After deciding we should get up in our reasonably tired and hungover
state, Australia discovered that Canada had left the building. We had
intentions of going to see the castle today, given that our previous
efforts had failed, but thought that first we would try and find out
where Canada was. And, easy as you like, our first guess was right: in
the closest possible drinking location – the pub downstairs! With
America. I never knew the two ever got along so well.
The
drinks were already flowing, so we decided we needed to join in the New
Years’ Day festivities. Soon we were emptying our pints and the shots
began. After the amount we’d drunk the night before it didn’t take long
before we were starting to feel it again! By now America were drunk
enough that they didn’t want to go back to Birmingham as planned, for
their next work day; after calling up the boss they were granted
permission to stay another day and drink on with us. Sweet!
And
then the stories from New Year’s Eve, in particular Up the Kilt,
started flowing. The funniest thing from all the reminiscing was when I
pulled out the condom I had scored from Mr Health Worker Tom, and
realised that it was a “GI Jonny” Condom – the namesake of our new
American buddy, whom I had also pashed the night before. Absolute GOLD
for Australia! It even said “To inform and protect” – very appropriate
given his profession as a US army officer.
By this
stage Jen was in fine form and decided to go out, with Rach in tow, to
buy a souvenir that she had spied in a nearby shop. They returned not
long afterwards with their new purchases: religious t-shirts, which were
very funny at this stage, as well as some ultra-loud, ultra-fluorescent
beanies. Jen’s t-shirt read “Don’t panic! I’m Islamic” and Rach’s read
“Jesus is coming. Look busy!” These were immediately much revered by the
group, and therefore Jen decided that we all needed one. Mine read
“Jesus loves you – but I’m his favourite”. My own favourite however was
Keith’s, which read “I’ve found Jesus – he was behind the sofa the whole
time”. Gold!
After all the shots, other drinks,
t-shirts, spilling drinks, karaoke and obligatory air guitar, the staff
at the World’s End decided it was time to kick us out (about the 100th
time for the week!). So out we went into the cold. By now Rach and I
decided we needed to find some more food; on our return we discovered
our pals in the nearest pub – the Royal Mile, our favourite haunt from a
few nights ago. And then more drunkenness ensued. We managed to meet a
few Irish chicks; their very camp friend Martin, who took a real shining
to GI Jonny; and a bit later in the piece, three very also-camp Italian
guys. One we immediately named Salmon, due the colour of his cashmere
sweater. The other two were also great; one being a big hulk of a guy,
who was extremely lovely, just like a big teddy bear, whom I
subsequently spent the next few hours hugging; the other was a small,
skinny guy in tight jeans and a waistcoat, quite cute actually, who
seemed quite curt at first but by the end was just as fun and raucous as
the others. It was absolutely hilarious.
By this stage
the music was turned up, the singing and dancing had spilled over into
the entire bar and we ended up dancing on the tables. Even our big gay
friend, who, at the recommendation of the barman, found quite a sturdy
table to jump up onto. The bar staff at the Royal Mile were absolute
champs and put up with all our nonsense for the whole night without
kicking us out. Eventually when the pub closed we had no choice but to leave, and all went our separate ways.
Day
4 was our last day in Edinburgh, which finished rather sadly with an
extremely hungover brunch, where none of us could really string many
sentences together. America had dropped in to say goodbye before
departing on the train back down to Birmingham. And so I farewelled
Australia and Canada on their drive back to Norwich, and spent the rest
of the afternoon hanging out in Edinburgh. I decided to go for a wander
around the town; I was so hungover that my postcard to mum and dad fell
out of my pocket and I didn’t even notice. I’d spent so long looking for
a stamp for it too! After wandering up the castle, and seeing how long
the ticket line-up was, I decided I couldn’t cope with waiting in line
for half an hour, let alone a castle tour. So for the second time that
week, I had been to Edinburgh castle but had not actually gone inside.
Nice one Jac.
What I wasn’t too hungover for was
wandering around an art gallery. I could try and tell you who the
exhibition was by and where it was housed, but that part has also sadly
departed from my memory. I do know he was a German artist and I really
enjoyed admiring his work…! Upon catching the bus to the airport, it
really hit home that The Big Adventure was finally over :( But it had
been RAD. And definitely the best New Year’s ever!
All of the drunken evidence is here. http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=60781&id=543196685&l=1f6a28c582
Showing posts with label Scotland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Scotland. Show all posts
Monday, January 5, 2009
Snogmanay, Up The Kilt challenges, ghosts, whisky tours, Americans, Jesus t-shirts and three consecutive days of drunkenness...
...aka New Years’ Eve in Edinburgh!
So, where to begin with THIS adventure. Well, maybe at the very beginning, a very good place to start.
