guys who are famed for not cracking a smile; these guys were grinning up a storm), then sat for a while watching this statue lady outside the Embankment Station. She was painted a bronze color and was making like a statue except when she was playing games with and blowing kisses to the passers-by. It was nice and cool in the shade there, and she was a pleasant amusement for a while. Good to have a mellow afternoon of not having to feel I'm accomplishing something.

      Trip finished now, and I'm waiting for room service to arrive (yes, there is something to be said for the big city.) Nothing left but to get myself to Heathrow on the morrow and make it through customs in Chicago. Long travel day ahead, and I hope I don't have to haul my luggage very far because it's so full of books and whiskey I can hardly roll it.

      All in all, I've had a ripping good time, as well as having gathered enough material to fully justify deductibility in the eyes of the IRS. Dang, I love my job!

August 4 (and 5!)

      Flight from Chicago to Nashville cancelled because bad weather damaged a boarding ramp at BNA, or something.  Got the news at about 10:30 Chicago time, which for me is 4:30 the next morning. We were actually backing away from the gate, after a two-hour delay, when we got the news we were staying the night. By then I was quite ready to curl up in a corner of the terminal to sleep, but they wouldn't let me. So, barely able to stand, let alone cope,  I got in line to rebook my transportation home. Unfortunately I got in line behind a Great American Businessman who felt the need to book alternate possibilities for himself, depending on how his meeting went the next morning. Forty-five minutes later, most of the rest of the passengers had their tickets and I was still waiting behind Mr. Great American Businessman. Bad enough I'd come from London that morning, but the poor lady behind me had just come in from Belgium, and we all still had to reclaim our luggage and locate the shuttle to a hotel. This guy's response to the complaints coming from those of us behind him was "I don't want to have to explain this again in the morning."

      Oh. Well, then, we'll just shut up and continue to wait while you plan your day.

      To the airline's credit, the hotel and all meals today are comped, but that meant little until I could GET to the hotel. I'm afraid I wasn't very pleasant company, particularly when the guy whose line I was in, who had just spent forty-five minutes booking flights for Mr. Great American Businessman, suddenly decided he was going to just do hotel vouchers for people who already had flights booked. My response was...unladylike.

      When I finally was able to reclaim my luggage, haul it out to the curb, find the shuttle, get to the hotel, and stagger to my room, I called Dale to let him know where I was. He had to interrupt my rant four times to get a word in edgeways.

      Today has not been much better. At 6:24 this ayem the nitwit in the room next door turned on his TV and cranked it up loud enough that I could actually follow the news report he was watching. What kind of idiot does stuff like that?

      I now know more about Chicago O'Hare than I ever wanted to know. These terminals are getting way too familiar.

August 6

      Made it home. A new kitten has joined our family, (Jacob) Marley. I couldn't sleep past three-thirty this morning, and I am not looking forward to having to drive on the right side of the road.

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