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7 Days in Scotland: Day 7
Tuesday, May 13
I have convinced Joel that we will not try to walk the remaining 6 miles to Aviemore. We wake lazily, and do some packing before breakfast. During breakfast, we chat with our hostess, who was a physicist before retiring to Scotland to run a B&B. We commiserate about the academic climate for women, and I must confess to her that in many disciplines, things are not much better than they were in the 60's and 70's.
Our bus is at 10 minutes to 10:00. It's always a gamble guessing which side of the road is the correct side to wait at, but there is someone waiting near the one we think is right, so we ask her if this is the bus to Aviemore. It turns out, she's unsure herself; she and her husband have a summer cottage in Boat of Garten, and she's been up repainting it for the last week and is taking a day off to go to Aviemore. Still, there is safety in numbers, and we're pretty sure we're on the right side of the street.
It is only 6 miles; by bus, it takes barely 10 minutes. Sitting on the bus and watching the scenery whiz by is disorienting: 10 minutes, and we have covered the distance that we would've spent half the day doing otherwise. 10 minutes: How on earth do you have the time to notice anything when you are going so fast?
We have about an hour before our train, so we wander up and down the High Street, ducking into souvenir shops. I want to get something for Gwen; something for mom; something for dad. We inspect whisky selections to see if we can find a bottle of the ones we particularly liked. I find the perfect gift for mom, a cute little plaid hat. We pick out a book with owls in it for Gwen. We hope that the whisky selection will be better at the airport.
We settle into our seats on the train. It's a couple hours to Perth, and then a few more to Glasgow. I alternate between staring out the window, watching the Cairngorms flash past, and looking at a map on my phone, watching the little blue dot that is us hurtle south. We cover more distance in these few hours than we have the entire past week. It is such a strange feeling to be caught up again in the ordinary every day rush of life. I see little whispers of things, echos and hints of places to explore, cute little towns, rippling rivers, the still snow-covered mountains. I feel like we've hardly done the area justice, that we have spent too little time and covered too small an area. I am already thinking of when we can come back, and see more, and spend more time.
The selection of whisky at the airport is not larger but different, and we find a bottle of Joel's preferred; I also pick out a small taster of the one we had in Dufftown, which we both enjoyed, for dad. We have plenty of time, and haven't had lunch, so we find a restaurant, one with outlets so Joel can charge his laptop, and get a bit of work done. We hang out until our gate is announced, and then pack everything back up and head down the hall. We haven't gotten far when someone comes running up to us -- one of the business men who had been sitting at the table next to us for the same period, and who realized that we'd left our duty free bag (all the whisky!) behind. Thank goodness they overheard us saying which gate we were going to, and thus knew which direction to seek us out!
On the plane, we sit and wait at the gate, and eventually our captain comes on to apologize. He begins to tell us that there will be a delay because on the flight over from Amsterdam, our plane had hit another plane -- !!! -- which he then quickly corrects to "hit a bird". A mechanic must come and inspect things before we can take off, and the mechanic has been held up in traffic. We wait. I doze.
The delay is short but it means that again we have a quick run through the airport in Amsterdam to make our connection. It is late when we finally land in Frankfurt; while we wait for our bags, I check the train schedules and realize that we'd have to wait an hour to get one, and then not get home until 1:30am. Instead, we make our way to the shuttle stop, which comes in 20 minutes and will take only an hour to get home.
Walking home from where the shuttle dropped us off, there are so many people. It is nearly midnight, but Haupstrasse is streaming with people. I comment to Joel how we are seeing more people in this short space of time than we'd seen nearly the entire previous week. It is weird to be back in the bustle of society. I am glad to get home, briefly say hello to mom, peak in on Gwen sound asleep in her bed, and go to bed myself.
Our seven days are over. We are home.
I have convinced Joel that we will not try to walk the remaining 6 miles to Aviemore. We wake lazily, and do some packing before breakfast. During breakfast, we chat with our hostess, who was a physicist before retiring to Scotland to run a B&B. We commiserate about the academic climate for women, and I must confess to her that in many disciplines, things are not much better than they were in the 60's and 70's.
Our bus is at 10 minutes to 10:00. It's always a gamble guessing which side of the road is the correct side to wait at, but there is someone waiting near the one we think is right, so we ask her if this is the bus to Aviemore. It turns out, she's unsure herself; she and her husband have a summer cottage in Boat of Garten, and she's been up repainting it for the last week and is taking a day off to go to Aviemore. Still, there is safety in numbers, and we're pretty sure we're on the right side of the street.
It is only 6 miles; by bus, it takes barely 10 minutes. Sitting on the bus and watching the scenery whiz by is disorienting: 10 minutes, and we have covered the distance that we would've spent half the day doing otherwise. 10 minutes: How on earth do you have the time to notice anything when you are going so fast?
We have about an hour before our train, so we wander up and down the High Street, ducking into souvenir shops. I want to get something for Gwen; something for mom; something for dad. We inspect whisky selections to see if we can find a bottle of the ones we particularly liked. I find the perfect gift for mom, a cute little plaid hat. We pick out a book with owls in it for Gwen. We hope that the whisky selection will be better at the airport.
We settle into our seats on the train. It's a couple hours to Perth, and then a few more to Glasgow. I alternate between staring out the window, watching the Cairngorms flash past, and looking at a map on my phone, watching the little blue dot that is us hurtle south. We cover more distance in these few hours than we have the entire past week. It is such a strange feeling to be caught up again in the ordinary every day rush of life. I see little whispers of things, echos and hints of places to explore, cute little towns, rippling rivers, the still snow-covered mountains. I feel like we've hardly done the area justice, that we have spent too little time and covered too small an area. I am already thinking of when we can come back, and see more, and spend more time.
The selection of whisky at the airport is not larger but different, and we find a bottle of Joel's preferred; I also pick out a small taster of the one we had in Dufftown, which we both enjoyed, for dad. We have plenty of time, and haven't had lunch, so we find a restaurant, one with outlets so Joel can charge his laptop, and get a bit of work done. We hang out until our gate is announced, and then pack everything back up and head down the hall. We haven't gotten far when someone comes running up to us -- one of the business men who had been sitting at the table next to us for the same period, and who realized that we'd left our duty free bag (all the whisky!) behind. Thank goodness they overheard us saying which gate we were going to, and thus knew which direction to seek us out!
On the plane, we sit and wait at the gate, and eventually our captain comes on to apologize. He begins to tell us that there will be a delay because on the flight over from Amsterdam, our plane had hit another plane -- !!! -- which he then quickly corrects to "hit a bird". A mechanic must come and inspect things before we can take off, and the mechanic has been held up in traffic. We wait. I doze.
The delay is short but it means that again we have a quick run through the airport in Amsterdam to make our connection. It is late when we finally land in Frankfurt; while we wait for our bags, I check the train schedules and realize that we'd have to wait an hour to get one, and then not get home until 1:30am. Instead, we make our way to the shuttle stop, which comes in 20 minutes and will take only an hour to get home.
Walking home from where the shuttle dropped us off, there are so many people. It is nearly midnight, but Haupstrasse is streaming with people. I comment to Joel how we are seeing more people in this short space of time than we'd seen nearly the entire previous week. It is weird to be back in the bustle of society. I am glad to get home, briefly say hello to mom, peak in on Gwen sound asleep in her bed, and go to bed myself.
Our seven days are over. We are home.