Homeward bound again.
I carefully collected Italian coins when I went to Italy, and naturally enough I decided to collect some UK coins in Scotland. I carefully sorted my coins to keep examples of each major minting (not each year, just head/tail combinations).
The US gets along with the penny, nickel, dime, and quarter plus slowly increasing use of dollar coins. Yes, we have $0.50 pieces and a few other oddities but they are rare.
In common circulation the UK has 1p, 2p, 5p, 10p, 20p, 50p, one pound, and two pound coins. They do not use one pound notes – the smallest paper money is a five. Paper notes, BTW, are not only issued by multiple mints but given distinctly different appearances by those mints. The Banks of England, Scotland, and Wales all issue currency. I expect this accounts for some of the variety in coins, as well. All the currency I took over was Bank of England, but much (though not all) of the paper change I got was Bank of Scotland. Anyway, back to coins.
The US has state (and now territory and national park) quarters.
In the UK I collected 31 different one pound coins, ignoring year marks.
The one pound coin is a solid hunk of metal – about the same diameter as a quarter but twice as thick. It is, notably, thick enough that they print words on the edge. This process must be at a different stage than the stamping, however, since the text shows up both ‘right side up’ and ‘upside down’ relative to the obverse/reverse. Three different faces are in use (all of Queen Elizabeth, just different portraits) and over a dozen different backs; about half of these had multiple faces, indicating a long minting history.
I bought two bottles of whiskey at the duty-free store, brining my total inbound load to just under four liters in eighteen containers. Yes, I declared it at US customs.
While at Heathrow I also saw my first A380 in person. I admit to prejudice, but they look like big ugly birds to me. The 747 which carried me back to Seattle is a much prettier aircraft.
British Airways served a tasty meal and 'high tea' on the return leg, which according to departure and arrival times was only an hour long. Ah, the fun of time zones. I managed to watch several movies in that hour.
Speaking of US Customs, three uniformed and two plainclothes CBP officers (granted, the latter could have been anything from local detectives to FBI – I can’t read plainclothes THAT well) were waiting on the jetway for the flight. A wall of uniforms at the official “border” I expected (and got), but five LEOs on the jetway makes me think something unusual was going on. What, I will probably never know. Entry into the US involved more paperwork than entry into the UK but no questions at all (OK, returning citizen vs. entering foreigner – I still expected more hassle on the US end). It seems reasonable to conclude that whatever caused five cops on the jetway had the rest of the CBP focusing on other things too, and uninterested in me.
All in all it was a marvelous trip. Not flawless, to be sure, but if I was offered the chance to do it all over again, flaws included, I would.
What more can one say?
Thank you Scotland for bagpipes, whiskey, dancing, and just being a blast in general.
Showing posts with label Scotland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Scotland. Show all posts
Monday, May 13, 2013
Saturday, May 11, 2013
Scotland Day 10
American tourist move of the day: needing to buy a piece of luggage to get all the souvenirs home.
Britishisms: too many to count. Heck, I found myself slipping unintentionally into a vaguely Scottish accent at one point…
Look, one of my suitcases was on its last legs anyway, OK? Yes, I most certainly DID leave room in my bags on the trip out for expected souvenirs.
I just didn’t leave nearly enough. Even with another bag it was a tight squeeze.
The American Contingent spent yet more time with the newlyweds. Notably, six of us went to the Scotch Malt Whiskey Society.
The SMWS is not a normal bar, nor do they even have a normal selection of whiskey. All the bottles behind the bar are the same shape, color, and have labels in the same pattern. The labels do not bear the names of distilleries, they bear numbers. And almost every one of them contains cask-strength single malt Scotch.
Cask strength means that the whiskey has not been cut with water (a normal step in the bottling process) after it is taken from the cask it was aged in. Thus while normal whiskey is ~80 proof, cask strength is ~120 proof.
I had assumed that something with that high an alcohol content would overwhelm the flavor. Laphroaig had already corrected that impression.
The SMWS showed me what I’d been missing. Cask strength not only gives fuller flavors, it makes it easier to pick out the subtle flavors one often sees listed on the better grade of whiskey. I suppose a connoisseur might find this like hitting a tack nail with a sledgehammer, but I do not have that refined or trained a palate. Four of us were drinking, and each of us ordered three drams, with much exchanging of tastes.
You might wonder how we decided what to order, there being only numbers to order by. Well, each number has a description. Not a sentence or two on the side of a bottle, a long paragraph of whimsical text which is as likely to note a hint of gasoline, or advise you to call to mind a Christmas dinner, as it is to mention a ginger finish. Names are applied, but no boring distillery name – “An enticement of sweet oak.” “Heather honey and burnt toast.” “Doctors’ surgeries and flower shops.” Drams are placed in one of 11 categories based on cost. This range from ~$7.50 for a Green Dram to about $50 for a White Dram, not forgetting the Copper Dram (which is more than the Gold Dram) or the Tartan Dram. I think whoever made the list had a few too many drams in their system at the time.
Sadly, they were out of “Below the Decks of the HMS Britannia.”
They do tell you the region (Speyside, Islay, etc.), the cask type, and so forth, in addition to the more entertaining elements of the description. For that matter, crowdsourcing has provided an app which you can use to look up the distillery, as part of the number is keyed that way. Without this aid I still managed to order three delicious drams, and I don’t think anyone got one they didn’t like.
I shall be exploring cask strength whiskeys with great interest from now on.
Britishisms: too many to count. Heck, I found myself slipping unintentionally into a vaguely Scottish accent at one point…
Look, one of my suitcases was on its last legs anyway, OK? Yes, I most certainly DID leave room in my bags on the trip out for expected souvenirs.
I just didn’t leave nearly enough. Even with another bag it was a tight squeeze.
The American Contingent spent yet more time with the newlyweds. Notably, six of us went to the Scotch Malt Whiskey Society.
The SMWS is not a normal bar, nor do they even have a normal selection of whiskey. All the bottles behind the bar are the same shape, color, and have labels in the same pattern. The labels do not bear the names of distilleries, they bear numbers. And almost every one of them contains cask-strength single malt Scotch.
Cask strength means that the whiskey has not been cut with water (a normal step in the bottling process) after it is taken from the cask it was aged in. Thus while normal whiskey is ~80 proof, cask strength is ~120 proof.
I had assumed that something with that high an alcohol content would overwhelm the flavor. Laphroaig had already corrected that impression.
The SMWS showed me what I’d been missing. Cask strength not only gives fuller flavors, it makes it easier to pick out the subtle flavors one often sees listed on the better grade of whiskey. I suppose a connoisseur might find this like hitting a tack nail with a sledgehammer, but I do not have that refined or trained a palate. Four of us were drinking, and each of us ordered three drams, with much exchanging of tastes.
You might wonder how we decided what to order, there being only numbers to order by. Well, each number has a description. Not a sentence or two on the side of a bottle, a long paragraph of whimsical text which is as likely to note a hint of gasoline, or advise you to call to mind a Christmas dinner, as it is to mention a ginger finish. Names are applied, but no boring distillery name – “An enticement of sweet oak.” “Heather honey and burnt toast.” “Doctors’ surgeries and flower shops.” Drams are placed in one of 11 categories based on cost. This range from ~$7.50 for a Green Dram to about $50 for a White Dram, not forgetting the Copper Dram (which is more than the Gold Dram) or the Tartan Dram. I think whoever made the list had a few too many drams in their system at the time.
Sadly, they were out of “Below the Decks of the HMS Britannia.”
They do tell you the region (Speyside, Islay, etc.), the cask type, and so forth, in addition to the more entertaining elements of the description. For that matter, crowdsourcing has provided an app which you can use to look up the distillery, as part of the number is keyed that way. Without this aid I still managed to order three delicious drams, and I don’t think anyone got one they didn’t like.
I shall be exploring cask strength whiskeys with great interest from now on.
Friday, May 10, 2013
Scotland Day 9
Stirling Castle is in Stirling, and of course Edinburgh Castle is in Edinburgh. No surprises.
Stirling, however, would be at most a medium-sized town in the US. Edinburgh, while not huge, is a real city.
So the effect of a castle sitting on a volcanic plug in what is, basically, the middle of the city is more than slightly odd to American eyes.
Stirling would be a challenge to take, especially pre-gunpowder. I don’t think I’d want to attempt Edinburgh without modern weapons, preferably including heavy artillery. Helicopters flying a NOE approach would be subject to plunging fire from three of the sides.
I almost suffered a casualty on the approach myself – the wind took my hat off and nearly blew it away (and ‘away’ would have been over the edge of a fifty-plus foot drop). Even men in armor would find wind like that a complicating factor in an attack, and apparently it was not an abnormally windy day.
The castle, however, as legend tells it, was taken via a secret passage by thirty brave Scottish warriors who stormed the place and slaughtered the garrison. Modern historians have gently suggested there were probably more like 600 of them, while stipulating all the other aspects. The Scots are known to exaggerate just a wee bit from time to time.