It was awesome to see Rach, my great mate from uni all those years ago, when I stepped off the train in Leeds. We later worked out it had been five years since we’d last seen each other. And that’s way too long (so we’ve vowed to make sure the next meeting is within that time frame). Rach had driven from Norwich in north-west England, where she’s currently studying her Masters in International Development and Conflict. She had brought two other ladies with her – a Miss Audrey and a Miss Katie, two Canadians, one of which who studies with Rach in Norwich, and the other who works for a small NGO in genocide prevention.
And so we zoomed off towards The North. That’s actually what it says on the road signs. I figured it was some sort of indescribable region in an upwards direction, so we headed there given that Scotland is north of England (!). After a mammoth drive (merci beaucoup chauffer Rachael) we finally arrived at the now very dark Scottish border for an official picture of our first foray into the country.
Then the challenge was on to find our apartment with all the one way streets. Boo! In the end it wasn’t too hard, and we were delighted to find the apartment located right on the Royal Mile, the main cobblestoned drag through the town, which led directly up to Edinburgh Castle. Perfect! It was on the fourth floor (and the narrow, lighthouse-style stone stairs were a killer) above a great little pub called the World’s End, which soon after we discovered was even better inside with friendly staff and a rad menu. So our night finished after a few wines and an agreement that we shouldn’t get too drunk on our first night, especially with New Year’s coming up and a day of exploring the city to come.
The next day we were out and about exploring Edinburgh. Given how early it gets dark at this time of year, we decided to take on the challenge of reaching Arthur’s Seat, atop a lofty perch overlooking the city. So up we laboured, cameras in hand, stopping extremely often along the way – not only because the light was beautiful and the views of the city were stunning, but because we were already tired! We lost Audrey early on in the piece and after Rach and I decided to make our way to the top we also lost Katie. In the end I was the only one who made it right to the top. But that was ok, it was getting time to cruise back down the mountain and find our fellow comrades.
Some piccies at http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=60796&id=543196685&l=5779fd1fb7
We wandered back down the mountain and around the streets of this beautiful city, admiring the ancient architecture and the way the castle imposed itself at the opposite end of the city to Arthur’s Seat, forebodingly observing the goings-on of the city below. When we eventually made our way back to the Royal Mile we found our friends in a state of already advanced inebriation in a pub across the road, and sat down to polish off a bottle of wine with them. After we’d been kicked out of the pub (not Australia’s fault, it was those rowdy Canadians) we went back to the apartment to drop off Canada and proceeded to grab a nice, relaxing quiet dinner for two before joining a ghost tour. Edinburgh is said to have a gruesome history of burning witches, torture, poverty and other dark secrets and we wanted to find out what these were, as well as where the spirits left behind by these practices were lurking. Unfortunately due to the time of year (and the offer of a free drink at the end), the tour was packed and the company had two concurrent tours going, which meant competition for time and space and a long, annoying wait at the tour’s start for everyone to pay.
Eventually the tour began, with a wander through the streets, a quick history lesson and then into some old, dark and damp vaults which were originally designed for the storage of bulk goods such as tobacco. When this idea failed due to the influx of water through the limestone, the vaults became the hiding place of the homeless, who were not legally allowed to exist on Edinburgh’s streets, and white witches, who practiced their religion in secret to avoid being burned at the stake. The cramped conditions led to poor sanitation, high levels of disease and therefore mortality, and it was the ghosts of the poor that were said to inhabit these vaults. We didn’t see any. Nor was the tour scary in any way – even after the claims that it has featured on numerous TV shows as the most able to prove the existence of ghosts, and the lame and futile attempts of one of the guides to jump out and scare us at the end.
After being quite disappointed with the ghost tour and the shady location of our ‘free drink’, we headed out of the bar on the lookout for something a bit more welcoming. We found quite a dearth of appropriate places, so after stepping into and almost immediately out of a quite shady establishment we resigned ourselves to going back to the apartment, even though we were both clearly up for something a bit more fun.
While walking back down the Royal Mile, we passed a little pub of the same name. Fortuitously someone ahead of us just happened to step inside, and the very rad live music filtering out of the place, for just a moment, was enough to get us straight in there. Great minds think alike. After a while I had acquainted myself with a nice Italian boy and Rach had literally grabbed the arm of a New Zealander posing as a Scotsman – asking him ‘where to next?’ under the impression he was a tour guide – and we had our chaperones for the night.
Roberto had lost his mates a few hours earlier and Pete was up for some more adventures after the pub closed, so the four of us headed out into the cold in search of Grassmarket – a street downtown which was home to more drinking establishments. By the time we got there it was around 2am and the only place we could find was a very Woolshed-like (ugh!) pub-slash-club, but it did the job until it closed an hour later. Just enough time to grab a couple more drinks, talk a bit more shit and have a bit of a dance before heading home. Day one of drinking over.
So, where to begin with THIS adventure. Well, maybe at the very beginning, a very good place to start.
