Getting High In Scotland, Pt. 2

Scotland- this country is full of surprises. When you expect reverence, they give you crass, when you expect campy, they give you class. And in both circumstances, it just makes you wonder how hard they're actually working. As our bus was pulling out of Eddie Bert, heading for the highlands, I spotted a man in a bright vest, a sanitation worker. He had a garbage bag in one hand and a metal stick on the other and he looked like he was picking up all the litter alongside the road. It was about 8:30 on a Saturday morning so the streets were mostly empty. Ah, I thought, that's great, they do care about the environment after all and really, litter is a huge problem here. Cheers to you, sanitation worker. And then I saw him use his stick to pick up a piece of trash, look to the left, look to the right, then throw the trash behind him into a little patch of grass so that it was off the street, yes, but on a piece of grass a foot behind him. That's not sanitary, man! He had a garbage bag in his left hand this whole time! But no, he decided to litter instead.

Along the tour, as I've said, we heard many delightful stories about Scottish history and how they killed rival clans, etc. (I really hope that their definition of Clansman is different than the American definition. Click on the photo for a better idea of what I mean.) Our ears especially perked when our tour guide mentioned the crannogs of old, mostly because Vita-L and I have been hearing that term all month long in our archaeology class without any real understanding of what a crannog was. Turns out, crannogs were defense structures on little artificial islands in the middle of lakes that the Scots built in times of warfare, to seek refuge from the enemies. Again, let us pause and consider the logic. (Jamilah made us do that over, and over, and over again because the absurdity just delighted her too much). So, enemies are coming and instead of, I don't know, stay and fight or scatter to the hills, these people ran toward the middle of the lake. Doesn't that make for difficult escapes should the enemy go toward them? Can't the bad guys just wait on land for their supplies to run out? And couldn't they just torched the crannog? Those were the immediate questions that came to mind. You're welcome to add your own. Like, were craisins involved? Because if not, that sounds like a misnomer to me. Sometimes, I wish I had lived in historic Scotland, because I would've made for one brilliant military strategist.

What were we talking about? Ah, yes. Surprises. At Loch Ness, the place where we expected, nay, counted on, the most kitsch and gimmicks, we actually encountered nothing but class. It was beyond disappointing. The gift shops (there were only two) were all tasteful anad had either cute stuffed animals, fancy sweaters, or books on Loch Ness. Are these people not aware that their only claims to fame are fuzzy pictures of a fake monster that really isn't that authentic of a folklore? I wanted the cheesy and over-the-top, but all I got were images of a serene lake. Oh, Nessie, I had such high hopes for you.