There Was Enough Stone, But A Bit Light On The Henge

Hiya everyone! I have some new pictures and a special surprise for you all today (at the end). The pictures are of some obscure rock formation called Stonehenge that's located in southern England. Almost no one knows about it, but I thought it was pretty cool.

We (meaning Sam, Laura, Kayla and I) left from Waterloo Station on a train for Salisbury. The weather was already looking dire, but we thought that we could walk to Stonehenge if it was only a mile or two away from the town. Um, no. It's actually about 10 miles away from town, so we had to fork over money for the bus tour that ran from the station to the site. We got to eat lunch in Salisbury at a sandwich shop run by two girls who weren't too good at making sandwiches (or asking for money in return; Kayla got her sandwich for free). Then we talked to the bus driver, who cleverly discerned we were American and had us list our home towns so that he could tell us the associated American football teams. He was very knowledgeable.

On the bus, a recorded tour told us some things about Salisbury that I don't really remember, but as we approached the site (as the weather steadily worsened) they debunked some myths about Stonehenge, principally that it was built by Druids. It turns out it was not built by Druids, but some people called (excuse my spelling) the Beakers. Of course, I immediately pictures this:

Not just a scientist after all

Then we arrived at the site, and I took some pictures. There is a rope preventing you from going among the stones, so that's why I had to stay back. Also, it was raining in a most unpleasant way at this point, so some of the pictures may suffer. Captions above.

Here they are. Henge refers to the placing of a horizontal stone on top of two vertical ones. So I suppose they were aptly named.

I believe this is called the Hill Stone.

Here is my excuse for not getting closer pictures. They don't want people walking among the stones since it would wear away the ground over time.

And finally, here is my Thanksgiving present to you. A video of Stonehenge in action. I know, I know, you're thinking it makes no sense to take a video of objects that are best known for not moving for thousands of years. Well...here's the video, so there. I pan the camera, at least! (Also, I didn't know the camera recorded sound, so there's no noise except the wind. Also, when I turn to the right to show the landscape I'm turning into the wind, so that's why it gets shakier. Any additional shakiness is due to my hands being very cold.)

And that was that. One bus ride, train ride and underground ride later we arrived in Leicester Square and had dinner at a Chinese restaurant. Then back to an appreciably warm and dry flat. I don't know what I'll be doing next week, but if I don't talk to you then happy Turkey Day! Or if you don't celebrate Thanksgiving, happy uneventful fourthThursday in November! Bye.

Glaswent

Hello everyone! I'm back in London after my week abroad in sunny Glasgow. I have tons of pictures; my camera is thoroughly exhausted. As usual, I will narrate my journey through those same pictures, so come along with me, will you? (The captions will be below the pictures)

Well, first a little introduction. My journey began early last Friday morning(the 30th) standing shivering outside of the Tube station waiting for it to open. Open it did, and I, along with other wide-awake and chipper Londoners, boarded the train. Since people were not habitually throwing themselves onto the tracks at that time of the morning, I managed to make it to Liverpool in good time and catch the Stansted Express to the airport. I was thrown unceremoniously out of the train after falling asleep, but I picked myself up, still awake and chipper, and made my way to security. Once there, I was quickly stripped of my tiny, half-empty bottle of contact lens cleaner on suspicion of being an international terrorist. Assuming that the biggest threat to international terrorism was currently dirty contact lenses, I accepted their decision and moved on, belt-less and shoeless. Luckily, the flight was on time and I was able to get a few seconds sleep in the air. Seriously, it's a short flight. Finally, I arrived in Scotland, began using my authentic Scottish accent, and got the taxi to my Aunt Sheila's house.

We went to an architectural museum called the Lighthouse and saw some good Macintosh designs, and later on we picked my cousins up from school and I met my Uncle John and had dinner and such. No pictures for these excursions, unfortunately, but the next day was different. I, along with John and my Aunt Eleanor, walked around Pollok Park and saw Pollok House and the Burrell Collection.

Upon entering the park, I was confronted with these strange creatures and the faint strains of bagpipes in the distance. Along with the drizzling rain, it was an authentic Scottish experience.

We also found some mushrooms, but it appears that Scottish Smurfs are not very sociable.

The same can also be said for these natives.

This is Pollok House, which was beautiful to look at and included some good walks around its gardens. This is the front of the house, obviously.

This is apparently a balcony that was built for a wedding in the early 20th century. The A and D are presumably the name of the couple, but I'm not sure. I'll conjecture they were called Arabella and Devon.

Here is more of the house from another side.

Ditto.

And the hedge mazes. They may look small, but this picture was actually just taken from a great height. The house may look the same size, but it's actually just an unusual perspective. Moving on...

Le Maison de Pollok. Chateau de Pollok? Je ne sais pas.

The beginning of one of the paths around the house.

This is an interesting old beech tree on the ground that has taken an odd shape due to varying environmental factors. Children will hang wishes on it during the holidays, and I think it has been chosen as historically significant by the Scottish government. It's something to see, that's for sure.

Just in case anyone needed a brighter colour.

More of the garden.

This trip took place on the Saturday, and on the Sunday I, Eleanor, John, and the wee'uns Dan and Libby went to Stirling Castle. The weather, as you will see, was traditional Scottish fare and unfortunately made it difficult for me to get good pictures of the surrounding landscape. Sorry about that, but I got some good ones of the castle and a wedding that took place inside! (If the pictures aren't captioned it's because I think they speak for themselves. It's not laziness, oh no.)

Here are my cousins at one of the walls, being very modest and ignoring the camera...

Oh wait, they just didn't know I was taking pictures. Quite a sight for any invading army, I'm sure.

The castle's graveyard as seen from the wall. I always try to scope out the location of the graveyard, in case of an imminent zombie apocalypse.