It was awesome to see Rach, my great mate from uni all those years ago, when I stepped off the train in Leeds. We later worked out it had been five years since we’d last seen each other. And that’s way too long (so we’ve vowed to make sure the next meeting is within that time frame). Rach had driven from Norwich in north-west England, where she’s currently studying her Masters in International Development and Conflict. She had brought two other ladies with her – a Miss Audrey and a Miss Katie, two Canadians, one of which who studies with Rach in Norwich, and the other who works for a small NGO in genocide prevention.
And so we zoomed off towards The North. That’s actually what it says on the road signs. I figured it was some sort of indescribable region in an upwards direction, so we headed there given that Scotland is north of England (!). After a mammoth drive (merci beaucoup chauffer Rachael) we finally arrived at the now very dark Scottish border for an official picture of our first foray into the country.
Then the challenge was on to find our apartment with all the one way streets. Boo! In the end it wasn’t too hard, and we were delighted to find the apartment located right on the Royal Mile, the main cobblestoned drag through the town, which led directly up to Edinburgh Castle. Perfect! It was on the fourth floor (and the narrow, lighthouse-style stone stairs were a killer) above a great little pub called the World’s End, which soon after we discovered was even better inside with friendly staff and a rad menu. So our night finished after a few wines and an agreement that we shouldn’t get too drunk on our first night, especially with New Year’s coming up and a day of exploring the city to come.
The next day we were out and about exploring Edinburgh. Given how early it gets dark at this time of year, we decided to take on the challenge of reaching Arthur’s Seat, atop a lofty perch overlooking the city. So up we laboured, cameras in hand, stopping extremely often along the way – not only because the light was beautiful and the views of the city were stunning, but because we were already tired! We lost Audrey early on in the piece and after Rach and I decided to make our way to the top we also lost Katie. In the end I was the only one who made it right to the top. But that was ok, it was getting time to cruise back down the mountain and find our fellow comrades.
Some piccies at http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=60796&id=543196685&l=5779fd1fb7
We wandered back down the mountain and around the streets of this beautiful city, admiring the ancient architecture and the way the castle imposed itself at the opposite end of the city to Arthur’s Seat, forebodingly observing the goings-on of the city below. When we eventually made our way back to the Royal Mile we found our friends in a state of already advanced inebriation in a pub across the road, and sat down to polish off a bottle of wine with them. After we’d been kicked out of the pub (not Australia’s fault, it was those rowdy Canadians) we went back to the apartment to drop off Canada and proceeded to grab a nice, relaxing quiet dinner for two before joining a ghost tour. Edinburgh is said to have a gruesome history of burning witches, torture, poverty and other dark secrets and we wanted to find out what these were, as well as where the spirits left behind by these practices were lurking. Unfortunately due to the time of year (and the offer of a free drink at the end), the tour was packed and the company had two concurrent tours going, which meant competition for time and space and a long, annoying wait at the tour’s start for everyone to pay.
Eventually the tour began, with a wander through the streets, a quick history lesson and then into some old, dark and damp vaults which were originally designed for the storage of bulk goods such as tobacco. When this idea failed due to the influx of water through the limestone, the vaults became the hiding place of the homeless, who were not legally allowed to exist on Edinburgh’s streets, and white witches, who practiced their religion in secret to avoid being burned at the stake. The cramped conditions led to poor sanitation, high levels of disease and therefore mortality, and it was the ghosts of the poor that were said to inhabit these vaults. We didn’t see any. Nor was the tour scary in any way – even after the claims that it has featured on numerous TV shows as the most able to prove the existence of ghosts, and the lame and futile attempts of one of the guides to jump out and scare us at the end.
After being quite disappointed with the ghost tour and the shady location of our ‘free drink’, we headed out of the bar on the lookout for something a bit more welcoming. We found quite a dearth of appropriate places, so after stepping into and almost immediately out of a quite shady establishment we resigned ourselves to going back to the apartment, even though we were both clearly up for something a bit more fun.
While walking back down the Royal Mile, we passed a little pub of the same name. Fortuitously someone ahead of us just happened to step inside, and the very rad live music filtering out of the place, for just a moment, was enough to get us straight in there. Great minds think alike. After a while I had acquainted myself with a nice Italian boy and Rach had literally grabbed the arm of a New Zealander posing as a Scotsman – asking him ‘where to next?’ under the impression he was a tour guide – and we had our chaperones for the night.
Roberto had lost his mates a few hours earlier and Pete was up for some more adventures after the pub closed, so the four of us headed out into the cold in search of Grassmarket – a street downtown which was home to more drinking establishments. By the time we got there it was around 2am and the only place we could find was a very Woolshed-like (ugh!) pub-slash-club, but it did the job until it closed an hour later. Just enough time to grab a couple more drinks, talk a bit more shit and have a bit of a dance before heading home. Day one of drinking over.
New Year’s Eve – Up the Kilt!
