The Firth of Forth Is A Fjord and Other Alliterations
Tag: photography
Hard To Feel Oppressed With All This Color About
Sure, they used to hang folks from the gallows here in Grassmarket Square. All that remains today, however, is the brightly colored social center of Edinburgh, with luscious pubs, fabulous and diverse food, and boutique shops for cheese, antique maps & books, clothing, and 16th century structures repurposed as entertainment venues. Love it!
One Grave In Every Necropolis Belongs To The Ghouls
Glasgow, cloudy with a chance of meatballs, and the sun shining from one side. We amble from great gothic Glasgow Cathedral up the epic hill where every prominent citizen’s family & friends apparently competed for giant tombstones, garish monuments, stone remembrances. Except for John Knox, who predates the Necropolis, and who’s monument is tallest of all. Fascinating place, and not even a bit creepy. Just felt like history, and great views of the city.
Neurotics Build Castles, Psychotics Live In Them, My Mother Cleans Them
Panoramic photos don’t make for great photoblog posts, but we were rambling along Princes Street in Edinburgh, looked up in the steady rain, and saw this and thought perhaps I might share it anyway, because those dramatic Scottish clouds painted up the sky over Edinburgh Castle.
Another beautiful burg with loads of point and shoot opportunities everywhere you turn. Amazing, lovely Scotland.
Good Fortune Might Be A Fantasy A Wee Bit Above Glasgow’s Station
The title of today’s blogpost refers to the innate modesty of the lovely Scottish people, and indeed the UK in general; though Glasgow is a beautiful fall colored city with its muted cinnamon, red, and yellow bricks soot stained by centuries and often rehabilitated for the 21st century by modern neon signs and decor, the vestiges of Gothic religion dominate its architecture, its ruins, its iconic locations, and ultimately the feeling that any good thing that inspires passion ought to be tempered back down to reality, lest it be crushed under its unassuming ambitions.
We are day 2 wandering in Glasgow after a lovely rainy afternoon with relatives yesterday. I shuddered at taking the hop on, hop off boss, given my general eye rolling experiences back home in San Francisco with such things, but it proved to be an efficient way to see the city and decide where to go, given that we are only here a weekend. Glasgow city & west end feel largely San Francisco sized, all things are walking distances, there are lovely cobblestone and brick promenades all over the place, and Glaswegians are on the alert to step outside in a jiffy if there’s a break in the clouds and the sun comes out.
The picture today was on my way walking to Glasgow Cathedral, a reminder there are still bits of 1800’s buildings that will be NOT be preserved for the ages. They’ll eventually be knocked down, modernized, replaced with new things. That’s Glasgow’s reinvention of itself, and the city holds a fond place in my heart for this trip and a return; there’s far too much to do here than a weekend allows.
All These Ancient Ruins Make One Indifferent To Time
To the far north tip of the Isle of Skye lie the ruins of Duntulm Castle, late of Clan Macdonald, who, not unlike their Macdonald relatives did at Armadale Castle on Skye, punted on their castle in 1732 and built a glorified farmhouse out of its stones a few miles south. Seriously?
Dave the Busdriver tells us a local legend: the clan abandoned the castle after the infant son of a chieftain who lived there fell out of window while in the charge of a nursemaid, dashed on those rocks you see below. Sufficiently bad juju that they set the nursemaid adrift in the Atlantic sea in a tiny boat.
The Isle of Skye continues its artwork clouds, dramatic landscape, and green fields beneath a bright sun. No doubt it’d be just as dramatic beneath the gray clouds and rain. Onward we go.
My Kindle Is The Cathedral Where I Worship, My Stories As Precious As Prayers
Gothic pretention, ominous clouds finally forming overhead and drizzling lightly, making Scotland’s green pop brightly in the drizzly downpour. I’m cautious about posting YACIS (yet another cathedral in Scotland) because they are many and they are medieval, and frequently started by hermit monks with practices that make no sense, like total silence. What happens if you get an ouchie? Not even a peep? (thanks, Dave)
The cathedral at Dunkeld is not only the first wholly preserved cathedral we’ve seen–they still observe ceremony there–but it’s got the sarcophagus of the nutjob grandchild of Robert the Bruce; a fella they called the Wolf of Badenoch or the Celtic Atilla for his prodigious craziness in burning cathedrals to the ground and 40 illegitimate offspring by numerous different mothers. What a peach! For that he got a forever tomb in 1405 behind the altar at one of the more beautiful Gothic churches we’ve seen to date. Real true stories!
The Higher The Building, The Lower The Morals
The Wallace Monument is a glorious 1869 architecture piece perched atop Abbey Craig near Stirling, Scotland, commemorating the life of one William Wallace, he of the blue faced Mel Gibson Braveheart war cries that represent such a fictionalization of what actually happened that our historian bus driver Dave represents the conflicted national pride the locals have of that movie: great for tourism and we love our Will; bummer Mel painted an elaborate deception that confuses the world about what really happened. But hey, it’s the movies!
In the net, it’s a gorgeous monument that works my wide shoulders and legs as I skinny up the turret to the open spire up top, with gorgeous pastoral views to the surrounding area. Who built this crazy stuff anyhow? Why is everyone sweating and breathing like snuffly hogs within the echoey sandstone?
The Light On The Glen Was Green and Incomparably Sad
The bus travels through the winding glen above Rannock More, on our way to Glencoe, where our driver cheerfully sits on a granite rock and tells us another tragedy in Scottish history, a rather horrific massacre in 1692. Let’s just say, invoking “highland Hospitality” would give these village folks more than a moment’s pause.
In any case, the Ice Age carved beautiful miracles here, grooved green slopes beneath the continuing blue skies. If you look closely you’ll see the triple tier waterfall midway up the slope, and the folks who live in that white house at the foothills near a creek at the end of a windy dirt road…wait, do I need to say more? It’s a fairytale land, so I’ll let it lie.
Kick The Giant Steel Horse, And He’ll Hurt Your Big Toe Without Moving An Inch
The bus drives on northward and we land near the Kelpies, a pair of 50 meter high giant stainless steel horses with rivets as big as canned hams and full of relentless silent judgment looking down upon us all. They went up in 2013, so they’re a new anomaly in a stunning land that cherishes its soot stained historic brick masonry. To my dismay so far, Scotland is enjoying an epic bout of summer sun; more blue sky than clouds this first week. I’m melting in it, while Dave the Bus Driver wears shorts instead of his kilt, and he and the other pale skin types turn lobster red, as we’d all prepared for gloom. It can change, so I’m hoping! Weather is all about timing; one lady said her daughter toured 2 weeks ago and they couldn’t see anything through the constant deluge. Dave says it’s been since June that they’ve actually seen anything close to this, and it’s supposed to be like this all week. Bah. My first world heat complaints fall on deaf deity ears.
A Tangled Mind In Motion 