Tim, Rachel and Aidan

Last night we returned from a week-long vacation (“holiday,” as the British say) in which we visited the central and western highlands. (We rented a car for the trip; those of you who know that we’re carless may be wondering how we managed a toddler and loads of luggage on public transport.) We spent four nights in a youth hostel in Aviemore and two in a B&B in Inverinate, near the Isle of Skye. It was a thoroughly enjoyable time all around, and Tim has become quite proficient at driving a standard transmission on the left side of narrow, shoulder-less roads–even some single lane roads on the Isle of Skye!

Having lived in Scotland nearly a year (it’ll be a year exactly tomorrow, in fact) without having explored it much, it was great to get out of the beautiful but tiny town of St Andrews and see more of this lovely land. We were struck with just how beautiful so much of Scotland is–it was delightful simply to drive through the country and look around.

We started our trip with a visit to Blair Castle, Scotland’s most visited historic home, where we saw the evidence of many hunting trips and much taxidermy, beautiful furniture, paintings, tapestry, and needlework, as well as spectacular gardens and trees. From there we made our way to the hostel in Aviemore. This was the first time I had stayed in a hostel, and I think it won’t be the last. Although I was happy to get to the B&B for the sake of a regular (not bunk) bed and en-suite facilities, being able to cook, to do laundry, and to sleep in a clean (if spare) place at such a great price was good. And when you stay in the spartan place first even a modest (if lovely) B&B seems very luxurious.

Our first full day in Aviemore, we went to the Highland Wildlife Park. It’s a kind of a cross between a wildlife preserve and a zoo; you stay in your car and drive through dirt roads to enjoy close views of bison, red deer, and other large wild animals, and then there is a considerable walk-through portion where mostly native British animals are featured. I appreciated how the design of the enclosures was meant to mimic closely the animals’ natural habitat, but struggled a bit when I noticed that the way they feed the animals is meant to be similarly close to their natural way of eating. By which I mean to say, when we watched the wolves being fed, I was amused and horrified to overhear the feeder proclaim “in the States they give them frozen meat; it’s quite bad actually” as she hurled freshly killed bunnies over the fence to the snarling wolves, who caught them and crunched them whole. Difficult to imagine THAT happening at the Bronx Zoo. I kept trying to shield Aidan from the scene, but he saw what was happening and seemed unfazed.

The next day we visited both branches of the Highland Folk Museum, and in the afternoon, after Aidan’s nap, we walked around Loch Morlich. Aidan kept shouting “go for HIKE, go for HIKE” to anyone who’d listen, before, during, and after the hike around Morlich. That night, instead of cooking at the hostel, we ate at a fish & chips place that had been highly recommended. The cook came out and had a chat with Aidan, who unaccountably began saying “eat ice cream!” even though he has never had any. After our meal, the cook came back with a complimentary ice cream cone, of which Aidan was afraid. We encouraged him to taste it, and he eventually did, but declared it “too cold” and looked disgruntled. This is the same child who cries if I run out of cucumber slices for him to eat.

Thursday included a trip on the Cairngorm Mountain Railway, which, predictably, appealed greatly to Aidan; in the afternoon, we hiked partway around the lovely Loch en Eilean. We finished that hike Friday morning, and left for the west coast that afternoon. Friday and Saturday were spent roaming around the mountains of the west coast and Skye (alas, mostly in our car, as it was then and there that we saw the heaviest rain we’ve yet to see in Scotland) and Aidan made great friends with the hostess of our B&B–he was calling her “Grandma” by the time we left Sunday morning.

And now we’re back in St Andrews, after taking the long way home and enjoying yet more beautiful countryside and mountains, and I think we’re all feeling refreshed. Tim’s back at work on his thesis, Aidan’s settling back into his routine, and I’m trying to put the flat back together and get back to normal life without forgetting how nice it is, sometimes, to get away to somewhere glorious.

Yesterday was a beautiful day, so Tim took the morning off and we walked several miles to a berry farm outside town, where there is a lovely cafe and “farm shop,” along with great outdoor play areas, in addition to greenhouses of berries available for you to pick your own. After Aidan spent some time in the sandbox, we picked about 2 kilos of dark, sweet strawberries. Aidan’s mouth and cheeks were painted red with sticky juice and his plaid shirt may forever be spotted with pink. Tim and I have already eaten some berries on our cereal, and some with whipped cream, and I plan to make a strawberry pie tonight. Yum!