And so New Year’s Eve arrived. Both Canada and Australia got off to a
sluggish start, but Australia soon took the lead after breakfast and
set off towards the castle, leaving Canada to eat our dust. But
something along the way caught our attention: the Whisky Tasting Centre.
Considering we both like a drink of the stuff we headed inside to see
what it was all about, and promptly booked ourselves onto a whisky
tasting tour. We had a bit of time before it started, and we were
freezing, so we nipped into a cosy little pub and grabbed ourselves a
goblet of red. Probably not the best way to start off a whisky tour and
by the time we were done my head felt considerably lighter, but we made
it inside and learned all about the art of perfecting whisky, followed
by the tasting of a single malt and a blend. This added to that familiar
feeling of light-headedness, and feeling quite happy with ourselves we
headed back through the city the scenic way, setting up our night’s
dinner at a Japanese restaurant and grabbing ourselves a slab of fudge
from the shop up the street. And so we never actually made it to the
castle.
After finding on our return that Canada had been sleeping all afternoon, and a bit of a nanna-nap ourselves, we hotted ourselves up for a big night out at Hogmanay – the reason we had made the pilgrimage here in the first place. Hogmanay is Edinburgh’s famous street party that attracts tens of thousands of revellers every year. And in particular it seemed to attract Aussies and Kiwis in hordes – we were quite disappointed to meet more of them, and other tourists, than Scots themselves.
At dinner we formulated our ‘Up the Kilt Challenge’. Being four females, three of us single, it was always going to be a bit of a boy-chasing weekend, and so we decided we needed a challenge to keep us entertained for the night. Up the Kilt basically involved pashing people (keeping in the tradition of Snogmanay!) according to various categories (someone with a name starting with the same letter as yours, from a country on the other side of the world, someone ten years older or younger than you), getting photos of random things (ie with policemen and if possible, whatever lies (hangs?) beneath Scotsmens’ kilts), stealing things (scarves, hats), getting things from people (condoms, phone numbers) and other juvenile nonsense. Gold in the making…
So, lists in hand, we made our way down to Princes St. First off the mark was Australia, with me approaching the first policemen I saw to ask for a photo. First points to me, yah!!! And then of course we proceeded to the bar to buy beers.
Standing on the street corner at the main intersection, we set up our position for the night – and what a great one it was. We had people streaming past us from three different directions, and didn’t have to move the whole night to meet a lot of fun people from all over the world. In fact there were four different stages playing live music and other entertainment, but we didn’t see any of it because we were having too much fun at our little outpost!
Up the Kilt provided a good conversation starter and soon we had some hilarious conversations going on with random passers-by. When it came to the condom question though, many guys were quite offended and got a bit disgruntled when we asked. Weird! I started talking to an English guy called Tom, who happened to be a health worker – perfect! A person in such a responsible line of work was sure to have a condom. And he did, and even better, he was more than happy to part with it! As well as his phone number. Bonus! So I killed two birds with that stone. Thanks Tom.
In the meantime we had managed to meet a bunch of Americans who were based in Birmingham, working for the US Army and supporting the war in Iraq. Now this was a bit unfortunate for them, but they were all champs and became our mates for the rest of the night (and the next day). Jon, Keith, Dan & Jen were quite amused by Up The Kilt and after an explanation to them, Jon happened to comment that he was more than happy to help out with any point scoring. I didn’t need to be asked twice – Jon was hot, so I pashed him and he became my points for 1. having a name starting with J, and 2. being from the other side of the world. Sweet!
Then, randomly, our Italian friend from the night before, Roberto, happened to walk past with his mates. Next thing I look up and Rach is pashing Roberto! More points to Rach – name starting with same letter, and boy from other side of the world… hehe! In fact Rach and I had a competitive thing going on – Australia vs Australia – as well as with Canada, particularly when it came to attempting to get photos of Scotsmens’ wares.
The worst thing about festivals such as Snogmanay is the toilet line-up. The row of porta-loos stretched all the way to the castle (well that may be a little embellishment of the truth), and the distinction between the line-ups to each one was always blurred… elbows were definitely required! Just in front of us was one of the million Aussies in the place, easily identifiable due to the Australian flag draped over him. I thought he looked like an idiot, so I asked him (rather indignantly I must admit) ‘what are you wearing that flag for?’ He proceeded to get quite pissed off, and said he was proud to be Australian and wanted everyone to know where he was from. Then he told me I was un-Australian for bagging him! The girl in the line in front of me gave me a mouthful as well. Luckily we had reached the front of the queue by then, and escaped a likely tussle with our fellow Australians when Rach shoved me into the porta-loo. Good save!
So then midnight arrived and there were amazing fireworks over Edinburgh castle. By this stage there were plenty of Scots (and pretenders) more than happy to flash us, and then the competitive streak in all of us definitely came out. Someone managed to get some evidence of flashing, but it’s definitely not going on Facebook!
