At the end of our stay in Germany last month, where we explored the ancestral homelands of our parents, we flew from Nuremberg to Edinburgh, Scotland! Why Scotland? Our trip to the lands of our forefathers and mothers wouldn’t have been complete without exploring Perth, the home of the Drummonds, the family of my mother-in-law.
We’d grown accustomed to the neat orderliness of Germany with its flawlessly engineered highway system, rule-following citizens, and commitment to decorum, so our first moments in Scotland were characterized by contrast.
In Germany, our cab driver spoke fewer than a couple dozen words from the airport to the hotel (granted there was a language barrier), but our driver in Scotland barely paused for breath as she asked us about our visit, shared her fascination with genealogy, pointed out sections of town and historical landmarks, and told us about her family! She drove the 8-passenger van effortlessly through the narrow, winding streets and parked against the traffic so that we would not have to cross the street — a much more daring feat in Scotland than in “cross on the signal” Germany.
Our hotel, which was plunked right next to Old Town Edinburgh, was not the polished and poised establishment like those we’d enjoyed in Germany. It wasn’t bad; I’d just say it had the feel of being lived in. The lobby was crowded with folks playing board games and drinking beer. The clerk, instead of being in a suit like our German hosts, was clad in business casual/athleisure wear. She gave us our key, a print out of policies, breakfast times, and local eateries, answered our questions, and went back to reading her book. Our room was fine — a bed, a small couch, a large-ish bathroom, and out the window, an alley littered with spent kegs from the restaurant/bar next door.
We unpacked and made our way down the narrow and winding cobblestone street just a block or two to one of the pubs listed on the hotel handout, Biddy Mulligan’s. At the doorway, we edged past a cluster of cigarette smokers (we saw plenty of smokers in Germany, too!), and wriggled through the crowded restaurant where dozens of folks were crammed in drinking, eating, laughing, and shouting at one another. Surely we’d never find a seat, though it was 6pm on a Sunday. But just as we were giving up hope, a crowded booth emptied out, leaving a graveyard of pint glasses on the sticky table. I slid in to claim the space while my husband gestured to the bartender who handed him 2 menus before he cleared the debris.
We chose our meals, roasted salmon for me and lamb stew for him — both on potatoes with roasted vegetables. Absolutely delicious. I even enjoyed a Scottish beer — the first beer I’ve had in ages due to my gluten sensitivity –I savored every single drop while live music played from the back of the bar.
We were just a few hours into Scotland, and though the culture shift was palpable, we were delighted!
As we did in Germany, we dedicated our first full day to driving. We rented a car — a Jeep SUV because it was the only automatic transmission in the place and though we both know how to drive a stick, we knew we’d be driving on the opposite side of the road all day and wanted to limit the variables. The car rental was four floors below ground in a parking garage, and John’s initiation to driving in Scotland was staying on the left as he wound up those levels to daylight and straight onto the busy, narrow streets of Edinburgh. With rush hour traffic and road construction, it took us a while to traverse the city, take the Queensferry Crossing over the Firth of Forth, and enter the countryside north of Edinburgh on our way to Perth.
The Scottish countryside is stunning — rolling hills, scattered farms, sheep, lakes, more sheep, mountains, and did I mention sheep? We drove far enough west and north to see the mountains, and then headed east to Perth where we walked through the very walkable shopping district, and had a bit of lunch — soup and a toastie, which is what the Scots call a grilled ham and cheese sandwich, and a scone, of course.
We stood next to the River Tay, which runs through Perth.
We then followed the river’s path to Dundee, where we saw the River Tay flow into the North Sea, smelled the salt air, then made our way back to Edinburgh, dropped off our rental car, and got a delicious dinner.
I am making this journey sound easy, but it was anything but. I was the co-pilot, which was the easy part, even though we kept losing our signal and sometimes didn’t know where we were. (Yes, we did have a paper map with us! ) My husband was the real trooper — driving an American-style vehicle on ancient, narrow, poorly-marked, winding country roads, on the left side of the street, from the right side of the car! And, I haven’t even mentioned the very frequently-placed roundabouts with anywhere from three to infinity exits that run in the opposite direction of the ones we are familiar with in the states! Driving in the UK on the eighth day of our European vacation was a courageous feat!
So, his fish and chips and my skink, a creamy Scottish stew with smoked haddock, potatoes, and onions, was a real comfort food treat at the end of a long and, at times, stressful day!
Our second day in Scotland, we walked the streets of Edinburgh — one street in particular, the Royal Mile. This highly travelled street runs from the Edinburgh Castle at the top, down a long incline to the Palace of Holyroodhouse, the Scottish residence of the King of England. The cobblestone path is lined on both sides with shops — gifts, kilts, food, whiskey, tea, etc. We went in countless stores looking for Drummond of Perth plaid and woolen sweaters. Between shops, we enjoyed the street performers — vocalists, bag pipers, and other entertainers who weren’t the list bit deterred by the seemingly continuous rain.
After a brief afternoon rest, we walked again, several blocks, down Princess Street to Castle Street to see where my husband’s great grandfather once worked as a cobbler in the shadow of the castle.
How amazing to picture him there, over a hundred years ago!
We wound our way back through the Princess Street Gardens, a beautiful place that reminded us of Forest Park in St. Louis and The Common in Boston, returned to our hotel, and collapsed into sleep.
On our last day in Scotland, despite the rain, we took a train to Glasgow, enjoying the views of the countryside again — rolling hills, sheep, town after town, and finally the city. We disembarked, explored the shopping district, had a lovely lunch in a small cafe, then walked our drippy selves back to the station, boarded the train, had one last delicious meal in Edinburgh — roasted lamb and chicken this time — and prepared our bags for our long journey home.
When our driver picked us up early the next morning, we shared our experiences with him, a man who’s lived his life in Scotland. With each tale we shared, he smiled and remarked, “Aye!” as if to say, “Yup, that’s how it is here!”
Scotland, we found you to be hearty, unbothered, celebratory, and friendly. Your land — gorgeous. Your food — delicious!
What a gift it was to visit, and though we don’t know if we’ll ever be back, Scotland you are part of us now. Aye!
You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands. Isaiah 55:12
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