The hill has been fortified since Roman times, though exactly when the first sections of the present structure were built are, once again, unknown.
The castle is home to two notable pieces of artillery. One is Mons Meg (I’m sure Google will provide pictures and history). I will note that one can, and I did, insert one’s head and shoulders fully into the muzzle. That is a Really Big Gun. The second piece of note is even more powerful, though less impressive on the surface and not at all SCA period: a modern 105mm howitzer. This one is still used – six days a week at 1PM it is fired as a time gun. The day it isn’t fired is Sunday. Guess which day I managed to visit?
Edinburgh is on the southern shore of an ocean inlet of the North Sea. One can fairly easily see the north shore from the castle. The tour guides are apparently asked if it is Norway (unreasonable but at least demonstrating some knowledge of geography), France (sigh), and the United States (perhaps someone who visited the Scotch Whiskey Experience on the way up to the castle).
The castle also has a very old, and very small chapel that is still used as such. When I say ‘very small’ in this case I mean that my living/dining room at home is about the same size. You can nearly stretch out your arms and touch two opposing walls on the short axis. Another thing you don’t really get from books or pictures.
Not to be outdone by Stirling, Edinburgh Castle has FIVE giftshops. Admittedly this includes several for separate museums inside the structure. One of these is for the crown jewels of Scotland: the crown, the scepter, the sword, and the Really Big Rock. Technically that last is the Stone of Destiny… but you can’t help looking at this thing and thinking “Really Big Rock.” It is not planed, or some beautiful piece of marble, or in some mystic shape. It is a really big, vaguely rectangular prism, of… rock. It is also the only piece that is still in use – the King/Queen of England is also the King/Queen of Scotland, and the Stone is used in coronations to represent this fact; the monarch sits on a throne with the Stone underneath (in older days the kings of Scotland sat on it directly). It does not look like a comfortable rock, either. This means that part of the coronation planning includes a trip by a heavily armed convoy from Edinburgh to London carrying… a really big rock. The crown, scepter, and sword remain in Edinburgh.
I am of the opinion that this represents relations between Scotland and England very well indeed. “Yes, fine, you rule us, as a reward you may sit on our rock.”
Speaking of the Scotch Whiskey Experience while I did not get the tour I did stop in at their bar. Their bar has approximately 300 (an estimate, not an exaggeration) different whiskeys available (almost all Scotch). Just as an example, six different Auchentoshans, and six different Balvenies. They also have a nice chart which groups the various single malts by flavor. Find your favorite around the edge, push a button to turn its light on, and then see what’s nearby. I’ve already used this (sadly non-interactive in picture format) as a reference back here at home.
A bunch of the wedding guests joined the bride and groom for a tour of Mary King’s Close. A close is a medieval name for a narrow street (a narrow alley, in modern scale). Parts of this one and some of the surviving buildings are now three stories underground. It is done up as a piece of living history – the sort that doesn’t get into the history books. Our guide was a foul clanger (phonetic spelling, there); someone who was paid by the city to interact with plague victims while they lasted. I would have preferred a different choice of ambiance, or if they’d picked a single century and stuck to it, but once again walking through medieval rooms is an invaluable experience for a SCAdian. Some of the discussion of how the plague was dealt with I want to double check, but if correct is a nice bit of period knowledge.
We also joined the newlyweds for dinner, where I once again fooled someone into thinking I was current or ex-military without meaning to. This time it was a retired US Army colonel (surgeon, but still an O-6). I might have a future as a con artist if this ability of mine wasn’t completely unintentional. Also at this dinner I had haggis. I am told it was good haggis. If so I never want to have bad haggis, though I’d be willing to have good haggis again.
I don’t know – sushi, haggis, beer… I think I need to give up my standing conceptions about food. Yeah, the sushi thing happened a while ago (right after moving to Washington). It was still a major alteration in my standing list of likes and dislikes.
Stirling, however, would be at most a medium-sized town in the US. Edinburgh, while not huge, is a real city.
So the effect of a castle sitting on a volcanic plug in what is, basically, the middle of the city is more than slightly odd to American eyes.
Stirling would be a challenge to take, especially pre-gunpowder. I don’t think I’d want to attempt Edinburgh without modern weapons, preferably including heavy artillery. Helicopters flying a NOE approach would be subject to plunging fire from three of the sides.
I almost suffered a casualty on the approach myself – the wind took my hat off and nearly blew it away (and ‘away’ would have been over the edge of a fifty-plus foot drop). Even men in armor would find wind like that a complicating factor in an attack, and apparently it was not an abnormally windy day.
The castle, however, as legend tells it, was taken via a secret passage by thirty brave Scottish warriors who stormed the place and slaughtered the garrison. Modern historians have gently suggested there were probably more like 600 of them, while stipulating all the other aspects. The Scots are known to exaggerate just a wee bit from time to time.
The hill has been fortified since Roman times, though exactly when the first sections of the present structure were built are, once again, unknown.
The castle is home to two notable pieces of artillery. One is Mons Meg (I’m sure Google will provide pictures and history). I will note that one can, and I did, insert one’s head and shoulders fully into the muzzle. That is a Really Big Gun. The second piece of note is even more powerful, though less impressive on the surface and not at all SCA period: a modern 105mm howitzer. This one is still used – six days a week at 1PM it is fired as a time gun. The day it isn’t fired is Sunday. Guess which day I managed to visit?
Edinburgh is on the southern shore of an ocean inlet of the North Sea. One can fairly easily see the north shore from the castle. The tour guides are apparently asked if it is Norway (unreasonable but at least demonstrating some knowledge of geography), France (sigh), and the United States (perhaps someone who visited the Scotch Whiskey Experience on the way up to the castle).
The castle also has a very old, and very small chapel that is still used as such. When I say ‘very small’ in this case I mean that my living/dining room at home is about the same size. You can nearly stretch out your arms and touch two opposing walls on the short axis. Another thing you don’t really get from books or pictures.
Not to be outdone by Stirling, Edinburgh Castle has FIVE giftshops. Admittedly this includes several for separate museums inside the structure. One of these is for the crown jewels of Scotland: the crown, the scepter, the sword, and the Really Big Rock. Technically that last is the Stone of Destiny… but you can’t help looking at this thing and thinking “Really Big Rock.” It is not planed, or some beautiful piece of marble, or in some mystic shape. It is a really big, vaguely rectangular prism, of… rock. It is also the only piece that is still in use – the King/Queen of England is also the King/Queen of Scotland, and the Stone is used in coronations to represent this fact; the monarch sits on a throne with the Stone underneath (in older days the kings of Scotland sat on it directly). It does not look like a comfortable rock, either. This means that part of the coronation planning includes a trip by a heavily armed convoy from Edinburgh to London carrying… a really big rock. The crown, scepter, and sword remain in Edinburgh.
I am of the opinion that this represents relations between Scotland and England very well indeed. “Yes, fine, you rule us, as a reward you may sit on our rock.”
Speaking of the Scotch Whiskey Experience while I did not get the tour I did stop in at their bar. Their bar has approximately 300 (an estimate, not an exaggeration) different whiskeys available (almost all Scotch). Just as an example, six different Auchentoshans, and six different Balvenies. They also have a nice chart which groups the various single malts by flavor. Find your favorite around the edge, push a button to turn its light on, and then see what’s nearby. I’ve already used this (sadly non-interactive in picture format) as a reference back here at home.
A bunch of the wedding guests joined the bride and groom for a tour of Mary King’s Close. A close is a medieval name for a narrow street (a narrow alley, in modern scale). Parts of this one and some of the surviving buildings are now three stories underground. It is done up as a piece of living history – the sort that doesn’t get into the history books. Our guide was a foul clanger (phonetic spelling, there); someone who was paid by the city to interact with plague victims while they lasted. I would have preferred a different choice of ambiance, or if they’d picked a single century and stuck to it, but once again walking through medieval rooms is an invaluable experience for a SCAdian. Some of the discussion of how the plague was dealt with I want to double check, but if correct is a nice bit of period knowledge.
We also joined the newlyweds for dinner, where I once again fooled someone into thinking I was current or ex-military without meaning to. This time it was a retired US Army colonel (surgeon, but still an O-6). I might have a future as a con artist if this ability of mine wasn’t completely unintentional. Also at this dinner I had haggis. I am told it was good haggis. If so I never want to have bad haggis, though I’d be willing to have good haggis again.
I don’t know – sushi, haggis, beer… I think I need to give up my standing conceptions about food. Yeah, the sushi thing happened a while ago (right after moving to Washington). It was still a major alteration in my standing list of likes and dislikes.
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
Scotland Day 8
Britishism of the day: “wee one” instead of “little one” or “baby.”
