Days 16 and 17: It's not the leaving of Liverpool that grieves me

I am typing this in the lobby of a Dublin hotel.  We're leaving Ireland tomorrow for home and we should be home by 8 or so tomorrow night.  We left Westport this morning on the train.  If you know me well, you'd be proud of me and perhaps a little incredulous when I tell you that I didn't shed a tear until the Claremorris station.  I'd hoped to make it out of County Mayo before shedding a tear but Claremorris is respectable.  I'm not going to count the lump in my throat when I closed the door to the apartment this morning.  Or the tears now lodged in my eyes that I'm hoping the man over there thinks are caused by allergies to some sort of Dublin specific pollen in the air.  Unfortunately, I fear he thinks I'm getting dumped online; he's trying not to look.  Nothing to see here sir, just some pollen in the air.  Please carry on with your Candy Crush and your odd atonal singing of My Funny Valentine. 

Yesterday after writing in the cafe next to our apartment and having a fantastic scone, we went for a long walk.   It was our last day in Westport and we wandered familiar places and then spied a road we'd not taken.  We ended up in an area of Westport we'd not been in before yet we could see familiar spaces from new vantage points: there's the Greenway, there are those cows we can see from this road, there's the spot where we stop sometimes on our way into town.  There's probably a nice metaphor in there about seeing the familar in new ways before you leave.  Maybe I'll tease that out later.  

Last night, we met J&D for drinks and dinner at two of our favourite places.  We ended the evening at our favourite pub.  We laughed and laughed.  I would tell you more but I swore to DC that "what happens at Hoban's stays at Hoban's."  Specifics aside, I know the warmth, friendliness, and laughter of the people there and the place will stay with me a very long time.  Our goodbyes to various people were about when not if we'd return.  We will be back: this is a very special place for us.

This morning, J&D were sweet enough to take us to the train station (as they did last year).  They'd also packed us some Cokes, Mr Taytos and canned fish.  And they waited with us until our train left, waving and smiling in the sunshine.  Even if I didn't take a picture of them beside the Westport station sign, the image of them smiling there would be long lodged in my mind.  It wasn't lost on me that they stood beside the same Westport station sign that I looked at last February when we arrived and thought "oh, I hope we've made the right decision."  

The process of saying goodbye to this place is also a process of reconnecting with our lives in Windsor.  And while there are many things I am going to miss here, I have missed many things at home acutely: my friends and my cats, my neighbourhood, my baseball team, my bed, my running route, my routine, my city, my dance class, my garden, my other clothes and shoes, my shower, my Mrs Darcy tea mug, my car, my confidence in knowing which way to look for traffic when I cross the road.  I'm feeling more than a little blessed to feel love for/ loved in different places in the world.  Any sadness I feel at leaving is tempered with happiness that comes from having had such a wonderful trip and having a nice life to return to in Windsor.  

This morning when I woke up, the sun was bright and the sky was a brilliant nearly cloudless blue.  The top of Croagh Patrick was clearer than I'd ever seen it.  As the song says, 

Oh the sun is on the harbour, love,

And I wish that I could remain,

For I know that it will be a long, long time,

Before I see you again

[But I will see you again...]

Oh, and, yes, sir, across the lobby, there is a mighty potent pollen in Dublin tonight.  Allergies.  Or something like that.  Anyway, thanks a million readers for visiting the Cafe these past two plus weeks.  It's been fun to travel with you. Much love,  XO, H

Day 15: An Ordinary Day in Westport is Perfectly Special

Friday night, after I wrote, we went walking in the sunshine.  It stays late here until around 10:15 and we headed out of the Quay away from town.  We walked out to a pub we'd been to last spring.  We had seen signs for it on our walks and went out one night to find it on foot.  We got part of the way there and were enveloped by total darkness on the roadside.  The sidewalk disappeared and we couldn't see the pub or anything else.  We headed back and ate somewhere else that night.  In the daylight, we saw where the sidewalk picked up and were glad we'd not pursued our journey that night.  We went back one night and I remember writing in my journal at the bar.  It was cold outside but the pub was warm and the soup very fine.  The lights were soft like candle light. Aside from the TV in the corner, you'd be hard pressed to see yourself in the present day.  We headed home that night enveloped in the dark: edging along the road in the rain, overcompensating for the few cars that passed us.  It was a lovely, lovely night.

