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I've shared a few graffiti based travel posts, so I thought I'd do one more, but I'd describe this one as low controversy, high importance. 

Dear friends, although I'm a bit confused by this graffiti artist's phrasing, I say yes, go hug your Nan. (Believe me, I would if I could.)

After taking the ferry from Scotland to Belfast, Ireland, our first visit was to the Duke of York Pub, (apparently) a famous party spot in the Cathedral district. This is not why we chose to wander inside but I'm glad we did. They allow you to write on the walls! 

I might be the only person to ever describe a pub this way, but it reminded me of a time-travel version of my childhood school with the wooden desks (the ones I desperately wanted to write on), albeit with a lot more Guinness than Mrs. Pochipinski's classroom ever had. 😄

Guess who always has a pen with him? Hmm...so where did I leave my mark? Well, friends of a certain age, some agist pylon wrote "old people are weird," so next to it I retaliated with a stern, "no we're not." Sorted that out, didn't I? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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We departed early on a June day and did a marathon drive in-between Inverness and Glasgow. Scots might be appalled at the expanse of this one-day road-trip, but for many Canadians...? Pfft, a five hour drive is basically a Wednesday. 

We drove along The Great Glen (stunning) and stopped at Urquhart Castle AND HELLO HISTORY NERDS: TREBUCHET ALERT. This brutal medieval war-toy is an engineering feat, and history tells us they were used in shockingly inappropriate ways. What would you flllliiiiiinnnngggg to defeat an enemy? 

Next was a quick stop in Fort William, a warm and friendly town that my spouse and I spent a day exploring on our first trip to Scotland. But this time...WE ACTUALLY SAW BEN NEVIS! During our last visit, locals suggested not to fret about the (interminable) rain and fog as even some Scots, despite multiple visits to this town, have never seen the UK's tallest mountain! I'd call us lucky ducks, but I believe the Scots say, "absolutely jammy." FYI, I will be stealing this phrase as spreading jam on what you're already enjoying is the perfect way to describe unanticipated luck. 

After a sunny picnic along the lovely Loch Linnhe, we continued driving aka repeatedly accelerating and decelerating (see: roundabouts, sigh). Side note: as locals might say, "I didnae ken" how effectively the Scots use roundabouts to slow drivers down. It's brilliant, but as Canadians might say, also #$@!% annoying. But soon we just didn't care anymore....

BECAUSE VIEWS. Glencoe... Loch Ba... Loch Tulla... Loch Lomand... Whoa... definitely not just a Wednesday! It's like YOU get a car spectacular view and YOU get a car spectacular view and YOU get a car spectacular view. Thank you Oprah Scotland! 

And finally, Glasgow, a city my spouse and I spent several days in during our first trip to Scotland (the Necropolis, the People's Palace, Buchanan Street, those incredible street murals...) but this trip? We had one evening before we took a bus and ferry to Belfast. What to do? Meet a fellow blogger, of course! It was an absolute vacation highlight! But why didn't we take a photo together?!

Dear Christina, thank you again for your warmth and hospitality and our fun conversation. During our talk you mentioned one of your favourite Scottish words, "outwith," the opposite of within. As we discussed, to my knowledge this is not standard usage in Canada, but I suppose our closest equivalent would be outside of or beyond? Well, Christina, although we live outwith Scotland, it lives in our hearts and now, so do you. I wish we lived closer but remember, if you ever travel to western Canada.... 

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Click for a recent news report about Nessie. ;)

Thanks to its impressive depth, Loch Ness happens to hold more fresh water than all lakes in England and Wales combined. That's big. And hmm... what might possibly be hiding in those depths? 😜

As a kid growing up on the Canadian prairies, I recall being rapt reading about the Loch Ness monster. Before (and after) I understood myth and folklore and tourism marketing, I hoped to one day to visit this famous Scottish lake.

I'm so glad I did. It's just sooooo beautiful there. 

Did we spot Nessie? Nope. Other than Steve, the genial amateur cryptozoologist (?) parked on the beach, I completely forgot about the legend. Click this link to watch a short video about Steve; he has an inspiring message for the inner child within us all. 

We spent the morning hiking through the forest along the still loch water looking to the mountains on the horizon. Quiet and calm and cool and sun-dappled with greens, it's mossy and rocky and fresh... and let's be honest—I need a poet to help me say it better. Maybe Rilke and his love for the trees? 