There was a tour guide inside who told us all about different medicines, rituals, and superstitions of the middle ages, including witches and marriage ceremonies. She attempted to marry my cousins, but to no avail. Apparently you have to be willing to get married, and it also helps if you're not siblings. It's funny, I don't think either are prerequisites in Mississippi. Hey-oh! Anyway, they had their hands tied with a red ribbon and got garlands placed upon their wee crowns.

Here Elizabeth sits in the seat designated for the Queen, all without a hint of irony. I think it suits her well.

The roof. Inevitably, no matter what great hall I enter, I end up with a picture of the roof. This was a recreation of the style James VI (I of England) would have had. I can't quite remember what it was called. Hammerbeam, maybe?

A tapestry. I can only hope you'll appreciate it.

Here's old Willy Wallace. He had a great victory near Stirling, which is why there's a bigger monument in the nearby hills. Unfortunately, the weather did not permit an excursion to see it.

The next day, Monday, I went into town in the morning to explore Glasgow a little. It rained intermittently throughout. There is only one picture (and then an extended, tenuously related story) , and it is of George's Square. St. George's, I think. Mmm...perhaps not. Anyway, the square has statues of various famous Scots. Not famous enough for my blog, however.

As I promised, here is my tenuously connected story. As I explored Glasgow, visiting bookshops and museums, I constantly kept an eye out for liquor stores. Ordinarily I do not frequent those places (I assure you), but on this trip I had a special charge, a quest, to find a certain type of wine. To start at the beginning, my flatmates and I were made familiar by name of a certain wine one of our first days in London. I honestly cannot remember how we heard about it, but out interest was peaked when we discovered (via Wikipedia) that it was made by monks for medicinal purposes, was fortified, and contained caffeine. The wine is commonly called Buckfast. Now I assure you that our interest in it, in the beginning, was almost scholarly. We wanted to immerse ourselves in the English culture so as to facilitate our education in this strange land. This wine, Buckfast, seemed a fast track to understanding some...aspects of these United Kingdoms, so why wouldn't we want to try it? Well, we started going around to some shops locally and asking around for this wine, all to no avail. It wasn't frustrating at first; shopkeepers would say they didn't have it and we would move on. We then thought to solve our problems through the internet, looking up Buckfast online to find a shop selling it in London. Well, not only has Buckfast avoided being swept up in the digital age, but the few hints as to its location sent us to frightening areas of London where back-alley wine shops laughed at our requests. We were told they were fresh out, and like Tantalus we would grasp at retreating chances through vague references made by these vintners to other wine sellers, their cousins and siblings across town, or different far-off places that required passwords and bribes to gain access. As we were becoming wrapped up in a Dan Brown-like universe of codes and disappointment (Hey-oh!), we were becoming still more determined, and like searching for the Holy Grail the joy came in the search and not the achievement of this mysterious Buckfast.

There was a constant in this equation, however, and that was the hint that this drink could be found in abundance in the "north." So, having reached our break in the semester, I was charged with finding this drink in this "north," which we took to mean Scotland. So I looked and looked, asking relative after relative about Buckfast. Each time, the reaction was the same: a flash of realization, a hand to the brow, and a slow, shame-filled shake of the head as I looked on, a little ashamed of my request but still undaunted, fuelled by my quest and enchanted by the allure of this seemingly unattainable drink. Now, I will not give away the end of my quest but let's just say that there is hope, and I will complete this saga when I have achieved my Buckfast. Where was I again? Oh yes, Glasgow. No one had the Buckfast. Moving on...

Ah, yes. On Wednesday John and I went to Troon to walk along the beach and see the town. It was an absolutely beautiful walk, as I will let the pictures show, and the weather was pleasant. Here is the beach, which in some places was overcome with seaweed.

A golf course runs alongside the beach.

Thursday was the fifth of November, and for the first time in my life I actually did remember. I went with John, Dan, Neil and Ann to a bonfire and fireworks show in a nearby park.

Okay, you guys will have to bear with me for the fireworks. It is annoyingly difficult to get a good picture of them if you are a bad photographer, so out of about 30 pictures the following were actually the best. Seriously. The fireworks were great though; they lasted around 40 minutes and were very entertaining the whole way through.

On Friday I went with Sheila to Edinburgh for the day, and the first thing we did was climb these steps. I took a picture because I collapsed at the top and thought I might as well make the best of it.

After this we went to a tour of Mary King's Close, which are these narrow alleyways preserved underneath the modern city. The tour was really great, very spooky and with a very lively and informative guide. Lots of low ceilings and doorways, though.

A church on the road leading up to the castle.

The Castle. We didn't go inside, but I got some pictures of the outside. There are some statues thrown in too.

Some views of the city from the castle follow. Even better views later on!

The side of the Scottish Parliament. Some people were unhappy with the design, and everyone was unhappy with the cost. Oh well.

This is Arthur's Seat, and I'm not exactly sure of the history behind it. I walked behind it too, so I would know. Hey-oh! But seriously, I did climb it, and it was a little steeper than it looks. For me, anyway.

Another view of the Seat.

What follows are the views from the (sort-of) top of the Seat. These pictures were hard-earned, so I included all the ones I took. There may be some repeats.

The castle at the foot of the hills in the distance had all its torches lit. I'm not sure why, but it was interesting.

There was also a danger of falling Joey.

The path continued on down, but I had to get back.

Alas, the end of pictures, and also close to the end of my trip. I saw the McDougall family that night, and the next day (Saturday) there was a wonderful farewell party for me. All in all, it was a great week, and I want to thank anyone who's reading this who was involved in making it so wonderful. Feel free to leave comments adding or correcting anything I've said. I'll try to get out of London next weekend to get some more pictures.

Bye!