Before going to Scotland I asked a number of people if they wanted anything. One of the requests was a shirt from the Edinburgh Harley-Davidson dealer.
I have thought about learning to ride a motorcycle but have never actually been on one. So visiting a motorcycle dealer in another country was a little odd. Aside from the fact that it said “Edinburgh” on the signs and that prices were in pounds the dealership would have looked completely unremarkable in the US. Corporate branding at work, I suppose.
Mostly, however, today was about the wedding. You know, the official reason I went to Scotland?
The ceremony itself was brief and a purely civil function. It included what must have been the fourth or fifth time I’ve heard an excerpt from “The Velveteen Rabbit” at a wedding. This was not, so far as I know, an idea stolen from anyone else’s wedding – it has now appeared in just about every circle of friends I had in college but I don’t think it has done so in this circle before. I have never attended a purely civil ceremony in the US, but I was rather surprised to hear the bride and groom asked for their addresses by the officiate.
I wore my standard sport-coat, tie (MacGill tartan), white shirt, and khaki pants. I also wore a MacGill cummerbund for a little flair.
The bride did not wear pants. Neither did the groom.
Yes, he was wearing a kilt. In fact quite a few of the men there (including all of the wedding party) were wearing kilts.
The reception was very nice. Each table was a book rather than a number – the Aeneid, to pick a non-random example, rather than, say ‘table 3’. Each person’s place was then marked with a bookmark. I’m not sure to what extent books were matched to people – the Aeneid is certainly appropriate enough for me, of course.
The food was tasty, the speeches humorous and sometimes touching, and the wine and sparkly stuff were plentiful.
But the really fun part was the dancing.
The SCA rears its head again – the traditional Scottish dances have very clear ancestry in SCA-period English ‘country dances’. Dancing is a group affair with your partner typically only slightly more important than the other members of your set (anywhere from six to twenty or more people). Steps are simple, and it is apparently customary these days for a professional caller to demonstrate each dance and call sometimes call the motions for the first set. This last means that everyone can enjoy the dancing without prior knowledge while still actually, you know, DANCING. Thanks in no small part to several SCA dance classes this Yank with two left feet managed to swing his partners all over the floor without stepping on anyone’s feet. This was difficult at times – especially since one of my sets included a girl who looked to be about three.
Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer ‘real’ dancing to the modern ‘stand in one spot and move your hips and arms a bit’. I don’t know about other’s preferences, but just about everyone there danced at least once and it seemed to me that a good time was had by all.
Sadly, there were no bagpipes at the reception. I did feel a little cheated on that point, but there was a street piper playing outside the hall where the ceremony was held.
After the reception my bus-fu failed me and I wound up walking about two-thirds of the way back to the apartment. Walking in any urban area near midnight is not exactly on my lists of preferred activities, doubly so since in accordance with UK law I was not carrying even my knife. Yes, the UK has tighter regulations on knives than even ‘blue’ states in the US have on firearms. Take a look at their crime stats (especially the projected ones to cover unreported robberies and such) sometime and you will understand why my misreading of the bus map wound up causing me to have some nervous moments.
Edinburgh, however, while certainly not a city that never sleeps, is a city that walks. This means that the busy spaces do create mob safety zones, which luckily turned out to be most of my route. Still, I do not recommend others follow in my footsteps on this one.
Before going to Scotland I asked a number of people if they wanted anything. One of the requests was a shirt from the Edinburgh Harley-Davidson dealer.
I have thought about learning to ride a motorcycle but have never actually been on one. So visiting a motorcycle dealer in another country was a little odd. Aside from the fact that it said “Edinburgh” on the signs and that prices were in pounds the dealership would have looked completely unremarkable in the US. Corporate branding at work, I suppose.
Mostly, however, today was about the wedding. You know, the official reason I went to Scotland?
The ceremony itself was brief and a purely civil function. It included what must have been the fourth or fifth time I’ve heard an excerpt from “The Velveteen Rabbit” at a wedding. This was not, so far as I know, an idea stolen from anyone else’s wedding – it has now appeared in just about every circle of friends I had in college but I don’t think it has done so in this circle before. I have never attended a purely civil ceremony in the US, but I was rather surprised to hear the bride and groom asked for their addresses by the officiate.
I wore my standard sport-coat, tie (MacGill tartan), white shirt, and khaki pants. I also wore a MacGill cummerbund for a little flair.
The bride did not wear pants. Neither did the groom.
Yes, he was wearing a kilt. In fact quite a few of the men there (including all of the wedding party) were wearing kilts.
The reception was very nice. Each table was a book rather than a number – the Aeneid, to pick a non-random example, rather than, say ‘table 3’. Each person’s place was then marked with a bookmark. I’m not sure to what extent books were matched to people – the Aeneid is certainly appropriate enough for me, of course.
The food was tasty, the speeches humorous and sometimes touching, and the wine and sparkly stuff were plentiful.
But the really fun part was the dancing.
The SCA rears its head again – the traditional Scottish dances have very clear ancestry in SCA-period English ‘country dances’. Dancing is a group affair with your partner typically only slightly more important than the other members of your set (anywhere from six to twenty or more people). Steps are simple, and it is apparently customary these days for a professional caller to demonstrate each dance and call sometimes call the motions for the first set. This last means that everyone can enjoy the dancing without prior knowledge while still actually, you know, DANCING. Thanks in no small part to several SCA dance classes this Yank with two left feet managed to swing his partners all over the floor without stepping on anyone’s feet. This was difficult at times – especially since one of my sets included a girl who looked to be about three.
Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer ‘real’ dancing to the modern ‘stand in one spot and move your hips and arms a bit’. I don’t know about other’s preferences, but just about everyone there danced at least once and it seemed to me that a good time was had by all.
Sadly, there were no bagpipes at the reception. I did feel a little cheated on that point, but there was a street piper playing outside the hall where the ceremony was held.
After the reception my bus-fu failed me and I wound up walking about two-thirds of the way back to the apartment. Walking in any urban area near midnight is not exactly on my lists of preferred activities, doubly so since in accordance with UK law I was not carrying even my knife. Yes, the UK has tighter regulations on knives than even ‘blue’ states in the US have on firearms. Take a look at their crime stats (especially the projected ones to cover unreported robberies and such) sometime and you will understand why my misreading of the bus map wound up causing me to have some nervous moments.
Edinburgh, however, while certainly not a city that never sleeps, is a city that walks. This means that the busy spaces do create mob safety zones, which luckily turned out to be most of my route. Still, I do not recommend others follow in my footsteps on this one.
Saturday, May 4, 2013
Scotland Day 7
American tourist move of the day: “OK, we’ll meet back at the gift shop at [time].” [Time arrives]: “Uh… we didn’t say WHICH gift shop, did we…”
What is it about major Scottish tourist attractions and multiple gift shops? A castle, of course, has challenges if you want to use existing structure, but why on earth does the National Museum need four? OK, one of those was dedicated to a special exhibit on the Vikings. Fine. Why does it need three for day-to-day operations?
OK, that was my gripe about the National Museum. Now I’m going to rave.
Many museums (not enough, IMO, but many) have coins on display. Rarely they will be displayed in such a way that one can look at both the obverse and reverse. To date, however, I’d always seen coins displayed as individual items, usually far removed in time or place from other coins on display. This is very frustrating to collectors and moneyers, as we want to know what sorts of features of coins from a specific place and time were common or uncommon, not just whether they were present on one coin (useful as that admittedly is). It also gives a sense of coins being isolated artifacts, not common items of day-to-day use.
The Scottish National Museum has a horde of Roman coins on display. In a big pile. A big, gorgeous pile of silver, mostly in good shape. I wanted to run my fingers through it. I wanted to count and catalog it. I was more tempted than ever in my life to hire Remington Steel or Neal Caffrey to steal it. Shiny… hang on, need to wipe the drool off. That’s better. So. The Romans gave a bribe to a Scottish clan chief, who put it in a savings account (a clay pot in a hole in the ground). For some reason it remained there for centuries. I estimate on the order of 1,000 coins, more likely a lot more than that. There are clearly multiple mintings present, and varied levels of wear, though from what I could see all the coins were Roman denarii. This is fascinating on several levels. One, it gives a sense for how currency was regarded. The Romans could have provided an equal value of gold coins in a much smaller package, but didn’t. Nor was this a single minting or part of one that was delivered from the mint for this purpose – clearly it was assembled near to its destination from what was available. The scale is also interesting; we know a little about how Roman pay levels were, so we can say with some confidence what modern equivalents would be. Imaging bribing someone with stacks of $20 bills – not brand new notes in Federal Reserve wrappers, but an assortment of bills in varying states of wear with a couple of different bank wrappers. It gives a shape and context to the bribe – not some huge ceremonial event. More like a regular payment to a local warlord.