Friday night was sunny and bright and the light that shone made the greens vibrant and lush.  We decided to go out to the same pub, marveling in the sunshine.  I spied a lovely donkey grazing in a field surrounded by thick hedges of pink roses.  Croagh Patrick almost sparkled in the magic hour sun.  We had bowls of what we think is the best seafood chowder in town and wandered back the winding road, remembering how we'd edged along the road in the cold, wet dark. 

A new pub had opened in our absence-- or, maybe, more accurately, an old pub re-opened.  They had a large patio overlooking the bay.  Croagh Patrick blinked in the brightness.  Dale likes to take pictures of "the perfect pint," perfection having to do with the place and setting of the pint as much as the beer itself.  Here's my take on the perfect pint.  We sat and took it all in.  We didn't say much but when we did, it was about gratitude and wonder. 

On Saturday, we slept in a bit, I went for a run, Dale went for a walk on the Greenway.  We had breakfast and went out to read and have a coffee at the cafe next to our apartments.  The proprietoress remembered us: always nice to be reminded that this isn't all a dream.  In the afternoon we read our new Irish books in our airy apartment with the windows open to the lovely fresh air and the bleating of sheep.  At one point a crow the size of a well-fed tom cat was on the verge of hopping into our apartment from our balcony.  I persuaded him it was a bad idea.  I'm reading Fallen by Lia Mills, beautiful and heartbreaking.  Dale is reading Donal Ryan's The Thing About December.  

After a lovely lazy afternoon, we met our friends D & J at the bay-side pub we'd been to on Friday.  We laughed and teased each other.  Meeting them last year and reconnecting with them this year is something for which we're both incredibly grateful.  From there, a nice dinner at one of our other haunts from last year and then pints at one of our favourite pubs from last time.  The people are kind, warm, friendly and jaggedly funny.  The four of us seemed to take turns noting that it seemed like no time at all had passed since last year. Behind the bar this pub has postcards from various visitors, and when we got home, we mailed one.  It was pretty cool to hold our postcard in our hands.  When we sent it, I know we were both wondering if we'd ever return and if we did return, if we'd be able to recapture the magic of our first visit.  If I could send a postcard back to our last year selves, I think it would say "worry not... it wasn't all a dream." We ended the night listening to a man singing country music at another favourite place.  D & J requested that he play Galway Girl for the visiting Canadians.   J pushed me and D out on the dance floor and we jived to one of the last songs of the night.  I told J earlier in the night:  "I am a very happy Heidi."   And a very happy Heidi I am.  

Yesterday, Saturday, was the summer solstice.  I was once told that you should always do something special on the Solstice and I've tried to take that advice each year.  This year, I think I did do something very special indeed. 

Day 14: Walking in Westport

When I was walking in [Westport]

I was walking with my feet ten feet off of [the Greenway]

Walking in [Westport]

But do I really feel the way I feel?

[Sorry to Marc Cohn, I like your song about Memphis but once I wrote the title of today's blog, I kind of had to rewrite your lyrics. I've also enjoyed walking in Memphis, for different reasons than the ones described below]  

Last spring there were three ways into town: the town way, the Greenway (a great treed walking trail) and the park way.  One of my happiest memories from our time here last spring was running through the park and I couldn't wait to do that run.  I was excited to head out this AM and was moving along the road at a good clip when I discovered a fence has been put up blocking the best part of the park.  It now costs 5 euro to get in.  It's all sort of understandable but I'm pretty disappointed.  Ah well. Tomorrow I will run on the Greenway. 

