Scotland Reflections: Big And Small

 

The weather in Scotland can be unpredictable, rain almost a given, and yet my eight days there were filled with sunshine, while the air at home was thick with smoke from nearby forest fires. I was lucky to escape the unhealthy air here (especially given my history of mild asthma) and step into weather so perfect.

In a nutshell, the logistics: I was in Glasgow for three nights, took a day-trip to Edinburgh by train, then on to Inverness where I stayed one night before joining a two-day/one night bus tour (16 of us) to the Isle of Skye. Back to Inverness for a night after the tour, one night in Perth, and last night in Glasgow before flying home. Quite a whirlwind as I generally like to stay in places for more than a single night.

Quairing

Travel is a luxury, I get it. For me though, travel is more than a nice escape from the daily routine. It is a necessary part of my MO, feeding my spirit of adventure and desire to roam. Not only do I discover new places, cultures, food, museums, beautiful vistas, but I also discover things about myself. And isn’t that part of why we travel?

Since I usually travel alone, the start of every trip comes with excitement and anticipation as well as some apprehension: what if something goes wrong; what if I get sick; how will I find my way to all my accommodations, train and bus stations etc. etc. And yet, I’ve done this all before, on my own, many, many times. So why do those same concerns arise every time?

And then, when I’m in a new city, step off a bus or train, look around, get my bearings, find my way to my hotel, I’m reassured once again that I’m good at this! I can do it, and I do it well.

Once I’ve recovered from jet-lag, I’m ready to explore. I find that when I’m somewhere new, I’m a slightly different version of myself than when I’m home. I want to see and do and walk as much as I can, take it all in. Even when tired, one more interesting-looking street always beckons. At the end of the day, my feet are throbbing, but I’m content.

Why do I set myself such a blistering pace when I’m exploring? I’m not the type who wants a lie-on-the-beach kind of holiday, although I do enjoy a lot of lying on the couch and reading while I’m home.

Travelling can be expensive and I like to eat adventurously and well, so I try to book modest accommodation to keep costs down. On this trip I had a variety: my nights in Glasgow were comfortable suites, but my two nights in Inverness were in teeny-tiny rooms in very basic guesthouses. On the second night (when I returned from Skye), my bathroom, although private and for my use only, was not actually IN my room but just outside.

The tour booked my overnight accommodation in Portree, Skye. I was expecting a modest B&B. But I was delightfully surprised when it turned out to be a gorgeous big room with sitting area and two windows looking out onto the bay. I was the only guest there and the owner, (a lovely woman named Dot), brought a full hot breakfast to my room the next morning.

My room in Portree

*

It turns out – I like comfy! A lot. I enjoyed being in that luxurious setting, having food brought to me on a tray, being spoiled. When I returned to Inverness to the teeny-tiny room with the rail tracks outside my window and bathroom outside my door, I was disappointed.

So, what kind of traveller did that make me? I hoped not one who needed too much coddling, not one more enamoured with the comfort and luxury inside a room than with the world of wonder that exists outside.

The Isle of Skye was breathtakingly beautiful and the highlight of my trip. Sweeping, dramatic vistas, craggy cliffs, roaming sheep, a castle – everything I imagined Scotland to be.  

On a poetry podcast I listened to, it said there is more glory in a single temporary dewdrop as there is in the power of kings. There is something about being small rather than being dominant.

I felt small in Scotland.

Up on the highlands of Quairing, the magnificent views could be reached only via a narrow one-track road that is open to two-way traffic, with vehicles needing to pause and pull over to let oncoming cars through. Lots of vehicular side-stepping and shuffling, but everyone managed to get up the mountain and back down, with some drivers kindly nodding a “It’s your turn” even when it wasn’t. It took co-operation, patience, consideration, a good attitude and trust in others on the road alongside you. Kind of like travelling. Kind of like life.

I felt small again walking the Fairy Pools trail, grand mountains in the distance, the waterfalls and pools low in water because of the lack of rain, but dancing in the sunlight.

Fairy Pools Trail

I felt small in front of Loch Ness, the waves making it look more like a sea than a lake.

And small again amidst the storied history of Dunvegan Castle, and while wandering through its many gardens: the walled garden, the waterfall garden, the rhododendron garden and others whose names I’ve forgotten.

I felt small while walking through Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum, housed in an architectural masterpiece and displaying an astonishingly extensive collection of artifacts and art. I stood in front of Egyptian objects dating from BC and wondered who were those people who made them, what lives they led. But I also wondered whether those pieces should be there, in that museum, rather than in the country from where they were taken. And I pondered those same thoughts in the Museum of Religion before seeing a notice above an empty display stand stating that the object had been repatriated.

Kelvingrove 

I felt small while wandering through the Necropolis in Glasgow with its ornate, massive headstones dating back hundreds of years, engraved with the names of people whose lives were so different from mine. What did they know that I do not now? What do I know that they did not?

When travelling abroad where no one knows you and you are just another wandering nobody, your insignificance can open your eyes to what you haven’t seen before.

We aspire towards the observation of little things, the magic in the smallness of everyday. We debate not losing our power and staking a claim to it. But there are times when all we need is to become small ourselves and watch the world go by as if it has no need of our presence. 

Because the truth is, it doesn’t.

Dunvegan

*

And after you travel abroad, you return home. I will never tire of that ‘coming home’ feeling, which I’ve written about before. It always holds a moment of deep appreciation and belonging. But it’s a feeling you can only experience if you leave.

 

 

Isle of Skye

Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh

Isle of Skye

Fairy Pools