Almost as an aside, they also have a much smaller horde of Norse coins. This includes some trade silver coins from the Mideast (distinct Arabic writing) mixed with local mintings (runes and faces). I’d probably gush about this if I hadn’t still been recovering from the awe of the Roman horde when I saw this one. FYI, the Norse horde was a regular exhibit, not part of the special Viking exhibit. This is still an impressive and telling piece of history, mind you, it just lacks the scale and personal interest to me of the Roman horde.
The temporary Viking exhibit was a nice one. They took some pains to emphasize the regular elements of daily life in the various Norse countries and to educate people of all interest and knowledge levels. Thank to the SCA (I’ve often said that at night in An Tir everyone has a Norse persona) I know quite a bit about the Northmen, but I still learned more. They also, of course, thoroughly dismissed the myth of the horned helmets… but had them in the gift shop anyway for children. Oh well.
I could easily have spent multiple days in the museum with great pleasure. I could have spent a day or two just in the Roman section, for that matter! I barely scratched the surface of the bulk of the museum, but if the rest of their exhibits and artifacts are up to the standards of what I saw I would say this is a must-see for ANYONE visiting Scotland.
Whether you like Roman coins or not. I did mention those, right?
What is it about major Scottish tourist attractions and multiple gift shops? A castle, of course, has challenges if you want to use existing structure, but why on earth does the National Museum need four? OK, one of those was dedicated to a special exhibit on the Vikings. Fine. Why does it need three for day-to-day operations?
OK, that was my gripe about the National Museum. Now I’m going to rave.
Many museums (not enough, IMO, but many) have coins on display. Rarely they will be displayed in such a way that one can look at both the obverse and reverse. To date, however, I’d always seen coins displayed as individual items, usually far removed in time or place from other coins on display. This is very frustrating to collectors and moneyers, as we want to know what sorts of features of coins from a specific place and time were common or uncommon, not just whether they were present on one coin (useful as that admittedly is). It also gives a sense of coins being isolated artifacts, not common items of day-to-day use.
The Scottish National Museum has a horde of Roman coins on display. In a big pile. A big, gorgeous pile of silver, mostly in good shape. I wanted to run my fingers through it. I wanted to count and catalog it. I was more tempted than ever in my life to hire Remington Steel or Neal Caffrey to steal it. Shiny… hang on, need to wipe the drool off. That’s better. So. The Romans gave a bribe to a Scottish clan chief, who put it in a savings account (a clay pot in a hole in the ground). For some reason it remained there for centuries. I estimate on the order of 1,000 coins, more likely a lot more than that. There are clearly multiple mintings present, and varied levels of wear, though from what I could see all the coins were Roman denarii. This is fascinating on several levels. One, it gives a sense for how currency was regarded. The Romans could have provided an equal value of gold coins in a much smaller package, but didn’t. Nor was this a single minting or part of one that was delivered from the mint for this purpose – clearly it was assembled near to its destination from what was available. The scale is also interesting; we know a little about how Roman pay levels were, so we can say with some confidence what modern equivalents would be. Imaging bribing someone with stacks of $20 bills – not brand new notes in Federal Reserve wrappers, but an assortment of bills in varying states of wear with a couple of different bank wrappers. It gives a shape and context to the bribe – not some huge ceremonial event. More like a regular payment to a local warlord.
Almost as an aside, they also have a much smaller horde of Norse coins. This includes some trade silver coins from the Mideast (distinct Arabic writing) mixed with local mintings (runes and faces). I’d probably gush about this if I hadn’t still been recovering from the awe of the Roman horde when I saw this one. FYI, the Norse horde was a regular exhibit, not part of the special Viking exhibit. This is still an impressive and telling piece of history, mind you, it just lacks the scale and personal interest to me of the Roman horde.
The temporary Viking exhibit was a nice one. They took some pains to emphasize the regular elements of daily life in the various Norse countries and to educate people of all interest and knowledge levels. Thank to the SCA (I’ve often said that at night in An Tir everyone has a Norse persona) I know quite a bit about the Northmen, but I still learned more. They also, of course, thoroughly dismissed the myth of the horned helmets… but had them in the gift shop anyway for children. Oh well.
I could easily have spent multiple days in the museum with great pleasure. I could have spent a day or two just in the Roman section, for that matter! I barely scratched the surface of the bulk of the museum, but if the rest of their exhibits and artifacts are up to the standards of what I saw I would say this is a must-see for ANYONE visiting Scotland.
Whether you like Roman coins or not. I did mention those, right?
Friday, May 3, 2013
Scotland Day 6
Today was heavily a much-needed breather. I did get in some souvenir shopping along the Royal Mile. I also tasted some very fine whiskey. Bunnahabhain (18 y/o) is an interesting one - early on I got a nice licorice flavor, but some of the later sips were nicely sweet. I also found a place that had a low price for a tasting of Balvenie Portwood (a 21 y/o) which I really need to get a bottle of someday when I’m feeling rich or especially celebratory. The Royal Mile stretches from Edinburgh Castle (which is right in the middle of the city) down to another castle which is used as a royal residence. It caters heavily to the tourist trade, and along it are other tourist spots like Edinburgh Cathedral, the Mary King’s Close tour (more later), and so on. Every other building is a souvenir stand, a kiltmaker, or does whiskey tasting.
At one of the kilt makers I was able to confirm something I’d begun to suspect: there is only one company that makes mass-produced Clan badges and kilt pins, and they don’t make MacGill (the clan badge I like the most of the ones I’m entitled to). The tartan is available so a kilt is still a possibility, but a badge will need to be custom made. Sigh. In fact, the availability of clan merchandise was inversely proportional to my interest in the clans: MacGill all but unheard of, Carnegie spotted occasionally, and Irwin far from universal but findable. A clan like Campbell, for contrast (we had a Campbell as one of the other wedding attendees from the US, one of five of us who shared an apartment while in Edinburgh) was everywhere. So, somewhat distressingly to my SCA-trained instincts, was the Stuart Royal tartan – to my mind that should be worn only by those of royal blood.
I will note at this point that I made use of the English obsession with tea which has clearly filtered north to Scotland. I’m used to a coffee pot in hotels in the US, of course, but to have both a modern induction boiler and a coffeemaker AND two conventional teapots in the apartment was something of a surprise. In Edinburgh, thus, it was no trouble to boil all the water I drank. This precaution may have been unnecessary, of course, but since in restaurants when you asked for water they generally responded with “still or sparkling?” both referring to bottled water, I don’t think this was paranoia.
I often complain about the US government and its regulations, but it is nice to be able to drink tap water without fear or ill-taste in most of the US. At this point due to handy features on my fridge most of the water I drink IS filtered, but most of the restaurant water, for example, isn’t, and I can’t recall being offered bottled water in a restaurant outside of DC. The fact that DC is the city run most directly by the Feds is, I think, a significant point.
At one of the kilt makers I was able to confirm something I’d begun to suspect: there is only one company that makes mass-produced Clan badges and kilt pins, and they don’t make MacGill (the clan badge I like the most of the ones I’m entitled to). The tartan is available so a kilt is still a possibility, but a badge will need to be custom made. Sigh. In fact, the availability of clan merchandise was inversely proportional to my interest in the clans: MacGill all but unheard of, Carnegie spotted occasionally, and Irwin far from universal but findable. A clan like Campbell, for contrast (we had a Campbell as one of the other wedding attendees from the US, one of five of us who shared an apartment while in Edinburgh) was everywhere. So, somewhat distressingly to my SCA-trained instincts, was the Stuart Royal tartan – to my mind that should be worn only by those of royal blood.
I will note at this point that I made use of the English obsession with tea which has clearly filtered north to Scotland. I’m used to a coffee pot in hotels in the US, of course, but to have both a modern induction boiler and a coffeemaker AND two conventional teapots in the apartment was something of a surprise. In Edinburgh, thus, it was no trouble to boil all the water I drank. This precaution may have been unnecessary, of course, but since in restaurants when you asked for water they generally responded with “still or sparkling?” both referring to bottled water, I don’t think this was paranoia.
I often complain about the US government and its regulations, but it is nice to be able to drink tap water without fear or ill-taste in most of the US. At this point due to handy features on my fridge most of the water I drink IS filtered, but most of the restaurant water, for example, isn’t, and I can’t recall being offered bottled water in a restaurant outside of DC. The fact that DC is the city run most directly by the Feds is, I think, a significant point.
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Scotland Day 5
American tourist move of the day: expecting the taxi driver to know where the apartment complex was (OK, he did, but it took a map to jog his memory – in my defense, I had made sure I HAD the map).
The morning was largely taken up by the return to Glasgow. Sixty miles without knowing the base speed limit for sure was a little easier the second time, but not much.
In Glasgow there were two targets of opportunity: St. Mungo’s religious museum, and Lordship House, a medieval house still standing as a museum.