And a little while later, I found out why they call it Snogmanay. Things were winding up and Canada, Australia and America had decided to head back up to town and find somewhere new to party. We were walking up the street just talking crap; I looked up to see a guy walking directly towards us, making a beeline for me; then he was in front of me, and just grabbed me for a pash. Random! My immediate thought was ‘how old is this guy and where is he from?!’ because he looked about 18 – and I thought I might get some points for pashing someone ten years younger than me from the other side of the world :) The latter point, yes, as he was Brazilian – but he was 23, so I lucked out with that one. After solving these two profound mysteries, I decided he was cute and a good kisser, so I pashed him once more before keeping on walking up the hill. The others told me it was like witnessing the embrace of two lost lovers who hadn’t seen each other in years. For me it all happened very fast! Hehe!
And after that brief moment, it was game on! For some reason, my actions were the catalyst for an immediate flurry of point-scoring in the Up the Kilt Challenge. Random pashes were handed out left right and centre. Scots were approached to show us their wares in an attempt to get an elusive photo! On our walk back up the hill towards the tourist strip, I proceeded to grab a hat from a random person’s head and ran off. But almost immediately after legging it up the hill, hearing his surprised shout and then pursuit, I realised it was a futile exercise and stopped in my tracks, sheepishly handing it back to its rightful owner, much to everyone’s amusement. Almost got some points. D’oh!
Eventually we found a nightclub called Espionage and headed inside. The place was huge, and on entry and setting up a spot at the bar, we ran into some Swedes who were busy slurping down their Vodka illusions, and invited us to join in. I think this set the tone for the rest of the night! So much so that at a later point in the night, after moving from our original position, I suddenly realised that we’d left our jackets at the other bar with all my money, phone and other valuables in the pockets, so I ran off to retrieve them all… only to find that I couldn’t find them, and that all four floors of this gigantic place were all exactly the same. I ended up going round and round the floors and staircases and getting more and more worried about my valuables. I finally found the bar and a pile of coats that I thought were ours, and started going through them looking for my wallet, much to the dismay of the people at the bar who thought I was trying to flog their valuables! In the end I finally ran into Rach on one of the floors, and begged her to lead me back to where we were, and where our jackets also were. What a tosser!
After a while we decided we were all hungry and it was time to go home, so we headed out to grab some disgusting – yet strangely satisfying – UK takeaway before heading back. And then the one thing that Jon will never do again, to ask me: “So what are your thoughts on America’s involvement in the war in Iraq?”
And I let loose! I think he was very sorry he asked… but I learned some interesting things about people working in this job: the main one being that they have been completely brainwashed by their government about their duty to protect America’s sovereignty, doing the ‘right thing’ by leading the Iraqi people to democracy (yeah right! I don’t think they tell them about America’s real interests in the country), so much so that they can’t see just how much damage they are doing and how the world views them. But by talking to him I also became more aware of the huge psychological damage that this war has inflicted on America’s soldiers. Something to ponder at 4:30am on the first day of 2009.
After finding on our return that Canada had been sleeping all afternoon, and a bit of a nanna-nap ourselves, we hotted ourselves up for a big night out at Hogmanay – the reason we had made the pilgrimage here in the first place. Hogmanay is Edinburgh’s famous street party that attracts tens of thousands of revellers every year. And in particular it seemed to attract Aussies and Kiwis in hordes – we were quite disappointed to meet more of them, and other tourists, than Scots themselves.
At dinner we formulated our ‘Up the Kilt Challenge’. Being four females, three of us single, it was always going to be a bit of a boy-chasing weekend, and so we decided we needed a challenge to keep us entertained for the night. Up the Kilt basically involved pashing people (keeping in the tradition of Snogmanay!) according to various categories (someone with a name starting with the same letter as yours, from a country on the other side of the world, someone ten years older or younger than you), getting photos of random things (ie with policemen and if possible, whatever lies (hangs?) beneath Scotsmens’ kilts), stealing things (scarves, hats), getting things from people (condoms, phone numbers) and other juvenile nonsense. Gold in the making…
So, lists in hand, we made our way down to Princes St. First off the mark was Australia, with me approaching the first policemen I saw to ask for a photo. First points to me, yah!!! And then of course we proceeded to the bar to buy beers.
Standing on the street corner at the main intersection, we set up our position for the night – and what a great one it was. We had people streaming past us from three different directions, and didn’t have to move the whole night to meet a lot of fun people from all over the world. In fact there were four different stages playing live music and other entertainment, but we didn’t see any of it because we were having too much fun at our little outpost!
Up the Kilt provided a good conversation starter and soon we had some hilarious conversations going on with random passers-by. When it came to the condom question though, many guys were quite offended and got a bit disgruntled when we asked. Weird! I started talking to an English guy called Tom, who happened to be a health worker – perfect! A person in such a responsible line of work was sure to have a condom. And he did, and even better, he was more than happy to part with it! As well as his phone number. Bonus! So I killed two birds with that stone. Thanks Tom.
