I've got some catching up to do.

As usual, I'm backtracking a bit, but here goes.

In early October, Mariah and Josie and I decided "what good are tier 4 Visas [our visas] if you're not going to put them to use?" Now, the ways to put a tier 4 visa to use are 1) to get a job or 2) to travel outside of the country. (This is all as opposed to the visitor pass, which supposedly just allows you to be in Scotland.)

So, we spent a day filling out job applications... Just kidding. Being the responsible "adults" that we are we decided to find the cheapest flight out of the country.

That flight ended up being on Ryanair for Memmingen, Germany. Outside of Munich.

And there we went.

We set out for the Edinburgh airport on a Thursday night (having a 6 am flight), we stayed in a 7 ilbs hostel for four hours-- that was long enough-- and then we caught the early bus to the airport.

Now, I do not speak German. Nor does Josie. And Mariah had five years in high school. Prepared?

We land at the Memmingen airport and I'm frantically asking Mariah how to say "I want a coffee" (this is vital information).

Once we get into the city we decide to take a "Free Tour." The first twenty minutes was quite informative. The tour was three hours long. But, that said, we met a very nice tour guide from China, his name was Kai, and we learned a good bit about concentration camps in China.

The second day we went to the Alps to see the Neuschwenstein Castle. And it was crazy. But honestly, it was crazy. I can't even put the experience into written words. If you ever have the chance to go see it for yourself, you should. It's like the original tourist trap. I don't know if fluorescent colors and Jesus surrounded by rainbows gives a good image to anyone. There was also a mural that resembled Snow White/ Sleeping Beauty/ Enchanted. And the paint was so... so.. so well-preserved. Needless to say, Josie and I have conspiracy theories going about the castle.

That night we tried our hardest to find German sausage. At about 8:00 we finally succeeded. We also looked for a European bar/club to have the full European experience. We finally found one, they said any drink was 11 euros. We found our way back out.

The next morning, I so wisely decided to go before Mariah and Josie and try to grab some breakfast before our bus to the airport. The bus was at 7:20. At 7:19 I was running toward the bus. The driver was glaring at me (deja vu?) and Mariah and Josie were looking at me pleadingly. Breakfast in hand, bags falling to elbows, I broke into a sprint. The whole bus stared at me as I walked on. "Yep, that just happened," I thought to myself.

Crisis averted though. We got to the airport, got on the plane, it didn't crash. And we landed safely back in Scotland, raining, cold, beautiful Scotland.

Not Neuschwanstein. Nice though!

Neuschwanstein

#2: A sheep

So I have a sheep.

They have black faces, Ruth. I promise :)

"The Lowlands... As opposed to the Highlands. The Lowlands. Cause they're not high..." (Oh, and #56: Observe Highland Cattle)

The Isle of Skye.

We took a 5:50 (a.m.) train from Aberdeen to Edinburgh, to arrive at Edinburgh at 8:30. The four of us walked onto the tour bus. We were followed by a father and daughter from Finland (the daughter was living in Edinburgh though); an Indian/Pakistani couple; and Indian family of a father, two sons, and one of the son's wife; and a couple (not seeming like a romantic couple) from Germany. Germany was the only pair we couldn't figure out. Though we tried.

Our tour guide was Liam.. (say it in your head in a nice, thick scottish accent).

Liam was a great tour guide. But Liam, for some reason, felt the need to say everything three times. I don't know if it was the language barrier, or if he was taught to give tours this way, but most comments went something like this:
   "Here on your left is Loch lochy.  That to the left is good ole Loch Lochy. That's what they call it- Loch Lochy."  (I don't exaggerate).
    One of the best facts was, "We're now in the lowlands, but we're getting ready to enter the highlands. The scottish highlands. Named such because of their rolling hills and mountains. The high lands. But now we're in the lowlands. They're named the lowlands because they're not high, like the high land. So here we go, into the highlands. Out of the lowlands." (Repeat in thick scottish accent if you did not read so the first time.) It proved a long trip at points, but it was also nice cause you knew you didn't miss too much if you tuned in and out.

So, hearing everything three times, we finally got to The Isle of Skye. We listened to a song titled, "Over the Sea to Skye" as we drove across the bridge. It was all quite magical.

We stayed at the Bayfield Backpackers' Hostel in a town called Portree.. (Portree..Portree..).
The first night, after returning from dinner, we ran into a group of about eight older men. They were from Kirkintilloch, outside Glasgow. One of the men made each of us attempt to say kirkintilloch and he corrected each of us on our "och" as we went down.

On saturday, we went around Skye, seeing landscape and a castle. It was all quite beautiful. We learned that the main clans that fought for control of the islands-- and for the title "lord of the Isles"-- were the clans McDuff and McDonald. We saw highland cattle (who held up our bus) and we got to chase sheep! (Successful day).

The night after our long saturday tour, we went out to a pub. We met a man (who had had a few drinks) and his name was Dougie (pronounced, "doogie"). He proudly told us he was of the clan McDonald. He then went around and asked each of us our names. He then tried to link our surnames to scottish people he knew. It was a bit like being in "My Big Fat Greek Wedding," with the father saying, "Give me a word, any word, and I will tell you how that word, is Greek."

   This man went around finding six degrees of separation between each of our names and strong scottish roots. Mariah he particularly liked. He would stare at her and then say, "You're Scottish, I can see it in your eyes." He would then continue, "What's your last name."
   Mariah responded, "Kasshun..." (rhyming with Sassoon, for any wondering).
   He would look at her in bewilderment. He would attempt to say it. She would say she believed it was a German name. He would then say, "You're Scottish, I can see it."
   This went on quite a few times. He was also convinced that my father lived in town. "Mason," he would say. "Mason, I know a Mason. You're father lives right outside of town?" I tried denying this the first few times, but just began to go with it.
   "Oh, yep. My long lost father. I'll have to meet him."

   On the bus, we were the epitome of tourists. We were those people you're completely embarressed for if you're a local anywhere. We stopped every twenty minutes to take pictures-- with whisky, with lakes, with mountains, with monuments, anything that would stay still long enough, really.

But the pictures and the sights were absolutely amazing, so I could definitely bear the shame.

Finding Narnia

This should get updated quite often, so check back periodically. Minus the snow (as of now) so much of this country is Narnia.