FIKA

Scotland Part II: Train journey, Edinburgh

I was meant to spend time in Edinburgh with my two wonderful roommates next year, Andrea and Chanel, but circumstances led to yet another solo adventure (Though I’m confident us three will conquer the world one day).

I intentionally wanted to take the train from Mallaig to Fort William, then over to Edinburgh. I had read about this famous journey, and I was also excited since the bridge that it goes passed is from Harry Potter.

I woke up at 6am and got to watch the sunrise as the train weaved in and out of the rolling hills. My eyes were glued to the window and I couldnt help smiling the whole time.

When I arrived in Edinburgh, I fell in love with the city of castles on hills, friendly people, amazing food, chilly weather and the overall welcoming vibe.

I met a boy named Phil while wandering the streets, trying to avoid a few drunk idiots at 4pm. we casually started talking as I asked to walk next to him to escape the situation and one thing led to another, and he invited me to a Rugby game at a near by pub with his PhD bound physics friends. I had to laugh at how random and awesome the situation was. We enjoyed a beer, the Morris dancers outside, and a crowded pub of Rugby fans. By the end, even I was cheering. They all invited me along to a University of Edinburgh bar called “The Library” later that night. I was grateful for the instant welcoming of the random girl wandering around the city. I left and headed to grab a late night bite to eat at The Elephant House (where J.K.Rowling wrote the Harry Potter series!) and thanked the boys for being awesome.

The next day I went to the local farmers market and craft fair. I stopped at each stand and had samples, chatting with the locals and left even happier than I was to begin with (and I was already ecstatic!). Everyone was giving me things to take along my journey and wished me the best of luck.

Later that evening, I met up with a girl named Yimin from South Korea that I had met in the hostel earlier that day. We enjoyed a beer and a shot of Sambuca (She was 26 and had never had a shot. It was a must) and chatted throughout the evening about her stay in London, Korea, and everything in between. We instantly became friends and were cracking up the whole time as we enjoyed the good music and vibe of the bar.

All and all, even though my trip went nothing as planned, it was probably one of my favorite experiences, ever. It was an unplanned adventure, I met amazing people, talked to myself a few times and finally got 100% comfortable in my own skin. I wouldn’t trade that experience for anything in the world.

I head to Portugal on Wednesday to meet up with some friends from Charleston, and I hope that it brings just as many laughs and unexpected turns as Scotland did.

With love from the girl who never wants to leave Europe,

Scotland Part I (Glasgow, Mallaig, Isle of Rum)

This is not a blog post, but a short story.

My intent was to travel to Scotland, visiting the Isle of Skye to do a bit of exploring by myself, take the Harry Potter train (#nerdalert), then venture down to Glasgow/Edinburgh to meet up with a few friends, but seeing as though this was my first solo adventure, I should have known better than to expect it would go exactly as planned.

I’ll do my best to paint a picture of what happened through words and photos. I have posted a few already below in categories based on where I was, but they are (excuse my language) fucking beautiful, and deserve to be shown over and over again. Scotland is an amazing, untouched alcove of the most welcoming, friendly, accommodating collective group of people that I’ve encountered in, well, ever. Hopefully you’ll get a better feel for why I fell in love by the end of my adventure.

Glasgow showered me with warm rain and soft hums of an accordion weaving in and out of the streets. I was lucky enough to spend a few hours wandering around, popping in and out of the free museums. Late that night I hopped on a train to Mallaig, a small city in the north of Scotland. It was my in-between before heading to Skye for a day. I enjoyed slouching back on the train seats, watching the mountains stream by, sun fade, and my eyes droop until I fell into a deep sleep.

I arrived late at a quaint B&B and was greeting by a crazy eyed man missing a tooth, wrapped in a sky blue robe. He hustled me upstairs, pointed to my room and went back to sleep, leaving me to silently creep in as to not to awake the other “backpackers”.