One of the things Dale and I loved about being in Westport was how much we walked.  We walked, in part, because we didn't have a car while we were here.  But we also walked because it was such a walkable place and walking makes you think about the space you're in in different ways.  I know I don't walk as much as I should in Windsor and I have been bad on last year's resolve to walk more.  

Last spring, we walked into town just about every day, and often more than once a day.  It's about 5k round trip.  Sometimes we walked or ran alone, but mostly together.  When we walked, sometimes we talked through our morning's writing or reading, sometimes we talked about other things, other times we didn't say anything.  Walking is as good for the mind and soul as it is for the body. 

We don't have a lot planned for our time here: mostly just reconnecting with people and places.  Today we walked the Greenway and remembered why we loved it.  One of the things I loved about walking in Westport last spring was that i got to see all sorts of new spring things coming to life.  I saw baby lambs and new birds (like the thoroughly adorable Stonechat http://youtu.be/nEOQ2JfznAk)  Every day there was some new green thing or something that was getting bigger or changing. Unlike spring in Canada, where suddenly trees have leaves and grass becomes green. spring here seemed thoughtful, methodical and incremental.  I remember tulips and daffodils blooming for weeks, maybe because the climate is gentler in a range of ways, and things that looked like they'd bloom tomorrow holding off for weeks.  On this trip, there are lots of summer plants blooming on the Greenway  In many ways it's the same Greenway but it's also very different because there are new flowers and plants.  

Here are some of the new flowers I've seen.  I have fantastic intentions to research and label them but we shall see:  

Day 13: Westport Bound (in more ways than one)

Before I fell asleep last night, I was thinking about a conversation I had with an older man in a pub last time we were here.  He wouldn't accept my claim that you can miss a place or a landscape.  He said, "You can only miss people, never a place."  But he had never left Ireland. 

 

In my blog yesterday I referred to our first Dublin-Westport train trip last February, where I was nervously hoping we'd done the right thing.  Yesterday on our train trip, I was excited to be heading back to Westport but was also a little nervous: was it really as wonderful and lovely as we'd remembered it? Were we over-romanticizing it?  One glimpse of the town from the taxi window told me it was everything we'd remembered it to be.  We were welcomed back by the kind inn staff and our room had been upgraded to a top floor harbour view room.  My iPhone picked up the wireless like an old friend.  The feel of the key in the lock, the weight of the door in my hands, the sound of the wooden floors were all beautifully familiar.  We put our things where we stored them last year and went out to buy a few groceries.  Walking to the grocery store, our feet were on autopilot and once at the store, I remembered where everything was shelved.  I couldn't recall what it was but I remembered there was a snack I liked on a particular shelf and went to look for it: aha: organic dark orange and chocolate rice cakes (80 calories: "organics for the real world").  On the way back from the grocery, I remembered where a neat little bit of graffiti had been and was happy to see it was still there.  We put in a load of laundry last night: to confirm how little has changed, we are still baffled by this odd combination washer dryer.  Although there are probably better ways to do this, a small load takes 2 hours and comes out steamy but not dry (wondering if one could also make rice in this machine?).  But no matter: I can't tell you how happy I am to be writing at the same dining room table as I wrote at last spring, though with a harbour view this time and Croagh Patrick viewable from our little balcony.  

While it was wonderful to connect with all the tangible, physical, concrete things of Westport and our lives here last spring, perhaps the best part of our return last night was connecting with our friends D and J.  It seemed like no time at all had passed.  We had a few drinks, went for Indian food that we've been craving for months, stopped at another couple of pubs, heard some music, and laughed a lot.  J posted a picture of us at dinner last night and commented that it all "just felt so right."  It really did.  Last night was the first time I've had a full night's sleep since we left Windsor two weeks ago.  Maybe it's because it feels so much like home.  