St. Mungo’s was a disappointment, one of the few in all of Scotland. While there were some interesting artifacts it was clear that political correctness was the order of the day. The most egregious example was a room supposedly dedicated to the history of religion in Scotland. Seven religions were mentioned (Christianity, Islam, Judaism, Hindi, Sikh, and two others I forget)… and given almost painfully even weight. Paganism, which ought to have been at least mentioned as a precursor, was not mentioned at all. One of the notable artifacts was oddly nonreligious: a turnshoe; the same sort of shoe I’ve made as an SCA project.
Lordship House also could have been better, but at least gave a good feel of a medieval residence (upper class, of course, but still useful), including a room with reproduction furnishings and fittings. Just walking through the house was a valuable experience for the development of my SCA persona.
In the afternoon, the time came to shift base to Edinburgh, where the wedding that was the official reason for this trip (and also the driver for its timing) was being held. I chose to do this by train.
I’ve ridden thousands of miles on trains in the US, including commuter rail, tourist, railfan special events, and of course Amtrak, but I’ve never been on a train outside the US. It was no surprise that Scotrail had features that were completely familiar. It was only a little bit of a surprise that they had their own unique imprint.
First off, it really brings home the scale of things. Glasgow is on the west coast of Scotland (admittedly via a notable bay) and Edinburgh is on the east coast. The trip between them took well under two hours, including a number of stops. A similar crossing in the US takes three days. To FLY coast to coast in the US takes longer than to do the trip by rail in Scotland. Nor is the corridor between them as urbanized as, say, the US Northeast Corridor (Boston to DC, give or take). Train service, however, is comparable – fast, regular trips (weekday departures were every hour or so).
Regular seating, however, is similar to ‘club car’ style or seated 1st class in the US. This is an odd contrast with commuter-rail style mid-car exits (no vestibules). Appropriate enough for what would be, in the US, a commuter rail service rather than the long-haul routes that Amtrak generally runs.
The service was on time, a smooth ride, and generally comfortable. I saw freight traffic only once which would have been an odd scarcity on a US long-haul route or even most commuter rail nets. Based on track layout and such I’m guessing that was probably typical for the Glasgow/Edinburgh route.
Scottish Taxis appear to be a distinct breed. This day was my second trip in one (two trips later on were much the same). The frame is that of a large car or small SUV, but the passenger area has a flat floor between a forward facing bench and a set of fold-down aft facing seats. The flat space looks big enough for a wheelchair, and is quite convenient for loading luggage. This style appears even more dominant than the Ford Crown Vic in the US (even before the Prius Revolution). It is an excellent design for the vehicle’s basic function, though I imagine the adrenalin junkie cab drivers in many US cities would find it rather clumsy in comparison to their regular vehicles, especially the ex-police cars which never had their pursuit packages fully removed. I nevertheless believe the design would have merit in the US, especially for airport service and for our increasing mobility-challenged population.
The morning was largely taken up by the return to Glasgow. Sixty miles without knowing the base speed limit for sure was a little easier the second time, but not much.
In Glasgow there were two targets of opportunity: St. Mungo’s religious museum, and Lordship House, a medieval house still standing as a museum.
St. Mungo’s was a disappointment, one of the few in all of Scotland. While there were some interesting artifacts it was clear that political correctness was the order of the day. The most egregious example was a room supposedly dedicated to the history of religion in Scotland. Seven religions were mentioned (Christianity, Islam, Judaism, Hindi, Sikh, and two others I forget)… and given almost painfully even weight. Paganism, which ought to have been at least mentioned as a precursor, was not mentioned at all. One of the notable artifacts was oddly nonreligious: a turnshoe; the same sort of shoe I’ve made as an SCA project.
Lordship House also could have been better, but at least gave a good feel of a medieval residence (upper class, of course, but still useful), including a room with reproduction furnishings and fittings. Just walking through the house was a valuable experience for the development of my SCA persona.
In the afternoon, the time came to shift base to Edinburgh, where the wedding that was the official reason for this trip (and also the driver for its timing) was being held. I chose to do this by train.
I’ve ridden thousands of miles on trains in the US, including commuter rail, tourist, railfan special events, and of course Amtrak, but I’ve never been on a train outside the US. It was no surprise that Scotrail had features that were completely familiar. It was only a little bit of a surprise that they had their own unique imprint.
First off, it really brings home the scale of things. Glasgow is on the west coast of Scotland (admittedly via a notable bay) and Edinburgh is on the east coast. The trip between them took well under two hours, including a number of stops. A similar crossing in the US takes three days. To FLY coast to coast in the US takes longer than to do the trip by rail in Scotland. Nor is the corridor between them as urbanized as, say, the US Northeast Corridor (Boston to DC, give or take). Train service, however, is comparable – fast, regular trips (weekday departures were every hour or so).
Regular seating, however, is similar to ‘club car’ style or seated 1st class in the US. This is an odd contrast with commuter-rail style mid-car exits (no vestibules). Appropriate enough for what would be, in the US, a commuter rail service rather than the long-haul routes that Amtrak generally runs.
The service was on time, a smooth ride, and generally comfortable. I saw freight traffic only once which would have been an odd scarcity on a US long-haul route or even most commuter rail nets. Based on track layout and such I’m guessing that was probably typical for the Glasgow/Edinburgh route.
Scottish Taxis appear to be a distinct breed. This day was my second trip in one (two trips later on were much the same). The frame is that of a large car or small SUV, but the passenger area has a flat floor between a forward facing bench and a set of fold-down aft facing seats. The flat space looks big enough for a wheelchair, and is quite convenient for loading luggage. This style appears even more dominant than the Ford Crown Vic in the US (even before the Prius Revolution). It is an excellent design for the vehicle’s basic function, though I imagine the adrenalin junkie cab drivers in many US cities would find it rather clumsy in comparison to their regular vehicles, especially the ex-police cars which never had their pursuit packages fully removed. I nevertheless believe the design would have merit in the US, especially for airport service and for our increasing mobility-challenged population.
Saturday, April 27, 2013
Scotland Day 4
Scotland is famous for many things. Kilts, Nessie, and bagpipes all get their turns in the spotlight, and deserve their time.
Today, however, we’re going to talk about something Scotland really puts their mark on the world with: whiskey.
It is said that God created beer so the Irish wouldn’t take over the world. If so he created whiskey because beer wasn’t going to be enough to hold back the Scots.
Today I took a long, winding, multi-legged journey to the Isle of Islay (yes, that translates to “the island of island”) mostly in order to take a distillery tour of Laphroaig. Perhaps I should say “The Distillery Tour” or give it its formal (and deserved) name to distinguish it from all lesser tours: The Water to Whiskey Experience.
Now, Islay malts are not my preferred substyle of the Scotch Malt Whiskey family. I mostly go for Speysides and Lowlands. Laphroaig, however, is something of an exception despite or perhaps because they are often considered the most extreme of the Islay malts. Also, loyal readers may remember my discussion of the Highland Games last year, specifically the whiskey tasting I did there. That humorous and educational event was run by Laphroaig, and was the driving force behind my decision to do the tour.
First, however, I had to get to Laphroaig, which meant first getting to Islay. I could have flown. Islay has an airport, and there are regular puddle-jumper flights from Glasgow airport. However while I do not hate British airport security anywhere near as much as the TSA, I’m not fond of them either. Also there was the cost, the need to check a bag coming back just for whiskey, etc. I decided to drive and take the ferry.
In the US, we have this idea that speed limit signs should be large, explicit, and regular. The United Kingdom believes they should be small, numerical only (just “50” not “Speed Limit 50”), and that you only need one per road. Once you’re on the road they will put up a sign if the speed limit drops, but then just have a symbol-only sign that means ‘resume speed’ without telling you what speed you should resume TO. For 60 miles they will do this. Not one single sign to indicate the ‘baseline’ speed appears anywhere.
They also have this thing about narrow roads. Not only are the roads narrow, they have curbs at the edges even when there is no reason for a curb. Put a lorry and a car on a narrow road approaching each other at a combined speed of 100mph and the lack of a margin for error becomes a matter of some concern. I did not hit any other vehicles, but I did kiss the curb a few times, which really gets your heart working when you do it at 50mph.
But I will happily send US engineers over to teach them about speed limit signs and shoulders if they will send a few back here, for there is one thing they do that we really should too: when a traffic light is about to turn green, it first flashes the yellow light once. This gives the stick-shifters time to get in gear, or the driver time to put his drink down, etc.
I arrived at the ferry terminal in good time, however, and the drive was very scenic. Got some shots of sunrise over Loch Lomond, a few more of mountains, valleys, and such. I don’t think it was technically the Highlands but it certainly gave a nice feel. The Irish Sea ferries share some traits with their cousins on Puget Sound but have articulated bows and stern ramps rather than being flat double-enders like the Sound ferries. They also have nicer seating. Oddly passengers are prohibited on the car deck while the ship is at sea (again unlike the Sound ferries). The crossing was smooth and uneventful.
