So perhaps that explains my affinity for Scotland; but whatever it was, I loved it and my company. Scots, much like the Irish, have a unique quality that sets them apart from the English. The three different cultures are without a doubt different from each other. And from what I've heard about the Welsch, they too are a little bit different --like a Newfie to other Canadians.
Embarassingly enough, my idea of a Scottish person was only what I had barely scraped together from popular culture--think Austin Powers' Fat Bastard and the Scottish school groundskeeper on the Simpsons (Simpsons' buffs, fill his name in here _______). And sure enough, such stereotypes weren't exaclty fulfilled. Although, there was plenty of tartan (yeah, it's tartan--not plaid. Plaid is the Canadian lumberjack wear you find at Mark's Work Warehouse; tartan is Scottish). So, for technicality's sake: a tartan is a specific woven pattern that symbolizes a particular Scottish clan.
My mother's maiden name being McLean, I most definitely have roots in Scotland somewhere. However, the Mac denotes the Scottish heritage--and Mc is Irish. Although, Scotland and Ireland have a long history together, going back further than the Irish Potatoe Famine of the 1840s ...so most people with one background, almost inevitably has roots in the other.
And with my last name being Young, obviously English--it has definitely been a trip to the motherland...
I took the train to Scotland from Manchester, which took about three and half hours. By train, it's a relatively comfortable and easy trip to make, although I've heard from a few Brits about how they can't be bothered to go "all the way up there." I went with Nicola, a girl from my program who is from Perth in central Scotland. But we were headed to Glasgow, Scotland's biggest city, to attend her friend's ceilidh.
It's pronounced kaylee, and it's essentially a Scottish party--Scottish dancing and all. It is the traditional Gaelic social dance in Scotland, and Ireland as well. And my first ceilidh was probably the best night out I've had since I've been here thanks to the dancing. If you're Scottish, you've attended plenty of ceilidhs, as in "a couple a year." And although there are specific dances, everyone familiarizes themselves with each dance as the night goes on. Fortunately, it makes being a beginner a little less obvious.
To my delight, the first dance the band called for was called the Canadian Barn Dance--yeah, I was actually delighted. And it made for an impossible opportunity to find a dance partner:
Excuse me, do you know the Canadian Barn Dance?
"Aye, course I doo."
Wonderful, would you be so kind as to teach a Canadian how to do her own barn dance?
"AYE o'course!!"
Before you get too excited: he was about 65 years old. But that didn't mean he left anything to be desired as a dance partner. He guided me skillfully through several dances, including the Dashing White Sergeant. And another of the names I recall, and could pick up through the mic and accent static, was Strip the Willow. The last one consisted of endless spinning and being whipped about by enthusiastic Scottish men who hoot and hollar whenever the fancy catches them. Reference the Scottish/Irish immigrants throwing a good ol' fashioned party in the hull of the Titanic ...leading to Leo and Kate's romantic romp, steaming up windows and hiding from security.. My ceilidh didn't end this way, but at least we know there is the possiblity...
And yes, there were kilts. I made sure to find a dance with a true-blue Glaswegian boy, Bryan McCann, who confirmed that true-blue Scots do indeed wear their kilts sans underwear (he told me so, and nothing more because I took his word for it).
I actually caught a bad case of the giggles several times that night--I think it was a combination of the spinning and trying to remember the names of the dances and their steps, hops, spins and kicks...or maybe it was the haggis.
Haggis is the traditional Scottish dish I think most people are familiar with. It is famous for its ingredients: sheep's heart, liver, lungs and minced onion, oatmeal and spices. Traditionally, it's boiled in the stomach of the sheep, although the person sitting beside me at the ceilidh happily allayed my fears, saying that today it is most often prepared in a casing of some other less natural matter. And without further buttering it up, no pun intended ...
It really wasn't that bad. I've already mentioned that I'm not the pickiest food critic--but haggis is pretty good. I think I prefer it to meatloaf.
What a shock.
Haggis: It's meaty, almost like a beefier hot dog. Now I realize that the longer and more intensely I try to describe haggis, the more harm I will do its reputation. So take my word for it: try it.
There is even a meat-free recipe specifically for vegetarians; I tried it too--also prettty good. The haggis at the ceilidh was served in little balls as appetizers, but normally it is served with "neeps and tatties," or turnips and potatoes that are mashed. Other Scottish food I encountered: tablet, which is a sugary confection served, well, in sugar cubes. Scottish whiskey of course and kangaroo.
I'll let that one sink in because I had to look once or twice too....
Now, to be fair, the kangaroo was being served at Walkabouts, an Australian restaurant/bar/club that has locations thoughout the UK, but technically I did come across it IN Scotland.
And I'm sorry to report, but I didn't have the nerve to try kangaroo and went for an always safe chicken caeser burger instead. But in case there is interest:
Kangaroo is a versatile, mouthwatering, lean red meat. It's regarded as a healthy alternative to more traditional red meats and is a part of a low-fat diet. Kangaroo is especially good at reducing cholesterol and is particularly delicious when served pink --apparently.
Other Walkabout meat selections (really, this lunch alone was an experience in itself):
Springbok --the small South African antelope. It, again apparently, has a unique taste and is consdiered a prized venison in Europe. I had no idea, but I did find it interesting that the idea of Springbok and kangaroo seemed barbaric to me only because I had never heard of it before.
But cow, pig, lamb, moose, even rabbit ..I've tried them all, and only the rabbit seemed a little tough to swallow (pun intended)...but only for a moment.
Glasgow--all food oddities aside, is a brilliant city. It's city centre is entirely paved with cobblestones and slate-like material. It has, and then some of the impressive architecture much of the UK has, and all the buildings reach the same height--making long, level lines up and down the streets. A perfectionist's dream..
The Glaswegians, and their local dialect of the same name, are friendly and impossible to understand all at the same time. Actually, I was expecting a more difficult time deciphering the accent, but it was still a task, especially when they were talking amongst themselves.
Myself and Nicola, along with our host Mhairi (pronounced very) also took the train to Edinburgh, the capital of Scotland and its second largest city. Edinburgh's architecture is the most impressive I've seen, moreso than London. There are endless amounts of impressive buildings in London, but none that match the beauty of Edinburgh's architecture, with the exception of the Scottish parliament. Apparently billions of pounds went into designing and building the Scottish parliament buildings that resulted in what I witnessed as one of the most hideous displays of post-modernismsomething-er-other ...it was awful.
As per usual in the United Kingdom, there were people everywhere. There is probably a scientific diagnosis for experiencing claustrophobia around people, but I'll just call it human-claustrophobia. I've developed, or realized my tendency for suffering this panic attack. Both Glasgow and Edinburgh were full of people, but I'm told that's where everyone is in Scotland and otherwise it is considerably deserted.
For some reason, probably due to all the English comments about the country, I was expecting a much more rural Scotland. Granted, I did spend my time in the two most populated cities in the coutnry, but those two cities were certainly comsmopolitan by my standards and in comparison to my own home city.
I will definitely visit Scotland again. It was wonderful, aside from the fact that it rained the entire time I was there--which didn't strike anyone out of the ordinary but still earned several bitter remarks. The English are the same: oh, it's raining again!?
Well surely, if it doesn't surprise me after four months --after an entire lifetime you can't genuinely be caught off guard by the fact that it's "pissing it down." --a wonderfully tact phrase, no? Given the weather patterns and the local vernacular, it's as common as a Canadian "he shoots, he scores!"
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