Day 12: Farewell to Scotland, Hello to Ireland

Sorry this is late.  I handwrote this last night and am transcribing it on the train to Westport, adding a bit here and there.  And I'm going to use Dale's photos: I was feeling photographically lazy yesterday and his are cool.

Today's entry likely won't amount to much since today was mostly a travel day: a flight from Edinburgh to Dublin placed awkwardly in the middle of the day.  It seemed a little lonely to head out to breakfast without Barbara and Sean.  And I was feeling a little sad to be leaving Scotland.  As the cliche goes, "all holidays must come to an end." It always sort of irks me when the cliches are right. 

This is our third trip to Ireland in under four years: I'm always torn between wanting to spend holiday time exploring new places or visiting places I love.  This trip was a bit of a compromise: new places and a place we love.  I've missed Westport in unprecendented ways-- and I didn't realize quite how much until I booked nights the same place in Westport we stayed last year. Coming in to land in Dublin was magical-- seeing that landscape from the air doesn't fail to move me (though it was odd to see it in sunshine and blue sky!)  

I have often remarked that travel is weird, especially air travel.  You sit around in an airport for a while, get on a plane and then after an hour or eight you're in a totally different place.  On one level, 

"Well, gosh Heidi, thanks for stating the blatantly obvious," but if you think about it for a while, it can blow your mind a bit.  Sort of like what Andrew said in To The Lighthouse,  "Think of a kitchen table then," he told her, "when you're not there."  

Our hotel in Dublin is right along the Liffey, near the Samuel Beckett Bridge* and the Convention Centre.    For some reason, I'm coping really well on a lot less sleep than I'm used to (maybe half?) and last night l sat in my little bed right beside the window and watched another river flow by until the sun was nearly up again.  Sometimes insomnia can be kind of nice.

We arrived in Dublin around 5:00 PM, checked into our hotel and then started our Dublin trip the same way we did two other times: dinner at the Porterhouse with tasty pints of Oyster Stout (no Oysters were injured in the making of that stout) and I had a great bowl of chowder and bread.  We sat near the table we had last year and the time we were here with my parents.  It seemed nice to reconnect with those memories.  After that we wandered to find some music and ended up in a place we'd been before, the oldest pub in Ireland.  Tonight, when we arrived, it was the quietest we'd ever seen it.  The World Cup was on all the televisions and Spain was losing to Chile.  At the bar a man wearing a Michigan State shirt held forth and I paraphrase ever so slightly, "I don't understand this game and I don't care about either team but let me give you my opinion.  And then I shall compare this sport's rules to American football."  The locals are polite.  I laughed at the serendipity of a woman wearing a t-shirt saying "You lost me at hello" walking up to the bar and standing beside him.  Once the game was over, the music started, opening with "Galway Girl."  We listened for a while and then wandered around a bit more, finding a pub that had live music and Irish set dancing.  I was completely enthralled and so excited to see it.  I deeply regretted not finding any Scottish Country Dance where we were.  I also realized it was Wednesday night and I really missed my SCD friends.  

Yesterday morning, on our last little stroll around Edinburgh before leaving Scotland, I stared at the giant Scott Memorial* while a piper played Scotland the Brave.  I wondered how one goes about saying "goodbye, thank you, I love you," to a city and a country.  I'd wondered that last year too when we left Ireland.  Sitting on the train today from Dublin to Westport, I am remembering doing this very trip last February, nervous about what we'd done in committing so much time to one place.  Would we like Westport?  Will it turn out?  Will we be lonely?  Doing the Westport to Dublin trip last April on our way back to Canada was the first time I wondered how you say goodbye, thank you, I love you to a place.  I'm now watching the Irish landscape unfold and listening to familiar place names announced in Gaelic and Irish. Now I'm wondering how you say, "hello again, thank you, I still love you." 

Here are some of Dale's photos.  