Islay has a total population of some 4,000 and an area of several hundred square miles. With most of the population in two towns it is unsurprising that many of the roads are single lane (not one lane each way, one lane TOTAL) or lane-and-a-half. Stone walls on either side are not uncommon. This can make three cars into a major traffic jam. I’m surprised there is enough traffic between the island and the mainland for merit multiple ferry trips per day, but there demonstrably is (full ferries or close to it both ways).
Laphroaig has a sense of humor. Detailed signs explain to the “Friends of Laphroaig” how to go claim their square foot of land – including a reminder to bring a copy of War and Peace in case cattle are crossing the road and how to signal for a tractor if they need to be winched out of the bog. Laphroaig owns quite a bit of land, including its source water – the first stop on the tour. They served us a picnic lunch (VERY tasty and filling), get us a dram of 10 year old, and let us cut it with the very water used to make it (how often do you get to do that?). Most of us also got another dram for the walk back to the road. The guide then drove us over to the peat bog where they get their peat. Each of us got to cut some peat (I do not have a future as a peat cutter), and we were rewarded with a dram of cask strength… and a bit extra. ;-) If you ever visit a peat bog, have someone a few feet away jump up and down. You will be able to feel their landing through the ground very easily.
After this we got an in-depth tour of the plant, following every step of the process. Malting floor, cooking and smoking, fermenting, etc., etc. We got to taste the ‘beer’ (fermented but not yet distilled) which was the best beer I’ve ever had, and in fact the first I’ve found superior to water. Sadly they do not sell it. We got to throw a hunk of peat on the fire to smoke the malt, and to taste the malt itself at several stages. A few more drams of whiskey were included as well.
The final stop in the tour is a selection of three casks (that day they had a 1998, a 1999, and a two-thousand-something). You taste from each cask, then get to fill a bottle from your favorite to take home. Three single cask, cask strength, aged ten years give or take to choose from – quite the party favor! I will talk more about cask strength later, but I will note that not only is the alcohol stronger, the flavor is as well. It is not overwhelming, however; it is IMO easier to pick out the subtle sub-flavors. I chose the 1999, and was quite pleased to be able to take some home. Luckily they DO sell cask strength in the US, though single cask will be hard to find at best. Speaking of exporting whiskey, did you know Sweden drinks up a huge amount of the total percentage of Scotch that is exported? This despite a population a tiny fraction the size of the US.
From Laphroaig, you can see Ireland on a clear day. Or, as in my case, a clear enough day. This makes Ireland one of the few countries I can say I’ve seen in person but not been to.
Last, but not least, Islay has a very old Celtic stone cross. Surrounded by sheep on this visit - including a ram I had something of a staring contest with.
The journey was not easy, but the tour was more than worth it.
Today, however, we’re going to talk about something Scotland really puts their mark on the world with: whiskey.
It is said that God created beer so the Irish wouldn’t take over the world. If so he created whiskey because beer wasn’t going to be enough to hold back the Scots.
Today I took a long, winding, multi-legged journey to the Isle of Islay (yes, that translates to “the island of island”) mostly in order to take a distillery tour of Laphroaig. Perhaps I should say “The Distillery Tour” or give it its formal (and deserved) name to distinguish it from all lesser tours: The Water to Whiskey Experience.
Now, Islay malts are not my preferred substyle of the Scotch Malt Whiskey family. I mostly go for Speysides and Lowlands. Laphroaig, however, is something of an exception despite or perhaps because they are often considered the most extreme of the Islay malts. Also, loyal readers may remember my discussion of the Highland Games last year, specifically the whiskey tasting I did there. That humorous and educational event was run by Laphroaig, and was the driving force behind my decision to do the tour.
First, however, I had to get to Laphroaig, which meant first getting to Islay. I could have flown. Islay has an airport, and there are regular puddle-jumper flights from Glasgow airport. However while I do not hate British airport security anywhere near as much as the TSA, I’m not fond of them either. Also there was the cost, the need to check a bag coming back just for whiskey, etc. I decided to drive and take the ferry.
In the US, we have this idea that speed limit signs should be large, explicit, and regular. The United Kingdom believes they should be small, numerical only (just “50” not “Speed Limit 50”), and that you only need one per road. Once you’re on the road they will put up a sign if the speed limit drops, but then just have a symbol-only sign that means ‘resume speed’ without telling you what speed you should resume TO. For 60 miles they will do this. Not one single sign to indicate the ‘baseline’ speed appears anywhere.
They also have this thing about narrow roads. Not only are the roads narrow, they have curbs at the edges even when there is no reason for a curb. Put a lorry and a car on a narrow road approaching each other at a combined speed of 100mph and the lack of a margin for error becomes a matter of some concern. I did not hit any other vehicles, but I did kiss the curb a few times, which really gets your heart working when you do it at 50mph.
But I will happily send US engineers over to teach them about speed limit signs and shoulders if they will send a few back here, for there is one thing they do that we really should too: when a traffic light is about to turn green, it first flashes the yellow light once. This gives the stick-shifters time to get in gear, or the driver time to put his drink down, etc.
I arrived at the ferry terminal in good time, however, and the drive was very scenic. Got some shots of sunrise over Loch Lomond, a few more of mountains, valleys, and such. I don’t think it was technically the Highlands but it certainly gave a nice feel. The Irish Sea ferries share some traits with their cousins on Puget Sound but have articulated bows and stern ramps rather than being flat double-enders like the Sound ferries. They also have nicer seating. Oddly passengers are prohibited on the car deck while the ship is at sea (again unlike the Sound ferries). The crossing was smooth and uneventful.
Islay has a total population of some 4,000 and an area of several hundred square miles. With most of the population in two towns it is unsurprising that many of the roads are single lane (not one lane each way, one lane TOTAL) or lane-and-a-half. Stone walls on either side are not uncommon. This can make three cars into a major traffic jam. I’m surprised there is enough traffic between the island and the mainland for merit multiple ferry trips per day, but there demonstrably is (full ferries or close to it both ways).
Laphroaig has a sense of humor. Detailed signs explain to the “Friends of Laphroaig” how to go claim their square foot of land – including a reminder to bring a copy of War and Peace in case cattle are crossing the road and how to signal for a tractor if they need to be winched out of the bog. Laphroaig owns quite a bit of land, including its source water – the first stop on the tour. They served us a picnic lunch (VERY tasty and filling), get us a dram of 10 year old, and let us cut it with the very water used to make it (how often do you get to do that?). Most of us also got another dram for the walk back to the road. The guide then drove us over to the peat bog where they get their peat. Each of us got to cut some peat (I do not have a future as a peat cutter), and we were rewarded with a dram of cask strength… and a bit extra. ;-) If you ever visit a peat bog, have someone a few feet away jump up and down. You will be able to feel their landing through the ground very easily.
After this we got an in-depth tour of the plant, following every step of the process. Malting floor, cooking and smoking, fermenting, etc., etc. We got to taste the ‘beer’ (fermented but not yet distilled) which was the best beer I’ve ever had, and in fact the first I’ve found superior to water. Sadly they do not sell it. We got to throw a hunk of peat on the fire to smoke the malt, and to taste the malt itself at several stages. A few more drams of whiskey were included as well.
The final stop in the tour is a selection of three casks (that day they had a 1998, a 1999, and a two-thousand-something). You taste from each cask, then get to fill a bottle from your favorite to take home. Three single cask, cask strength, aged ten years give or take to choose from – quite the party favor! I will talk more about cask strength later, but I will note that not only is the alcohol stronger, the flavor is as well. It is not overwhelming, however; it is IMO easier to pick out the subtle sub-flavors. I chose the 1999, and was quite pleased to be able to take some home. Luckily they DO sell cask strength in the US, though single cask will be hard to find at best. Speaking of exporting whiskey, did you know Sweden drinks up a huge amount of the total percentage of Scotch that is exported? This despite a population a tiny fraction the size of the US.
From Laphroaig, you can see Ireland on a clear day. Or, as in my case, a clear enough day. This makes Ireland one of the few countries I can say I’ve seen in person but not been to.
Last, but not least, Islay has a very old Celtic stone cross. Surrounded by sheep on this visit - including a ram I had something of a staring contest with.
The journey was not easy, but the tour was more than worth it.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Scotland Day 3
Britishism of the day: Lift vs. elevator
American tourist move of the day: OK, the bus is going west so I should wait on the north side of the street... or not...
Today I managed to get someone else to do the driving by taking a bus tour of Glasgow.
Glasgow is full of buses. Most are the classic double-deckers, including the tour buses which manage to stay reasonably full despite running every half hour during the day. You can hop off at any stop and get back on any later bus, which is a quite nice system. The first bus had a live guide who told amusing stories as well as giving the standard tour spiels, though sadly none of the later buses I picked were so equipped.