In the meantime we had managed to meet a bunch of Americans who were based in Birmingham, working for the US Army and supporting the war in Iraq. Now this was a bit unfortunate for them, but they were all champs and became our mates for the rest of the night (and the next day). Jon, Keith, Dan & Jen were quite amused by Up The Kilt and after an explanation to them, Jon happened to comment that he was more than happy to help out with any point scoring. I didn’t need to be asked twice – Jon was hot, so I pashed him and he became my points for 1. having a name starting with J, and 2. being from the other side of the world. Sweet!
Then, randomly, our Italian friend from the night before, Roberto, happened to walk past with his mates. Next thing I look up and Rach is pashing Roberto! More points to Rach – name starting with same letter, and boy from other side of the world… hehe! In fact Rach and I had a competitive thing going on – Australia vs Australia – as well as with Canada, particularly when it came to attempting to get photos of Scotsmens’ wares.
The worst thing about festivals such as Snogmanay is the toilet line-up. The row of porta-loos stretched all the way to the castle (well that may be a little embellishment of the truth), and the distinction between the line-ups to each one was always blurred… elbows were definitely required! Just in front of us was one of the million Aussies in the place, easily identifiable due to the Australian flag draped over him. I thought he looked like an idiot, so I asked him (rather indignantly I must admit) ‘what are you wearing that flag for?’ He proceeded to get quite pissed off, and said he was proud to be Australian and wanted everyone to know where he was from. Then he told me I was un-Australian for bagging him! The girl in the line in front of me gave me a mouthful as well. Luckily we had reached the front of the queue by then, and escaped a likely tussle with our fellow Australians when Rach shoved me into the porta-loo. Good save!
So then midnight arrived and there were amazing fireworks over Edinburgh castle. By this stage there were plenty of Scots (and pretenders) more than happy to flash us, and then the competitive streak in all of us definitely came out. Someone managed to get some evidence of flashing, but it’s definitely not going on Facebook!
And a little while later, I found out why they call it Snogmanay. Things were winding up and Canada, Australia and America had decided to head back up to town and find somewhere new to party. We were walking up the street just talking crap; I looked up to see a guy walking directly towards us, making a beeline for me; then he was in front of me, and just grabbed me for a pash. Random! My immediate thought was ‘how old is this guy and where is he from?!’ because he looked about 18 – and I thought I might get some points for pashing someone ten years younger than me from the other side of the world :) The latter point, yes, as he was Brazilian – but he was 23, so I lucked out with that one. After solving these two profound mysteries, I decided he was cute and a good kisser, so I pashed him once more before keeping on walking up the hill. The others told me it was like witnessing the embrace of two lost lovers who hadn’t seen each other in years. For me it all happened very fast! Hehe!
And after that brief moment, it was game on! For some reason, my actions were the catalyst for an immediate flurry of point-scoring in the Up the Kilt Challenge. Random pashes were handed out left right and centre. Scots were approached to show us their wares in an attempt to get an elusive photo! On our walk back up the hill towards the tourist strip, I proceeded to grab a hat from a random person’s head and ran off. But almost immediately after legging it up the hill, hearing his surprised shout and then pursuit, I realised it was a futile exercise and stopped in my tracks, sheepishly handing it back to its rightful owner, much to everyone’s amusement. Almost got some points. D’oh!
Eventually we found a nightclub called Espionage and headed inside. The place was huge, and on entry and setting up a spot at the bar, we ran into some Swedes who were busy slurping down their Vodka illusions, and invited us to join in. I think this set the tone for the rest of the night! So much so that at a later point in the night, after moving from our original position, I suddenly realised that we’d left our jackets at the other bar with all my money, phone and other valuables in the pockets, so I ran off to retrieve them all… only to find that I couldn’t find them, and that all four floors of this gigantic place were all exactly the same. I ended up going round and round the floors and staircases and getting more and more worried about my valuables. I finally found the bar and a pile of coats that I thought were ours, and started going through them looking for my wallet, much to the dismay of the people at the bar who thought I was trying to flog their valuables! In the end I finally ran into Rach on one of the floors, and begged her to lead me back to where we were, and where our jackets also were. What a tosser!
After a while we decided we were all hungry and it was time to go home, so we headed out to grab some disgusting – yet strangely satisfying – UK takeaway before heading back. And then the one thing that Jon will never do again, to ask me: “So what are your thoughts on America’s involvement in the war in Iraq?”
And I let loose! I think he was very sorry he asked… but I learned some interesting things about people working in this job: the main one being that they have been completely brainwashed by their government about their duty to protect America’s sovereignty, doing the ‘right thing’ by leading the Iraqi people to democracy (yeah right! I don’t think they tell them about America’s real interests in the country), so much so that they can’t see just how much damage they are doing and how the world views them. But by talking to him I also became more aware of the huge psychological damage that this war has inflicted on America’s soldiers. Something to ponder at 4:30am on the first day of 2009.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Och aye! A gorgeous Scottish wedding
Medan, Singapore, Doha, London, Glasgow… Yep, five flights to get to
Scotland, my destination of choice for a three week holiday. Phew! I can
definitely state that I was knackered for a while after that. And
luckily, I didn’t have any trouble with my ear on the plane – perforated
or not – which meant I had plenty of time to find the perfect dress to
wear while in Medan with five hours of waiting for my next plane.