I made a last minute decision to head to the Isle of Rum instead of Skye, seeing as it would allow me to spend more hours on an isle, and would let me overlook both Skye, Eigg, and Canna (Other isles throughout Scotland) Seeing as though I was alone, two girls from London instantly included me in on their breakfast of jam toast and english tea, chatting about their three week bike adventure and helping me decide where I should visit. I hopped on the ferry a few hours later and embarked on what I imagined to be a day excursion.

Once on the Isle of Rum, I realized how small it was:

Population: 27

Things to do: Hike

Places to stay: Castle (or a caravan) 

Eat/Shop: Community store, post office, and town hall all in one building

Fast forward to the end of my wandering the isle and I’m running to the ferry. Sprinting, panicking, wondering what I was going to do as it started to sail off. I humbly admit that I can’t read 24 hour time and got the ferry timetable misunderstood.

A man named David from London who was in charge of Kinlock Castle swung around in his bright yellow van to pick me up. He told me not to panic because although the ferry didn’t come for another two days (I only had the clothes on my back and a camera) he had a spare bed in the castle (converted hostel) that I would be sharing with some gentlemen working on an eco toilet. I sulked over a “cuppa” tea, and thought about my stupidity. After the kind people who worked in the castle comforted me and helped cancel future arrangements, I got over myself and decided to make the best of my unintended adventure.
(I hope at this point you’re shaking your head and laughing at how ridiculous this story is.)

Word of “the girl who missed the ferry” spread throughout the village fast and people offered their help in any way that they could. A particularly kind girl around my age showed up at the castle with a bag in hand and a big grin, handing me some extra pants, shirts, homemade soap, a book, and other necessities to make my stay more comfortable.

Claire, who ran the tea house and was a chef at the castle, made my stay absolutely amazing. She even took the shoes off her feet when I was talking about how I wished I could do proper hiking. You could tell that she (along with everyone else) was so happy to help out in whatever way possible, it was heartwarming. Below is her yurt. When we exchanged addresses, I had to laugh at hers being, “Claire, Isle of Rum, Yurt 2”

That night I became friends with James and Michael from London. (They were the gentlemen working on the Eco Toilet) They are absolutely hilarious and counting me as one of the “dudes” instantly as we enjoyed a three course meal and some cider in the castle. I mentioned how I wanted to wake up at sunrise and conquer the six hour hike to the other side of the isle, and Michael instantly said yes (Dear James needed his beauty rest). We woke up at 5:38 and watched the sun rise as the roosters crowed synonymously.

The hike was filled with horses, goats, cows, birds, beautiful houses, rolling hills, cliffs and clear blue water, and the best part being the grandiose mountains which held an absolute silence. I couldn’t stop smiling.

Michael, the successful architect, builder, creator, and funny guy was great company. I couldn’t have been happier that he decided to come along on the journey with me. As we finally made it to the other side of the island and ate our cheese sandwichs looking over the hills, it felt like we had known each other for years.

When we finally ventured back our feet were so sore and our legs tired (well, mine were at least) we enjoyed a cup of tea as we sat there, daydreaming of the adventure. We all caught the ferry that night back to Mallaig and said our goodbyes. I will definitely be paying those two a visit in London.

This short story isn’t over yet, though I believe it’s as long as a blogpost should be. Scotland 2.0 continues on the next post. Hopefully you’re interested enough to keep reading!

With love,

Have you ever been asked the question, “What are three adjectives you would use to describe yourself?” I find that question a bit ridiculous, because answering it is completely circumstantial. Your choices will vary depending on if it’s for your dream job, filling out an online dating survey, or a random questionnaire that someone thrusts at you on the street.

But have you ever asked yourself? A completely biased, strictly personal opinion of how you see yourself. Choosing three words that you believe embody who you are…

I don’t believe it’s possible to sum up a human in three words, but I find it a fun challenge to try to choose only a few to describe myself.

When thinking about my stay in Groningen, it is an impossible task to choose a mere three words to describe the experience. Groningen itself is a melting pot of people and ideas, but attempting to consolidate my life in Europe is even more difficult.

The people I’ve met, experiences I’ve had, my ever-changing mind set and perceptions cannot even begin to have justice shown through photos, but it’s the only way I know how to share and document them.