Acculturated

Well, I did it. After three months in Scotland, I finally made it to a museum--the National Museum of Scotland. This place is literally a block from my school, and completely free from admission, so the fact that it took me so long to go see it really does represent my own cultural and intellectual failure (I like to take things as personally as possible). Turns out museums are actually a pretty good way of passing the afternoon; who knew?

The pictures that follow are in no way indicative of the extent of the Museum's holdings. They are probably indicative of yet another mental failure on my part, i.e., these are the things that I found interesting enough to take pictures of. You're welcome.

De train! De train! (Yeah, I know that's wrong)

"The Miner's Friends"--hahahahahaa

Tiny little coffins found on Arthur's Seat...creeeeepy.

Commemorative hair arrangements.

Snuff box made out of a ram's head!!!!

But the most important discovery of all:

COSTUMES!!!!!!! Thank you, Children's Discovery Center (or Centre, I suppose) for understanding what people really want from history: dress-up time.

How do you do, good sir?

"I am bashful and feminine"

"I am arrogantly male."

"I am also male."

"But sad and insecure about my too-large doublet."

Having finally exhausted the costume options, we were faminshed. Famished, I say. And having spent the day learning about Scotland's varied and prestigeous history, what better way to refuel than with Scotland's varied and greasy fried food options, all served up on a giant wooden board? The answer is none ways.

What is disgusting is that we did eat all of this. Disgusting and amazing.

So voila, my day of culture and fried foods. Perhaps today will entail more of the same? Although, for the sake of my arteries, I may need more culture and less grease. Which--basically means I am in the wrong country.