* I keep meaning to write about how cool it is to have writers so prominently honoured.  Canada needs to do more of that.  

Day 11: Another perfect day in Edinburgh

Every morning since we've arrived, I've been awake at 4 AM and I stay awake for an hour or two.  It might be the sunrise that wakes me up at 4, but it's always the views and the sounds that keep me awake.  I'm excited to be here and sleeping really seems like a waste of time.  Falling asleep to and waking up to this beautiful view of Edinburgh has been so lovely-- it's no wonder I didn't go back to sleep. Today was unusual in that it was the second warm cloudless sunny day in a row.  We were grateful for the blue skies today as we were hiking up to the top of Arthur's Seat via Salisbury Crags.  Although we didn't really talk about it until the end of dinner tonight, today was our last day with our wonderful traveling companions.  They're heading home tomorrow and we're off to Ireland.  I have to admit there's a lump in my throat thinking about them leaving.

It's hard not to notice Arthur's Seat while wandering in Edinburgh and I've been looking at it for the whole time we've been here, excited to climb it.  The views from up top are incredible-- being able to see the whole city spread out below and to see the old blending with the new is fascinating.  It's an intriguing city on so many levels-- literally and figuratively.  Up, around, and down Arthur's Seat took us about 2 hrs and after stopping back at the hotel to change we went out to a neat new restaurant/ pub that Dale used his Yelp magic to find.  It was tucked away in a close (which is basically a long alleyway, often with stairs) and worth the post-Arthur's Seat stair climbing.  After lunch, Sean and Barbara went to the Scottish National Museum while Dale and I wandered around some bookstores (I bought an interesting new history of Scotland) and then we wandered around the U of Edinburgh campus, sitting for a lovely spell on a park bench.  We were to meet Sean and Barbara at 5:00 at the oldest pub in town (attached to an inn where Robbie Burns stayed in 1791).  We left the park bench at about 4:40 at about 4:41, the skies opened up and poured on us.  All four of us looked like drowned squirrels when we arrived but somehow that didn't seem to matter. We had some pints and compared notes.  It's amazing to spend 11 days with people and realize we still have many things to talk about.

We had our last dinner together at another great Yelp find of Dale's (he's really good).  The food in Scotland has been great-- I think we've only had one meal that was just okay-- and even that was pretty good.  Toward the end of dinner, we started talking about this being their last day.  It's really hard to say goodbye to them and even harder to find words enough to thank them for being such wonderful travel companions and friends.  I'm feeling a little teary now and more than a little grateful for them and all they each brought to this trip and to our lives.  Safe home, Sean and Barbara.  We'll see you again soon in some other wonderful city.  

Dale and Barbara at the top of Arthur's Seat and some other views

Barbara helped me find this Tobias Smollett plaque for Griff

Day 10: Perfect Day in Edinburgh

Transcribing a handwritten blog entry written this afternoon at the Elephant Room:

"Today was the first day that we split up and did our own things in the morning.  Sean, Barbara and I wanted to go to Edinburgh Castle and Dale didn't.  Having been there before, I knew I'd spend less time there than S&B so we arranged for all four of us to meet at 1:30 at a pub on Bow Street.  My main goal in going to the Castle today was to see my mum's uncle's name in the Scottish National War Memorial.  The last time I was at Edinburgh Castle was fourteen years ago, I could not find his name then and I really wanted to see it this time.  I found the section of the Memorial devoted to the Queen's Own Cameron Highlanders, but did not see his name. Eventually, I realized I'd need to find his name in the Canadian section and I asked where it was.  Apparently they moved it last week and a staff member found the correct book for me.  I know the BiblioGods (archival division) will be angry for me for sneaking a forbidden picture of his name in the register.  I assume I will be cursed with unnecessary overdue fines and blocks on my library cards for taking such a picture... but I wanted something tangible.  Even though I know I will be smote by vengeful shushing, I'm glad I have the photo.  I wandered around the Castle for a while and then found the crowds getting too intense.  When I felt I was in some sort of stunt trying to determine how many German tourists you could cram into a tiny 12th century chapel, I knew it was time to leave.  