Speaking of love, I know from family records that Loch Ness is not far from where my maternal great-grandparents held their marriage ceremony. I now know why. And maybe I know them a little better now too? As poet Mary Oliver said about how to go into the woods: "if you have ever gone to the woods with me, I must love you very much." 

In-between

Dear friends, don't judge Inverness by what Macbeth did there. I found no weird sisters nor "damned spots." 

The truth is that this small city is pleasingly walkable with pretty views along both sides of the swift-flowing River Ness, er wait...? What's forming those ripples in the water? 😉

Inverness folks were talkative, kind, and considerate and perhaps similar to those in Edinburgh, a tad pissed off by the world. How so? Somewhere in-between the Griege Street suspension bridge (iyam a bit-too-bouncy of a pedestrian bridge, built in 1880) and the bustling Victorian Market, we encountered more Scottish graffiti. Local reviews were reportedly as follows: 1/10 for artistry 😂 and 9/10 for message.✊

Say, just how much does it cost to fund a war? Sigh.🤦

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Before I explain how we achieved my wife's small dream of petting a highland "coo," a caution: periodically we Canadians hear about tourists who visit us and attempt to take selfies with an elk or a moose or a bison or a grizzly bear. (I kid you not.) Terrible ideas. 

So, I would like to assure readers that we were not those (eejit) tourists; we did not wander into a farmer's field or traipse across protected parkland. Instead, we just stopped to pee at a service station.... 

Although it's unlikely you've visited this particular gas station (near Perth, Scotland), if you do road trips at all ANYWHERE in the world, I suspect you've visited a similar gas station, one that sells EVERYTHING. 

All-day breakfast? Of course. Whisky? Definitely. Underwear? Got it. Scented Candles? Yes. Vegan brownies? Yup. Feather boas? "We might be sold out." AND Highland cows fenced out back? AYE!

To use some Scottish slang (hopefully correctly), gas-station happenstance is good craic. 

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Eejit 1, 2 & 3 (me)

Our first full day in Edinburgh was a sunny Saturday in June, so we intended to take full advantage but we had no idea how our plans would unfold that day, my favourite in this favourite city.

In the morning we threaded our way through the city to (literally) a fairytale storybook location: Dean Village. This sublime and peaceful ancient community (12th century) in a lush green valley in New Town is impossibly charming. 

After exploring quietly (people live there), we continued along a tree-shrouded walking path next to the river Leith where we observed a mother duck teaching her ducklings to repeatedly swim into the waterfalls' current, then float backward and then push into the current again—vital life-lessons for us all these days. 

Soon we discovered a rickety rope swing over the river. I watched while each of my other three traveling companions, er eejits, temporarily suspended their frontal lobes and yoga-contortioned themselves onto said swing, while nearby I pondered, is 911 a thing in Scotland? 

Unscathed, we continued until we happened upon the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art where the first thing we saw was a large sign on the grounds declaring, THERE WILL BE NO MIRACLES HERE. Insert thinking emoji face here. Later, while navigating our way back to public transport, I thoroughly contemplated that sign. Is it irony? A quotation? Political protest? A reference to something historical? And what exactly constitutes a miracle...and who decides? Hmm. 

My conclusion? Scots artists are quite masterful at "making the masses muse," or at least this mass, ha. (Read more about the artist here, if you're interested). 

Soon we were on a bus to Edinburgh Castle (which we visited during our first trip to Scotland), so we grabbed lunch from street vendors in Grassmarket, aka where I first fell in love with fennel-seed sausage rolls. (They are a small but substantial miracle, ha.) 

We began to notice then that the crowds were quickly increasing along the Royal Mile... and suddenly we found ourselves in the middle of Edinburgh's pride parade! Middle might be a misnomer but with 40000+ people flooding everywhere, the sidewalks mostly disappeared. It was quite moving to witness and cheer on so many people singing and drumming and joyfully celebrating the freedom to be themselves.  

We continued down the street until we found a close that happens to have the same name as our oldest granddaughter, M, so we took a selfie, and then walked to the base of Arthur's Seat (elevation 251 meters/823 feet), an extinct volcano next to the city. On our first trip to Edinburgh, my spouse and I climbed the Holyrood side, an easy hike, but this time we climbed the city side, much steeper. 

Certainly by western Canadian standards, Arthur's Seat is no (Alberta Rocky) mountain, but you know that feeling when you've accomplished something challenging? Maybe like 1 part relief, 1 part pride, and 8 parts invigoration. Something like that. 

Did our sunny June Saturday in Scotland contain any miracles? I don't know for sure, but I do like that saying, "if life is a series of small miracles—notice them." 