The main reason for going to Scotland: my friends’ wedding. Steph and Jon are two fabulous friends who worked on Simeulue with me. At first I wasn’t really sure why they’d chosen such a chilly place to hold their big day. I arrived at Taychreggan around 8pm on Thursday, after a few hours on the train heading west from Glasgow (oh yeah add a 3 hour train ride to my flight tally), just in time to join the early arrivals for dinner. It was great to see Jon and Steph again – they’d left Simeulue in the middle of the year, but it felt like I’d seen them only yesterday.
The next day revealed exactly why they had chosen this place. Taychreggan is the location of a 300-year-old hotel situated right on the edge of Loch Awe, a gorgeously serene, misty and mysterious lake with perfect reflections of the reds, greys and browns of the countryside around it. And to top it all off, behind the Loch were some lofty hills with a sprinkling of snow. It may have been freezing – especially coming from balmy Indonesia – but it was such a gorgeous location and I could see immediately why they had fallen in love with it.
‘The girls’ spent Friday pampering Steph. Steph’s mum Sue, Lucy, Kari, Fritha, Lindsay and myself took her to the nearby town of Oban, on the west coast, for a manicure and pedicure, while sipping champagne of course. We took off for a bit of looking around the beautiful town and some last minute make-up purchases, while Steph and Kari (childhood best friend and Maid of Honour) got pampered. I was sharing a room in the hotel with Lucy, an English girl who had studied in Australia with Steph. We hit it off straight away and were the only two single girls at the wedding! Friday night the arrived guests shared dinner and drinks around the bar. The boys became quite involved in Scotch whisky tasting with the encouragement of David, the ‘everywhere man’ waiter-barman-“I do everything guy” who was a champion the whole weekend, at our beck and call and delivering everything that everyone asked. He really made life easy for everyone.
Saturday morning was spent busily helping to help Steph get ready (and calm her nerves with champagne and chocolate), decorate the hotel, wrap up the confetti and a whole bunch of other girly things. The boys, of course, went clay pigeon shooting near the Loch – a very manly but appropriate thing to do on the morning of the wedding!
The wedding itself was simple, elegant and beautiful. A string quartet played ‘all you need is love’ as a very nervous Steph almost sprinted down the aisle towards the equally nervous Jon at the altar! Steph’s dress was gorgeous; a white lace halterneck with a flowing silk gown, and a cute, almost 1920’s inspired lace hairpiece that partly covered her face. The marriage celebrant got down to details and it was over almost as soon as it began, the happy couple moving back down the aisle to the applause of the smiling crowd.
At the reception dinner, Kari’s Maid of Honour speech was so lovely that it brought a tear to the eye of everyone in the room (and I’m glad to say her partner Aaron proposed to her shortly after the wedding when they went to Edinburgh. I think his already formed plan, plus her tear-jerking speech, and lots of encouragement from us in the wee hours of the morning convinced him it was a good idea!), and Gareth – Jon’s best man – played the clown in his. Jon’s speech was great because he couldn’t stop referring to Steph as “my wife”. I love love.
After dinner, we all joined in the Ceilidh – traditional Scottish group dancing – which was loads of fun! Half the time we spent just trying to work out what the hell we were doing, and it was hilarious. A number of the guests cracked out their traditional family tartan kilts (even a Frenchman – maybe not so traditional…). There were a lot more drinks at the bar, plus a spot of snooker on a regulation-size table, which took forever but was fun with a couple of whiskies under the belt (sneakily supplied by Gareth in his water bottle) or wearing masks of Jon’s face, which Gareth had made up and distributed for all the boys to wear. Gold!
What I loved most about the wedding was the ‘big family’ atmosphere. I don’t know how many members of the two families and various friends had all met before, but everyone just clicked. Everyone was so lovely, welcoming and easy to get along with and I felt like one of the family. Both Steph and Jon’s relatives were gorgeous. It was also quite a multicultural wedding; Steph’s family being Canadian/Australian, with a number of other family members coming from other countries like France and Russia; Jon’s very traditional English family; plus the group of friends who came from Australia, Canada and England.
Sunday involved some refreshing and much-needed walking around the loch to get to the pub for lunch with the crew who were on their way out. It was great to have the chance to catch up with Jon, Steph and Sue about the wedding and life in general, and to share dinner that night with the remaining family who had so willingly adopted me!