I left the Castle after a nice morning and was very happy to leave the busloads and busloads of tourists behind.  I set out into the novelty of a blue skied sunny day.  I poked around a few tartan shops-- overwhelmed by the number of identical cashmere scarves for sale-- and passed a piper playing what I joyfully realized was Reel of the Royal Scots (perhaps my favourite Scottish Country Dance-- mostly, I think, because of the music.  I also note that it was AH's favourite dance so it seemed like a perfect treat made just for me).  I knew then this day was going to be amazing.  I wandered along the streets and went to Scottish National Library where I saw those neat book art pieces made by an anonymous artist and left in Scottish libraries.  I also saw a really interestingly currated exhibit about the 19th century publisher John Murray.  I then made my way to the Elephant House cafe where JK Rowling was said to have written much of Harry Potter.  I ordered a scone and a cafe au lait and tried to pretend I wasn't as excited as I was.  As a fan of the series, I was excited to be there.  As someone who also writes in cafes, it was pretty neat-- the cafe is unassuming.  It's cool to be writing where she wrote-- maybe I'm at her table!  More reason why cafes should be nice to writers-- you never know what they'll be writing!  [What a happy lovely day!] Walking through Edinburgh, you can really see where Harry Potter came from."  The rest of the entry notes some practicalities and also describes my overwhelming sense of joy and gratitude for all of the forces and circumstances that brough me here.

After meeting up with the other three at 1:30, we wandered and walked a lot. I love that we four love to walk, wander and explore and Edinburgh is a great city to do that.  We walked for quite a while and then wandered up to Calton Hill where the city unfolds in front of you.  I looked out over the city for a long time: it was a perfect hour.  Dinner tonight was tapas-- a bit of a re-creation of the trip the four of us had to Spain last year.  I'm feeling overwhelmed with gratitude for lovely friends who love to travel and are so wonderful to travel with and for the opportunities to travel.  If I get messages again from friends saying, "I'm worried you're not going to come back," I'm not sure what I'd say at this point.  There are so many corners of the world to love.  This trip to Scotland's been transformative and inspiring in ways too vast to articulate at this point.  Tomorrow we're climbing up to Arthur's Seat, even though sleep seems like a such a waste of time in an amazing place, it seems to be a necessity.  Talk to you tomorrow.  

Edinburgh Castle

Amazing Book Art at the National Library

Scone and coffee at Elephant Room

View from my table at the Elephant Room

Pub on Bow Street

Sign for cafe near Elephant Room

View from Calton Hill

Day 9: Train to Edinburgh

Dear Cafe visitors, welcome and good evening.  Your friendly blogger pondered writing this as today's entry: "We are experiencing technical difficulties.  One moment please.  Please stand by.  Please do not adjust your set." But then she realized she might just admit she's feeling more than a little tired and actually doesn't have very much to say or many pictures to share.  Then again, on further reflection, she realized, "actually maybe I do have things to say" and soon she also began to wonder, "why am I writing in third person? I must cease this nonsense.  Perhaps the many monuments to Walter Scott are to blame?"  