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We saw this piper along the Royal Mile in Edinburgh. 

Although I did not wear a kilt to my own wedding, when my son was young I used to tell him that he and I will wear kilts to his wedding someday. He's getting married next summer. Hmm. 

The first time I visited Scotland, I tried on a kilt. Absolute blunder. I had no idea how to wrap the fabric, where or how to buckle it, how high to wear it, how to adjust its length.... I soon realized I needed a. my ancestor's confidence and b. some sort of kilt whisperer. Since I have zero experience as an adult male requesting that someone help dress me, there was no kilt-whispering, ha. Maybe my son and I will don Stewart tartan bowties next summer instead?

Bagpipes always give me big feelings. I'm not sure why the tears...perhaps because they made my grandparents emotional? Bagpipes always invite in me a stillness: pay attention. That magical sound gets inside me. Some people say they find bagpipes alarming; I think they're positively arresting. 

One more thing about my love for bagpipes. When she was 20, my daughter moved across Canada (to Montreal) to complete her first degree. Those were more turbulent years in our parent vs young adult relationship. One day, I received an unprompted text from her: "I heard bagpipes and thought of you." Whoa. 

Dear friends...that's even better than bagpipes. 

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On to Scotland. Six of my eight great-grandparents emigrated from this Land o' Cakes. I adore this country. 💓

From London we took the train north to Edinburgh and explored our neighbourhood. If you've visited, you know about the closes that enable pedestrians to move in-between locations along the Royal Mile in Old Town. One particular close featured (in my opinion) some very Scots graffiti, ha. 

This was my second visit to Scotland, so it would be stupid to claim I'm qualified to be an astute observer of Scottish folks. But my memories of my maternal great-grandparents and my travel experience suggests to me that Scots are typically witty, genuine, and straightforward, hence the succinct message here, lol, one I read with an exasperated tone. 

It's a sound message for the world, isn't it? Later, during a whisky tasting, a comedian phrased it another way for us tourists: "don't be a bawbag." 😄 Good advice. (Maybe don't google that, ha.)

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Watch a video
about "Babel."

We enjoyed several London experiences. This was my second trip, so I've done many of the tours: Tower Bridge, the Thames boat tour, Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, Trafalgar Square, Shakespeare's Globe, the Tower of London....

But this time, two big art installations stood out to me. 

Firstly, I appreciated the National Covid Memorial Wall. Adorned with hand-painted hearts and an open invitation to write the name of a lost loved-one, it is maintained by volunteers. What are other countries doing to commemorate the 7 million+ people who died during the pandemic? 

Secondly, I loved the Tate Modern Art Museum. Mostly free, it features artworks by Matisse, Dali, Picasso, Warhol, Lichtenstein, but the one that completely captured my attention was "Babel" by Cildo Meireles. 

Entering the room from around the corner, the 8 meter behemoth at first seems like any other antiquated busted tower, inviting you to look up, but then you notice the materials—stacks of radios arranged upward from large to smaller, old to newer technology, and then you discover these radios are ON, tuned to different stations!

If you know the biblical story of the Tower of Babel, its meaning is obvious and then you slowly realize it is simultaneously meaningless as it floods the room with quiet and scratchy radio nonsense—discordant sounds, and voices, and languages from throughout the world. In other words, it's trippy and clever. Although constructed in 2001, it's also very 2020s.

Dear friends, art sometimes uses technology to ask us humans big questions: are we truly so advanced if we still can't understand each other? 

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I took this photo somewhere in London. Who am I to say, but "loo" really is the most charming name for what we Canadians typically refer to as the bathroom (or the washroom, the toilet, the can, the throne, the shitter, ha). 

As tourists, it's also quite a relief to find the loo, a small victory while navigating unfamiliar places. 

Various language historians hypothesize that "loo" is a diminutive form of words like "lookie-loo" and "gardyloo," which I've blogged about in the past. So I love the notion that a loo is not just a great human leveler, but also an invitation to pay attention. 

We all know modern life is endlessly distracting, competing for our attention, highlighting and monetizing clicks and likes and other nonsense that essentially interferes with the personal agency we once took for granted: living, being, discovering, experiencing, understanding, enjoying, appreciating.... 

Looking with intent is becoming a bit of a lost art. Dear friends, isn't the point of sightseeing to open and expand your mind? To be inspired and to learn? To cherish and be astonished? To have a good look at the world? To shake loose old thinking? To evolve?