Among the stops I took was Glasgow Cathedral, which asks male guests to kindly remove their hats (yes, I did). Glasgow is where I first really grasped the continuity and extent of Scottish history. The place is filled with war memorials in various states of repair and grandeur. WWI and WWII are of course well represented, but so are conflicts such as the Boar War and others that one can barely make out.
As with a castle, being in a cathedral gives you a different sense than looking at a drawing. The numerous subdivisions on the main floor (including an upper area still used as a church and the inevitable gift shop) make the cathedral a different breed from a ‘normal’ church in the US or for that matter elsewhere in Scotland.
The tour also went past Provence Lordship, a medieval house now serving as a small museum which I visited a few days later.
The United Kingdom has a large population of Indians – a legacy of its days of empire. Their food has become a major staple of the local diet, and for good reason in my opinion. Today I enjoyed a very tasty curry along with fresh nan. Chips (French fries in US parlance) are good, but they do not make a meal. Curry and nan and rice do. Overall I was very pleased with the quality and variety of food available in Scotland (even the Haggis, which will be mentioned in its turn). The prices were often on the steep side once one converted to dollars (roughly $1.50 per pound at the time of this visit), but hey, splurging a bit while on vacation doesn’t hurt.
One other local phenomenon is worthy of note. Despite temperatures in the 40’s (Fahrenheit scale), quite a lot of women of all ages wander the streets wearing either short shorts or short skirts over stockings or leggings. While this is not universal, I would not expect that many short skirts on even a warm day in the US. Of course, I’m not objecting…
American tourist move of the day: OK, the bus is going west so I should wait on the north side of the street... or not...
Today I managed to get someone else to do the driving by taking a bus tour of Glasgow.
Glasgow is full of buses. Most are the classic double-deckers, including the tour buses which manage to stay reasonably full despite running every half hour during the day. You can hop off at any stop and get back on any later bus, which is a quite nice system. The first bus had a live guide who told amusing stories as well as giving the standard tour spiels, though sadly none of the later buses I picked were so equipped.
Among the stops I took was Glasgow Cathedral, which asks male guests to kindly remove their hats (yes, I did). Glasgow is where I first really grasped the continuity and extent of Scottish history. The place is filled with war memorials in various states of repair and grandeur. WWI and WWII are of course well represented, but so are conflicts such as the Boar War and others that one can barely make out.
As with a castle, being in a cathedral gives you a different sense than looking at a drawing. The numerous subdivisions on the main floor (including an upper area still used as a church and the inevitable gift shop) make the cathedral a different breed from a ‘normal’ church in the US or for that matter elsewhere in Scotland.
The tour also went past Provence Lordship, a medieval house now serving as a small museum which I visited a few days later.
The United Kingdom has a large population of Indians – a legacy of its days of empire. Their food has become a major staple of the local diet, and for good reason in my opinion. Today I enjoyed a very tasty curry along with fresh nan. Chips (French fries in US parlance) are good, but they do not make a meal. Curry and nan and rice do. Overall I was very pleased with the quality and variety of food available in Scotland (even the Haggis, which will be mentioned in its turn). The prices were often on the steep side once one converted to dollars (roughly $1.50 per pound at the time of this visit), but hey, splurging a bit while on vacation doesn’t hurt.
One other local phenomenon is worthy of note. Despite temperatures in the 40’s (Fahrenheit scale), quite a lot of women of all ages wander the streets wearing either short shorts or short skirts over stockings or leggings. While this is not universal, I would not expect that many short skirts on even a warm day in the US. Of course, I’m not objecting…
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Scotland Day 2
Britishism of the day: roundabout instead of rotary.
American tourist move of the day: None! (That I noticed.)
Today was all about Stirling Castle.
First of all, if you’ve never been in a real, mostly intact castle it is hard to describe. Sure, its on a big hill, stone walls, towers… the elements are easy to describe. But the whole of the thing is more difficult.
Perhaps it is my experience in the SCA, but looking at the thing from ground level I kept thinking “wow, I wouldn’t want to attack that without modern weapons…” which, of course, is the often-forgotten point of a castle. The castle was a deterrent in peacetime and a force multiplier (a huge one) in war. Castles were not static structures (something I knew academically before this but, again, didn’t truly grasp). Buildings and walls get knocked down, replaced, or expanded; sometimes due to violent applications of hostile force, sometimes peacefully. No one is sure when the first castle was built on the site currently occupied by Stirling – nine hundred years ago is when surviving references begin to place events there, but as they refer to things occurring in an established location all we can say for sure about the original construction is ‘before that.’ The castle overlooks a huge sweep of the valley between Glasgow and Edinburgh. The non-functional cannons in its several surviving batteries command the nearby river crossings. Several famous battles have been fought within sight of its walls and the castle itself was besieged more than once.
Most of the castle is bare stone at this point, but one building has been restored (based on forensic archeology) to its original appearance: a yellowish colored plaster smoothes out the stone, making a single bright surface quite at odds with the traditional image of a castle. Some inner areas have been restored or reconstructed also: the kitchens, the great hall, a chapel, and several rooms of the royal residence. Some of this is admitted guesswork; knowing what furniture was present in the royal rooms but not the details of its design, for example.
Stirling was home to a set of tapestries depicting the hunt of a unicorn. This is presented as being a metaphor for the search for Christ. The tapestries are currently being recreated by a team of weavers who’ve been working on them, by hand, for several years. This is an SCA Laurel-quality project on a huge scale; the dyes, the tools, and the thread are all chosen for authenticity. Some of the work is being done on-site, and gives a feel for just what went into the decorations of such a place. We're talking about man-years, not man-hours, (OK, mostly woman-hours if you prefer) as a measurement.
The castle is also home to a regimental museum for the Argyll & Sutherland Highlanders. The British Regimental system is far too complicated to address here, but suffice to say that elements of the regiment fought in most of the major conflicts of the last 200 years – from the Napoleonic Wars to the ‘war on terror.’ Battle flags and regimental silver are interspersed with mementos and stories. My favorite was of three soldiers who were captured in WWII. They escaped from their POW camp and then made their way across Europe by speaking Gaelic and pretending to be Russians. They encountered a number of German translators and passed muster each time, two of them making it back to Britain.
The castle kitchens are another recreated environment, and provide both good atmosphere and details to gladden the eye of any SCAdian; recipes (both in their original form and with modern ‘translations’), details of feasts and purchases, and some exhibits showing how food was presented (at least for the head table).
Stirling begins what will soon become apparent as a trend: multiple gift shops. The castle has no less than four, one dedicated to the regimental museum. None of these are especially large and some merchandise repeats, but they do have distinctly different flavors. Speaking of flavors, Stirling Castle has its own special whiskey, a 12 year old Speyside Single Malt. This also will prove to be a trend.
“Everyone said I was daft to build a castle on top of a giant plug of volcanic rock… well, actually only the builders said that…”
American tourist move of the day: None! (That I noticed.)
Today was all about Stirling Castle.
First of all, if you’ve never been in a real, mostly intact castle it is hard to describe. Sure, its on a big hill, stone walls, towers… the elements are easy to describe. But the whole of the thing is more difficult.
Perhaps it is my experience in the SCA, but looking at the thing from ground level I kept thinking “wow, I wouldn’t want to attack that without modern weapons…” which, of course, is the often-forgotten point of a castle. The castle was a deterrent in peacetime and a force multiplier (a huge one) in war. Castles were not static structures (something I knew academically before this but, again, didn’t truly grasp). Buildings and walls get knocked down, replaced, or expanded; sometimes due to violent applications of hostile force, sometimes peacefully. No one is sure when the first castle was built on the site currently occupied by Stirling – nine hundred years ago is when surviving references begin to place events there, but as they refer to things occurring in an established location all we can say for sure about the original construction is ‘before that.’ The castle overlooks a huge sweep of the valley between Glasgow and Edinburgh. The non-functional cannons in its several surviving batteries command the nearby river crossings. Several famous battles have been fought within sight of its walls and the castle itself was besieged more than once.
Most of the castle is bare stone at this point, but one building has been restored (based on forensic archeology) to its original appearance: a yellowish colored plaster smoothes out the stone, making a single bright surface quite at odds with the traditional image of a castle. Some inner areas have been restored or reconstructed also: the kitchens, the great hall, a chapel, and several rooms of the royal residence. Some of this is admitted guesswork; knowing what furniture was present in the royal rooms but not the details of its design, for example.
Stirling was home to a set of tapestries depicting the hunt of a unicorn. This is presented as being a metaphor for the search for Christ. The tapestries are currently being recreated by a team of weavers who’ve been working on them, by hand, for several years. This is an SCA Laurel-quality project on a huge scale; the dyes, the tools, and the thread are all chosen for authenticity. Some of the work is being done on-site, and gives a feel for just what went into the decorations of such a place. We're talking about man-years, not man-hours, (OK, mostly woman-hours if you prefer) as a measurement.
