"And shite on the bastards below!"

So, this could get long.

Got back last night from the city of Inverness, the "seat of the Highlands," where the flatmate and I decided to do a mini-break. We had one goal: to see Loch Ness. Goal accomplished!

We left at 6:30 Thursday morning, wending our way by train through the Scottish countryside. I was supposed to be reading Pamela, which is about protecting one's feminine virtue at the cost of ever having any fun, EVER, and since my only knowledge of the Highlands comes from Outlander, I had a hard time concentrating on my work. It took most of my energy to keep from hurling Pamela across the train and screaming, "To hell with ye and ye're right gittish virtue, ye English bink!" But I forbore.

Once in Inverness, the flatmate and I wandered around, walking along the river and exploring the various shops. We checked into our hostel and walked around some more. And then some more. And then more. And then we realized that Inverness doesn't really have a whole lot going on. Then we went to the pub.

The next day was Loch Ness day! That, my friends, is a beautiful body of water. No Nessie sightings, but I did see a grouse! We also explored Urquhart Castle, which is right in the middle of the loch. The water is incredibly dark, because of the peat I think, and it was really amazing the way the hills ran down into this deep, black basin. And we went to the gift shop; not going to lie, I loves me a gift shop. I almost bought a whistle shaped like a haggis, but I realized that a. it cost a week's worth of groceries and b. no one likes being whistled at.

That night we went out with some people from the hostel for a couple ginger beers (with lime slices...yum!) and ended up at a live music place called "Hootenanny." And boy howdy, was it. You haven't lived until you've watched a crowd of drunken Scots line-dancing to an accordion and fiddle version of Greenday's "Time of Your Life." LOVE.

Not so much in the eventfulness court until the following evening, when we boarded the train back to Inverness. The train pulled out of the station and, before we knew what was happening, we were SURROUNDED by the drunkest, loudest group of football fans...all men, and all singing fight songs about how much they hated the town of Dundee. Which hadn't played in the match. They were some good songs, though. This one is my favorite. Anyway, I don't think I can describe the din they produced in the train car; the conductor made one token effort to shut them up, then decided to offer seats in first class to anyone who didn't want to listen to this for three hours. We decided to stay, for the cultural experience, and each of the lads was apologetic in turn for his countrymen.

And so now I'm back, back to school, back to the grind, back to f--ing Pamela. Which, really, would have made it a much more interesting book.


Trip views below!