This will be a short entry and fairly picture-less (though I may upload more tomorrow).  Today, I was feeling a little sad to leave Inverness: I was awake between 4 and 6 AM this morning and watched the River Ness and listened to the birds.  I could see coming back to Inverness for an extended stay.  We caught an early-ish train to Edinburgh and we had a very nice train ride.  Scotland's a comparatively small country but it's amazing how quickly and dramatically the land and vegetation change.  I saw crops for the first time in many miles.  We got to Edinburgh early afternoon.  I remembered the last time we were here how stunning it was to exit the train station and see that gorgeous architecture.  It felt good to be back.  Our hotel is lovely and we have an amazing view of the city.  And our hotel gives us a free rubber ducky!  My delight at this cannot be overstated.  And there are again more cookies.  We spent the afternoon wandering the streets, all of us were a little culture shocked to be surrounded by so many people after hiking in Skye and walking the small streets of Inverness.  We had a late afternoon nap (I was awoken by a bagpiper on the street below-- we're 10 stories up) and then headed out for dinner.  Dale worked his usual magic and found us a lovely little French restaurant where we had what might be the best meal of the trip.  We had some pints in a little pub tucked into a side street.  I made the mistake of having a can of Coke at 11:30 so am now both deleriously exhausted and sugared/ caffeinated up.  I will pull this chatty yet somewhat vapid entry to a close and promise you a more engaging read tomorrow.  Oh, but I should also note that the statue of Wellington here does not have a traffic cone on his head.  Thanks for stopping by! 

View from our window

My new duck friend.  Would it be wrong to name it Sir Walter?

Day 8: Culloden, Cairns and Cawdor (and cookies)

I'm sitting next to an open window in my lovely hotel room.  It's after 10 and there's still some daylight. The River Ness is flowing hurriedly beside me and I just noticed the statue of Flora MacDonald I love is visible from my bed.  I'm quite smitten with Inverness.  

Today we set out to see the Culloden Battlefield and I was excited to see it and learn about the battle.  If I hadn't gone in to see the movie mid-exhibit or if I had seen the warning about disturbing content, I expect I would be writing a very different entry-- likely about the brilliant curation of the museum and the way the multiple historical perspectives were conveyed.  But I did see the movie and I didn't see the warning about disturbing content. I'd somehow got separated from my three companions and when I saw "movie starting in three seconds," I dashed in expecting the standard museum film about background and context.  I found I was the only person in a large white walled room.  The lights dimmed and the 360 perspective of the battlefield was presented on all four walls.  At first it was a beautiful landscape with birds chirping.  And then on one wall, some Highlanders scraggled in.  And on a wall across, red coats started lining up.  Then more Highlanders came in, bagpipes blaring.  And more and more red coats came in and formed perfect lines.  And then the Highlanders charged and the red coats stood still.  And they kept standing still until the Highlanders were in shooting range.  And I stood there paralyzed and helpless as the carnage began around me.  I had just been reading about how 1200-1500 Highlanders and 50 British soldiers were killed in just over an hour.  And somehow these numbers were put into perspective.  Once I started, I couldn't stop crying.  I made my way out of the exhibit, found a cup of tea and a quiet table outside by myself overlooking the battlefield.  I suppose I could say many things here about the power of history, about museums, about connecting with the past, about equally horrific things today.  But I will leave it there.  And change the subject abruptly to the Clava Cairns.

From Culloden we drove to the Clava Cairns-- a Bronze Age tomb/ cairn.  Pictures and descriptions don't do them justice.  But I'll include a picture anyway.  To find out more about them, you should google them because they're really interesting.  As your friendly neighbourhood information literacy librarian, I think you can trust me when I say "it's good for you to find your own information.  Active learning etc etc." Or, maybe I'm too tired to write about it myself.  Take your pick: both could be right. 

After that we drove to the tavern at Cawdor because, well, who doesn't like a pub connected with the Famous Thane of Cawdor?  Food and everything was lovely; I think even Lady Macbeth would have approved.  My favourite thing was being told that the restaurant side was totally full but we could sit in the pub side instead if we wanted.  The waitress paused and said, "I should warn you people will be coming and bringing their dogs shortly."  I was very pleased with the cheddar sandwich but disappointed the dogs did not arrive before we left. I hope the dogs had a pleasant afternoon.