The castle is also home to a regimental museum for the Argyll & Sutherland Highlanders. The British Regimental system is far too complicated to address here, but suffice to say that elements of the regiment fought in most of the major conflicts of the last 200 years – from the Napoleonic Wars to the ‘war on terror.’ Battle flags and regimental silver are interspersed with mementos and stories. My favorite was of three soldiers who were captured in WWII. They escaped from their POW camp and then made their way across Europe by speaking Gaelic and pretending to be Russians. They encountered a number of German translators and passed muster each time, two of them making it back to Britain.
The castle kitchens are another recreated environment, and provide both good atmosphere and details to gladden the eye of any SCAdian; recipes (both in their original form and with modern ‘translations’), details of feasts and purchases, and some exhibits showing how food was presented (at least for the head table).
Stirling begins what will soon become apparent as a trend: multiple gift shops. The castle has no less than four, one dedicated to the regimental museum. None of these are especially large and some merchandise repeats, but they do have distinctly different flavors. Speaking of flavors, Stirling Castle has its own special whiskey, a 12 year old Speyside Single Malt. This also will prove to be a trend.
“Everyone said I was daft to build a castle on top of a giant plug of volcanic rock… well, actually only the builders said that…”
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Scotland Day 1
You are in a maze of twisty little streets, all different.
Growing up I played the original Zork. Yup, text-only, "kill thief with sword", "It is dark, you might be eaten by a Grue...". One of the challenging parts of the game was mapping the dungeon. The hardest part of mapping was the maze. Each room simply said "You are in a maze of twisty little passages, all alike." Some rooms if you went out, say, the North side you came back into the same room and it didn't even tell you that you were looping. I gave up and cheated - the game included a book of cheats, including a map of the maze. I admit it, I used the map (only of the maze, though). OTHERwise, I beat the game the hard way.
I gave up on Glasgow before I even started. I downloaded a street map to my phone that would allow me to use its GPS to track me around. One way streets in a twisted mess are bad, but surely GPS would trump it? Not so much. The Scots know that silly American tourists come over and expect to be able to navigate with their GPS systems. So they trump them - with randomly dividing streets, and a profusion of no left/right turns signs (plus the odd 'no straight'). One intersection allowed neither a right nor a left turn onto a two-way street! To keep things interesting, either some of the pedestrians are suicidal or they have very good life insurance policies. People cross streets at random and assume cars will stop for them - smack in between two crosswalks, or at one with the 'don't walk' symbol lit. Driving on the left turns out not to be a big deal. Driving at all is the big deal.
After quite a few blocked routes, the odd wrong turn, and nearly killing someone, I did make it to the Barras; a street market held in amongst some antique/curio shops. I had been hoping for more touristy products and less aimed at the locals, but did find a few interesting things. I also picked up some biscuits (semi-sweet cookies, for the uninitiated). Yum. :-)
In the afternoon I once again took steering wheel in hand and braved the maze to visit one of the few remains of the Antonine Wall - the foundations of a Roman bath that was part of the fort at Bearsden. Despite the fact that the Antonine Wall (unlike the more famous and more southerly Hadrian's Wall) was only around for a short time the Romans built typically lasting works. One can still see much of the functional structure (stone ductwork, basically) of the baths. The Romans really knew how to build.
Growing up I played the original Zork. Yup, text-only, "kill thief with sword", "It is dark, you might be eaten by a Grue...". One of the challenging parts of the game was mapping the dungeon. The hardest part of mapping was the maze. Each room simply said "You are in a maze of twisty little passages, all alike." Some rooms if you went out, say, the North side you came back into the same room and it didn't even tell you that you were looping. I gave up and cheated - the game included a book of cheats, including a map of the maze. I admit it, I used the map (only of the maze, though). OTHERwise, I beat the game the hard way.
I gave up on Glasgow before I even started. I downloaded a street map to my phone that would allow me to use its GPS to track me around. One way streets in a twisted mess are bad, but surely GPS would trump it? Not so much. The Scots know that silly American tourists come over and expect to be able to navigate with their GPS systems. So they trump them - with randomly dividing streets, and a profusion of no left/right turns signs (plus the odd 'no straight'). One intersection allowed neither a right nor a left turn onto a two-way street! To keep things interesting, either some of the pedestrians are suicidal or they have very good life insurance policies. People cross streets at random and assume cars will stop for them - smack in between two crosswalks, or at one with the 'don't walk' symbol lit. Driving on the left turns out not to be a big deal. Driving at all is the big deal.
After quite a few blocked routes, the odd wrong turn, and nearly killing someone, I did make it to the Barras; a street market held in amongst some antique/curio shops. I had been hoping for more touristy products and less aimed at the locals, but did find a few interesting things. I also picked up some biscuits (semi-sweet cookies, for the uninitiated). Yum. :-)
In the afternoon I once again took steering wheel in hand and braved the maze to visit one of the few remains of the Antonine Wall - the foundations of a Roman bath that was part of the fort at Bearsden. Despite the fact that the Antonine Wall (unlike the more famous and more southerly Hadrian's Wall) was only around for a short time the Romans built typically lasting works. One can still see much of the functional structure (stone ductwork, basically) of the baths. The Romans really knew how to build.
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Scotland, Day 0
So, I just returned from a week and a half in Scotland. This was my first international trip (barring visits to Canada) since high school, and of course since 9/11 made all air travel more complicated.
In short, it was a blast. I long... there will be a bunch of posts forthcoming. :-)
Anyway, Scotland Day 0:
Unintentional Britishism of the day: 'join the queue' instead of 'line up.'
American Tourist (tm) move of the day: pushing "1" in the elevator and expecting to go to the ground floor.
The outbound flight was somewhat problematic - the plane was delayed six hours due to mechanical problems in Britain. British Airways did give us each a $19 (why $19 instead of a nice round $20?) coupon for airport food. Once we got on board things were nicer. The first leg was direct to Heathrow (London's primary airport) on a 747-400. In seat In Flight Entertainment included a selection of free movies (watched "Up" for the first time) and a 'where am I' flight tracking program that first thought we were going to Iceland then, about the time we went feet-dry over Scotland, thought we were going back to Seattle. Still, the food was tasty (dinner and breakfast) and BA includes liquor without additional charge. US airlines, please take note - OK, not of the delay, but of everything else.
Heathrow is a warren reminiscent of a RoboRalley mapboard. Just figuring out the right line to get in was more than mildly challenging at times.
British Customs wasn't satisfied to know that I was an engineer. They wanted to know what kind of engineer I was.
Through customs, I had to go through security again before getting on the hop to Glasgow. Perhaps I should have parachuted out when we flew over on the way to Heathrow. I can't really fault the Brits for putting people through security again; I don't trust the TSA to screen adequately, why should they?
Arrived at the hotel safely, and found a wrinkle I'd never encountered before. You have to insert your keycard into a card reader next to the main light switch and leave it there in order to operate anything requiring electrons in the room. I expect, given the general trend of other equipment in the room, this is intended as a power-saving measure since it means you WILL turn out the lights and such when you leave the room.
In short, it was a blast. I long... there will be a bunch of posts forthcoming. :-)
Anyway, Scotland Day 0:
Unintentional Britishism of the day: 'join the queue' instead of 'line up.'
American Tourist (tm) move of the day: pushing "1" in the elevator and expecting to go to the ground floor.
The outbound flight was somewhat problematic - the plane was delayed six hours due to mechanical problems in Britain. British Airways did give us each a $19 (why $19 instead of a nice round $20?) coupon for airport food. Once we got on board things were nicer. The first leg was direct to Heathrow (London's primary airport) on a 747-400. In seat In Flight Entertainment included a selection of free movies (watched "Up" for the first time) and a 'where am I' flight tracking program that first thought we were going to Iceland then, about the time we went feet-dry over Scotland, thought we were going back to Seattle. Still, the food was tasty (dinner and breakfast) and BA includes liquor without additional charge. US airlines, please take note - OK, not of the delay, but of everything else.
Heathrow is a warren reminiscent of a RoboRalley mapboard. Just figuring out the right line to get in was more than mildly challenging at times.
British Customs wasn't satisfied to know that I was an engineer. They wanted to know what kind of engineer I was.
Through customs, I had to go through security again before getting on the hop to Glasgow. Perhaps I should have parachuted out when we flew over on the way to Heathrow. I can't really fault the Brits for putting people through security again; I don't trust the TSA to screen adequately, why should they?
Arrived at the hotel safely, and found a wrinkle I'd never encountered before. You have to insert your keycard into a card reader next to the main light switch and leave it there in order to operate anything requiring electrons in the room. I expect, given the general trend of other equipment in the room, this is intended as a power-saving measure since it means you WILL turn out the lights and such when you leave the room.
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