Pictures to go with this post:
Scotland
And part two of vacation…
So one day later, we got up at a more reasonable time and headed to the airport from the little city of Beauvais and made it through the whole process again, though this time with more energy after a day of forced recuperation. Our plane to Glasgow went off without a hitch and we met some friends of mine at the airport after only a short wait and they drove us to Edinburgh, which was the most amazing gift to have.
These were two English gentlemen (father and son) that I had met in Castuera because they had come to see their father/grandfather. Sad, but fascinating story: I had been called to the old folks home here in town to help get the news to this father/grandfather’s family about him. He had been sick for a while, but had recently gotten worse and they wanted to contact the family to let them know and to figure out what should be done with his stuff and with the body, should the man pass. I went with my headmaster, who speaks fine English, but delivering that kind of news isn’t even easy in one’s native language, so he was worried about sounding calloused and asked if I would come along. So I did.
We had tried to call Alasdair (the father of the father and son combo), but the number listed wasn’t getting us through for some reason, so I went home to try and send an email to the email provided on the contact list. After a couple days I hadn’t heard a thing.
Then the old folks home called because Alasdair had tried to call to say that he was coming for the weekend. The first time he called, he quickly realized he needed his son to try and help him say it, since his son (Doug) knew a little bit of Spanish. They got the point across to the home before we got there, and so I figured that they had gotten the email and had made plans immediately.
It turns out (as they explained when they got to Castuera) that the contact sheet had Alasdair’s email wrong and he had never gotten the email, so when they came, they found Myles in a much worse state than they had expected. Certainly worse than when they visited two years prior. So I was called on again to help with translating while they were there, though I didn’t do much. But apparently they thought I did, because I have been thanked enormously since.
They had made a temporary plan (if he got worse over the weekend his son would leave and Alasdair would try to stay as long as possible while if he didn’t get worse or got better they would leave and be on high alert to fly down to be with him should he get worse later) but it was still iffy. They flew in on Thursday, got to spend Friday with him, and on Saturday morning I got a call at 7am saying that Myles had passed in the night. I hope this doesn’t sound morbid, but it was great timing. They hadn’t seen Myles in a year or two and they randomly (remember, they never got my email, they just chose that particular weekend to visit without knowing) chose the weekend he died to come down to say hello, got a whole day with him, and make him feel loved before he left, and then even had enough time to arrange what to do with his stuff and his remains. I don’t know, I think it was maybe some kind of intervention.
SO! That’s the story on Doug and Alasdair! Business was taken care of, they spread the ashes on Sunday before leaving, and they made their plane out of Seville back to Scotland without a hitch.
And Scotland is where they come back into the story again. We had originally planned to stay with a friend of David’s outside of Edinburgh while there, but she lived with her boyfriend’s parents and there was no room for us. So, I started harassing the only two Scottish contacts I had, one of whom said no, she couldn’t, and the other of whom was Doug. Though he was outrageously hard to get a hold of and our accommodations didn’t even cement until two days before we left for Scotland, he came through for us. A friend of his was gone for the vacation and his flat was empty. We were given keys and full reign.
So back to the story. Doug and Alasdair drove us from Glasgow to Edinburgh, to the apartment of this friend. It was a disaster. We tried not to look appalled, but it really was gross. There was something in the fridge (a rump roast, I think) that was oozing and smelling up the entire fridge. There were bits of food lying on the carpet getting ground in with every step we took, beer bottles with stale and molding beer inside, and dishes with molding food everywhere. Not to mention the stove top, which looked like an explosion. We spent the first evening cleaning, because neither David nor I do well with that kind of filth. Messy, sure. But rotting food, pieces of garbage, and dirty laundry everywhere? No.
But it wasn’t a bad trade. We had been looking, as a BARE MINIMUM, at $700 just in housing alone while in Scotland. They have this New Years party, you see, that is one of the best in Europe, if not THE best. And so everyone was there and bunks in 14-person rooms were going for $100 per night. Dorm beds for $100 per night! So a little bit of cleaning and the 20 pound note we left the guy to help with electricity and water was a GREAT trade for saving all that money. Especially considering I would have never been able to pay my share had we gone with the hostel route.
So they came through for us with that and invited us to their home in Stirling for Haggis on the day after New Years. Haggis is like all the extra pieces of the lamb that no one wants, ground up and stuffed into the stomach of the lamb and then boiled with spices. Surprisingly, not bad.
We partied on New Years with a cool couple from California that had been on the same cancelled flight as ours in Beauvais and then met up with some other foreigners (a Moroccan, a French and a Spaniard, maybe?), with whom we went dancing. It was DELIGHTFUL.
We did another free city tour (if ever in Europe, look for the free tours offered, especially if by Sandeman’s “NewEurope”—the guides are fun and work for tips alone), went to Harry Potter in English with French subtitles (“wand” is “baguette” in French!), took a train to Stirling for a meal with our friends, spent a day with David’s friend Helen and her boyfriend, and met a hilarious and cute couple from Germany on our last night. It was so much more of a laid back atmosphere than Paris. I loved it. David loved it. We loved Scotland.
Spanish coast to come.
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