We spent the rest of the afternoon wandering rainy and charming Inverness.  I purchased my 2nd travel umbrella of the year (sigh). I am hoping this will be the last travel umbrella I will purchase on the road since I now have one for each of my three regular suitcases. And I'm hoping that purchasing an umbrella will also ensure that it will not rain on us again.  It's now nearly dark and I cannot see Flora MacDonald any longer.  I think I should call it a night as tomorrow's an early-ish morning as we're off to Edinburgh.  Thanks again for your nice emails, comments and FB notes.  Oh, and PS: As if I needed another reason to love Scotland, Scottish hotels give you cookies in your room. 

Culloden

Clava Cairns

Cawdor (sans pooches)

Day 7: Train to Inverness, or, you never really travel alone

"Here sitting on the world, she thought, for she could not shake herself free from the sense that everything this morning was happening for the first time, perhaps for the last time, as a traveller, even  though he is half asleep, knows, looking out of the train window, that he must look now, for he will never see that town, or that mule-cart, or that woman at work in the fields, again"-- Virginia Woolf, To The Lighthouse p 288.

Last week, before I left, more than a few people mentioned they were worried I wouldn't come back.  They'd seen how deeply smitten I was with Ireland and wondered if I'd somehow find a way to stay this time: third time's the charm? It's nice to ponder.  

One of the things about traveling is that while you're looking at the new and unknown, you do still think about home and the people you love there.  It's occured to me over the past few days that I never really travel alone.  Obviously I'm traveling with Dale, Sean and Barbara but I've realized that there are a lot of other people along with me on this journey.  Maybe this blog is meant to let them know they're along with me.

Today we took a train to Inverness from Kyle of Loch Alsh to Inverness. Inverness is a pleasant surprise: very pretty and interesting.  Once settled here, we went out for a drive and went to see Loch Ness (avoiding the tourist areas) and also seeing the Falls of Foyers.  All of it was so lovely and exciting, it would seem 

It was a pretty and rainy train ride to Inverness this morning and the scenery was astoundingly beautiful.  I read To The Lighthouse on most of the train trip, looking up often to take in the scenery and let my mind wander.  My mind wandered to the people I love and who are-- perhaps unknown to them-- along on this trip with me. 

Yesterday I got an email from my adored friend A who, writing about this blog and the posted pictures, noted "I was amazed but not surprised to learn that we were reading To The Lighthouse at the same time."  This pleased me and, while I read it on the train today, I was loving every word but also imagining what he was thinking about this very book and imagining what conversations we'd have about the book and wondering too what he would say about the landscape before us.  It was nice to travel with him today.

And it's nice to travel with my friend G who would have, I am sure, been able to identify the birds I saw today and would have, I am quite sure, known that Robert Burns wrote "Lines on the Fall of Fyers Near Loch-Ness" before we got to those falls today,  I looked at those falls, excited to tell him "I saw how  'the horrid cauldron boils'!"  And perhaps mention the various whiskeys I've encountered on the trip. 

And, last night, thinking about the recently lost and much missed AH, I ordered for the table an order of sticky toffee pudding in her honour.  I was lucky to see her in a dream last night.  She called my name and gave me a big hug.  I woke up teary yet grateful to see her again.  

And I was also thinking about my friend J, who would have talked about Lairds and Lochs in a Sean Connery accent to make me laugh.

And, I was thinking about my favourite professor who taught me how to read and love Virginia Woolf among many other things.

And my brother who, writing a final exam about To The Lighthouse, somehow (?!) forgot Mrs Ramsay's 

name and ended up writing the whole exam referring to Mrs Ramsay as "the friend of Lily Briscoe."  No matter how many times I think about this, I still laugh.  

And my parents who would love the highland cows, the clouds, the green, the people, the stories, the rain, the sunshine, the hills: they would love it all in the same ways that I love it all.  

Even though I'm far away from lots of people I love,  many of them along here with me and I'm grateful for their company.

Castle ruins at Kyleakin above, Loch Ness below

Falls of Foyers

A Highland Coo

Rainy Inverness

Flora MacDonald