European wanderlust continues

Cow and sheep intestines? Whoa. Staring at your Google search with astonishment, you exclaim, “going with the flow is a gross understatement!”  You’re not sure that ‘pushing your boundaries’ on vacation includes eating like you’re on Survivor.

It’s your last night in Paris, and until this point, you were happy to not have Internet on your cell. TMI…damn wifi at this fancy pants hotel. Yesterday, you moved across the river to Saint Germain, an area of Paris famous for it’s rich intellectual history, rich shopping and of course, a certain sweet liqueur that blends nicely with Champaign.

Setting aside the frightening thoughts of Scottish delicacies, you let your palette warm to the famously French taste of Laduree lavender macaroons, pleasantly placed on your pillow for when you arrived. Draw a bath, soak your tired feet in bubbles for a spell, and shimmy into a sharp outfit for the night. Midnight in Paris –here we come!

Thanks to the marvels of social media, you connected to distant relatives in Paris and are off to visit with them tonight. Rumor has it they’re fabulous, so you bound off into the streetlights to their neighborhood for a semi-traditional French feast. Overwhelmed with excitement, you’re a bit early, so you pop into one of the many art galleries in the fourth arrondissement – a French word for neighborhood.  Marvel at the offering and then head up to the top floor of their building, on a small, crowded street. You’re greeted with warm smiles and offer up wine from yesterday’s wine tasting at O Chateau, a wine bar.

Conversation at dinner flows beautifully, and it gives you a chance to ask all the little questions about Parisian life that you’ve collected over the past few days. You learn about the film industry and art world of Paris, the school system (according to a sharp, engaging 10-year-old) and what if feels like move to Paris after being raised in America. What a story! Leaving their home, your mind wanders to their beautiful view of the lively city below, and you start imagining yourself settling into this place indefinitely…

Glancing at your watch, there’s just enough time to find a cab driver crazy enough to get you to the Moulin Rouge. Originally, this place was scratched off the list because, I mean really, how cliché can you get? However, the thought of scantily clad entertainers strutting about and singing seems oh-so-gay and a MUST! A hurried attendant rushes you to the front row, in a snap, chilled Champaigne is being poured and the lights are dimming for the show.  Gorgeous women, flamboyant muscular men, and showy costumes… far more refined than expected, but a perfectly risqué way to end a Paris journey.

“Pardon?”

You estimate that your Scottish cab driver is about 112 years old, and he chuckles at you. Deliberately slowing down his speech (and letting you know he’s doing so), he asks where you’re from, in a slightly more understandable dialect. You’ve arrived in Glasgow, a city known for it’s industrial heritage and less touristy action – it’s quirky and homey. It’s a dreary night, but your body welcomes it. Something soothing about the rain, you roll into Anniesland for the night, a welcoming town on the outskirts of the city.

The next morning, you mix a bowl of muesli by combining fresh grains, dried fruit and cold, thick milk. Everything here feels hearty and whole. Tea, we don’t make tea like this in the states. The sky is overcast, but that doesn’t matter when you’re greeted with a lush green morning in winter. It’s off to the train station for a quick ride into Central, before hopping commuter to Edinburgh for the day. Everything moves slower here, a calming pace that hugs your soul and reminds you to be a little less pretentious.

It’s lunchtime in Edinburgh, and your eyes are a bit dizzy from trying to count all the sheep and stone cottages on the ride over from Glasgow.  This train situation is IMPRESSIVE compared to the limitations of Denver’s lightrail. You could go your whole life here without a car!

Edinburgh looks like a land far far away, featured in the pages of some book about princesses in puffy dresses with talking pets. Trippy. You walk past the famous Balmoral Hotel, home to the Queen when she decides to descend from her cloud to grace her beloved Scotia. It’s breathtaking – next visit, book that hotel! Your sister entertains all your silly questions about what’s what, as you spin around and point at everything, “What’s THAT!?” In the near distance, the Edinburgh Castle sits proudly overlooking the river. Apparently, the first reference of this behemoth fortress was in 600 AD… and we think the Brown Palace is old?!  Staring in sheer astonishment, you stumble across the bridge, almost running into easy strolling pedestrians.

Turning the corner into Old Town Edinburgh, you funnel into The Waverly pub for lunch.  The booth at the back of the bar offers up a view of the river thorough an arched window. Ordering a Tennents beer and beef stew and dumplings, you can’t help but laugh at the difference a day makes. “I think I’ll have the haggis,” your vegetarian sister says, and you gasp! What?! “Vegetarian haggis, of course, with neeps and tatties.” Seriously? The table erupts with laughter. If you were to ask a Scot what they think of when you say, neeps and tatties, they would launch into a nostalgic ode to eating turnips and potatoes as a hearty meal throughout their lives.  To the American ear, it sounds a bit porno.

You walk over cobblestone, and dart in and out of charming Scottish shops. The sun starts to set too early for your liking and you ascend up the hill towards that castle. Bummed to learn that’s it’s closing early, you cheer up by checking out the view overlooking the whole city. The streetlights are just coming on and you understand fully why someone would choose this very spot to build a mansion—it’s enchanting and envelops you.

On the train ride back to Glasgow, you chuckle at the guys gambling over a game that looks like poker, and a table covered with Scottish brews. They’re loud, have charming accents and hollow belly laughs.

Morning comes and you head to campus to see one of the world’s most beautiful universities. Honestly, this place is Hogwarts, where’s Mr. Potter and Dumbledore. The stone buildings are heavy and softened by delicate green moss. The day is lightening up and your excited for the journey to northern Scotland’s small coastal town of Fife – home of St. Andrews, the worlds first Golf Course.

The train ride is long, but relaxing. Catching up on reading for the first time in days, you handle a small promotional pamphlet on the town of Fife. Hell, this is where Will met Kate (See, there! All those gossip rags you read while getting your pedis are paying off!). Nothing can prepare you for how green and manicured the vast distance of the fairway is… it’s marvelous. With your travel companion preoccupied with shopping for a perfect holiday gift, you walk down towards the waterfront and take in the miles of coastline before you. A decrepit sign posted on the rocks reads “Danger,” and this moment feels so very far away from dangerous. However, you’ve let yourself be present. Letting go of the details of a journey, the commitments that loom in the future, you spend a dangerously delicious moment in silence… oh, Scotland.