So, by Monday, part one of the adventure was over when Lucy and I reached Glasgow. I was a bit sad to leave, but it had been so awesome to be invited halfway around the world for a wedding, plus I got to meet some great new people. Lucy was a champ and invited me to her place for Christmas, which I gladly accepted! Plus, I had the next instalment of the adventure to look forward to: London.
The main reason for going to Scotland: my friends’ wedding. Steph and Jon are two fabulous friends who worked on Simeulue with me. At first I wasn’t really sure why they’d chosen such a chilly place to hold their big day. I arrived at Taychreggan around 8pm on Thursday, after a few hours on the train heading west from Glasgow (oh yeah add a 3 hour train ride to my flight tally), just in time to join the early arrivals for dinner. It was great to see Jon and Steph again – they’d left Simeulue in the middle of the year, but it felt like I’d seen them only yesterday.
The next day revealed exactly why they had chosen this place. Taychreggan is the location of a 300-year-old hotel situated right on the edge of Loch Awe, a gorgeously serene, misty and mysterious lake with perfect reflections of the reds, greys and browns of the countryside around it. And to top it all off, behind the Loch were some lofty hills with a sprinkling of snow. It may have been freezing – especially coming from balmy Indonesia – but it was such a gorgeous location and I could see immediately why they had fallen in love with it.
‘The girls’ spent Friday pampering Steph. Steph’s mum Sue, Lucy, Kari, Fritha, Lindsay and myself took her to the nearby town of Oban, on the west coast, for a manicure and pedicure, while sipping champagne of course. We took off for a bit of looking around the beautiful town and some last minute make-up purchases, while Steph and Kari (childhood best friend and Maid of Honour) got pampered. I was sharing a room in the hotel with Lucy, an English girl who had studied in Australia with Steph. We hit it off straight away and were the only two single girls at the wedding! Friday night the arrived guests shared dinner and drinks around the bar. The boys became quite involved in Scotch whisky tasting with the encouragement of David, the ‘everywhere man’ waiter-barman-“I do everything guy” who was a champion the whole weekend, at our beck and call and delivering everything that everyone asked. He really made life easy for everyone.
Saturday morning was spent busily helping to help Steph get ready (and calm her nerves with champagne and chocolate), decorate the hotel, wrap up the confetti and a whole bunch of other girly things. The boys, of course, went clay pigeon shooting near the Loch – a very manly but appropriate thing to do on the morning of the wedding!
The wedding itself was simple, elegant and beautiful. A string quartet played ‘all you need is love’ as a very nervous Steph almost sprinted down the aisle towards the equally nervous Jon at the altar! Steph’s dress was gorgeous; a white lace halterneck with a flowing silk gown, and a cute, almost 1920’s inspired lace hairpiece that partly covered her face. The marriage celebrant got down to details and it was over almost as soon as it began, the happy couple moving back down the aisle to the applause of the smiling crowd.
At the reception dinner, Kari’s Maid of Honour speech was so lovely that it brought a tear to the eye of everyone in the room (and I’m glad to say her partner Aaron proposed to her shortly after the wedding when they went to Edinburgh. I think his already formed plan, plus her tear-jerking speech, and lots of encouragement from us in the wee hours of the morning convinced him it was a good idea!), and Gareth – Jon’s best man – played the clown in his. Jon’s speech was great because he couldn’t stop referring to Steph as “my wife”. I love love.
After dinner, we all joined in the Ceilidh – traditional Scottish group dancing – which was loads of fun! Half the time we spent just trying to work out what the hell we were doing, and it was hilarious. A number of the guests cracked out their traditional family tartan kilts (even a Frenchman – maybe not so traditional…). There were a lot more drinks at the bar, plus a spot of snooker on a regulation-size table, which took forever but was fun with a couple of whiskies under the belt (sneakily supplied by Gareth in his water bottle) or wearing masks of Jon’s face, which Gareth had made up and distributed for all the boys to wear. Gold!
What I loved most about the wedding was the ‘big family’ atmosphere. I don’t know how many members of the two families and various friends had all met before, but everyone just clicked. Everyone was so lovely, welcoming and easy to get along with and I felt like one of the family. Both Steph and Jon’s relatives were gorgeous. It was also quite a multicultural wedding; Steph’s family being Canadian/Australian, with a number of other family members coming from other countries like France and Russia; Jon’s very traditional English family; plus the group of friends who came from Australia, Canada and England.
Sunday involved some refreshing and much-needed walking around the loch to get to the pub for lunch with the crew who were on their way out. It was great to have the chance to catch up with Jon, Steph and Sue about the wedding and life in general, and to share dinner that night with the remaining family who had so willingly adopted me!
So, by Monday, part one of the adventure was over when Lucy and I reached Glasgow. I was a bit sad to leave, but it had been so awesome to be invited halfway around the world for a wedding, plus I got to meet some great new people. Lucy was a champ and invited me to her place for Christmas, which I gladly accepted! Plus, I had the next instalment of the adventure to look forward to: London.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)