"I've been reading so much about Scotland & Ireland that instead of hearing Wes' voice narrating the blog, I'm hearing a strong Scotch-brogue voice!
I now feel fully immersed in the rhythm of the language!"
---Reverend Cheryl
A week or two ago, I received this note from my sister-in-law. At the time, I had been slogging through a library book about Robert the Bruce, where passages of dialogue were so laden with regional dialect that it made reading the novel like wading through mud. It's a 600 page book, and considering I'm not a particularly fast reader in the best of circumstances, I decided to return it early after finishing only about 10%.
Nonetheless, when I wrote about Loch Ness, I decided to exaggerate some Sco'ish accents along the lines of that historical novelization to give it some local color, and having noticed many of the tourists with money to explore the UK are now from the far east, I had to show balance in presenting my fellow tourists.
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| Highlander Duck Jay Saw On Motorcycle in Inverness |
However, my daughter Amy told me that what I had done was NOT entirely okay.
Because I don't like to embarrass my kids...at least not other than intentionally...I thought about revising that article when I woke up at 2 AM worrying about her comment. In the light of morning, I decided to let the story stand.
Anyone who really knows me recognizes I mean no harm, and to paraphrase my old college friend Cary, "Forget 'em if they can't take a joke."
After all, we all speak with accents.
When I would visit my country cousins in the summer as a boy, Donald would lampoon how rapidly I spoke and would emphasize "you guys" with a nasally voice, which I assume is how he heard my voice, as opposed to the slow drawl starting with "Y'all" that I heard from him.
Truth be told, I don't particularly like the sound of my voice when I hear a recording, but when I do my best John Wayne, Jimmy Stewart, Clint Eastwood, Ringo and Mountain Man impersonations, Julie says it is annoying. I tell ya, pilgrim, there's just no winnin' sometimes. And, w-w-w-well, m-m-m-maybe she has a point. I have to ask myself: do I feel lucky? Ee-hee-uh, ee-yeah. Maaaaaaybeee, maaaaybeee not.
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| High Street in Inverness |
The biggest drama happened as we left town. Turning right to get on the motorway, I could not figure out the confusing markings on the road and ended up cutting straight through a painted roundabout. No harm, no foul. Play on. However, it was a good reminder to always stay sharp driving on foreign roads.
Based on pictures I've seen of Inverness, including an awesome castle, we really didn't see too much of the city, but we headed toward Pitlochry, the nearest town to Bendarroch House, where we would spend the night.
The B & B was a few miles past Pitlochry, near the village of Strathray, but once we were on the 2-lane country road between those two booming metropolises, the signs for artery roads were poorly marked. We thought it might be like going to my cousin Angie's house, where you have to recognize particular trees to find your way there, so we turned up a farm road we guessed to be about the right distance out of Pitlochry.
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| Historic Building in Inverness |
About to give up and turn around, we saw a gated, historic mansion with beautiful gardens and lawn which I thought might be our hotel.
I drove in the open gate despite Julie's protestations that it didn't look right. I parked by the house and got out of the Fiat. A sophisticated woman appeared from the house and spoke with an aristocratic air.
"May I help you?"
"Yeah, I think we have a room for the night?"
"Excuse me?"
"Is this a B & B?"
"I'm sorry, I don't exactly know what you mean."
"We have a hotel booked around here, and we thought this might be it. The gatehouse?"
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| Bendarroch House |
Toward the car, I called, "What's the name of our B & B?"
Julie emerged from the back seat and asked, "BEND-a-rock House?"
The lady of the manse looked more confused.
"Excuse me?"
I repeated, "BEND-a-rock House. We have a room booked there."
The look of confusion washed away, replaced with amusement.
"Oh. Ben-DAHRRR-eck," she said, smiling about our peculiar American accents. "Carry on a bit, just there." She pointed further down the farm road we had been on.
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| Bendarroch House |
We turned around to leave her stately grounds, and back on the farm road, we soon came to Bendarroch House, noting it on the left as we sped past it at 15 miles an hour. We turned around at an intersection by a mini-market.
Bendarroch House is a Norman mansion, probably built around the time Sir Walter Scott and his romantic Waverly novels had made such dwellings all the rage.
The highlight of a quick tour of the house was the Conservatory, which of course reminded us of the Clue game we often played over the years. The Conservatory was what I would call a winter garden: a glass enclosed and roofed addition off the formal living room, that was tiled and tastefully furnished with tea service, tables and whicker chairs with cushions.
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| Bendarroch House |
The first bedroom our hostess showed us was in one of the large turrets on the second floor, and so it had unique round walls and gorgeous view. Lovely and spacious, it had two beds, so Jay and Amy immediately laid down and claimed it for their room.
The second room was just as large and also decorated with attractive 19th century antiques and pictures to go perfectly with the age of the manor house. It had two beds and, for all its fine points, was not as nice as the other. The en suite bathroom was down a few steps, which Julie said could be problematic for us in the middle of the night. Nonetheless, the kids refused to switch.
I sat down in their room with them briefly and asked what made a hotel a good place to stay in their opinions. Jay quickly said location, adding he liked to be able to walk to a pub or to hear live music. Amy said ambiance, like the very hotel room in which we sat.
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| River Tay From Bridge |
I commented that, based on my observation, I thought the real answer for both was strong wifi. Nonetheless, the point is that all travelers should know for themselves what is important.
I quite enjoyed the pallette of different properties Julie picked for this vacation.
We went for a walk, discovering a little bridge over the River Tay, leading to a brownstone village with a handful of cute shops including a handsome pub. Apparently, that bridge was the proper approach to Bendarroch.
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| Unsanctioned Happy Hour in Conservatory |
Despite the charming village, we decided to walk to the mini-market we had seen on our drive to pick up some bread, cheese and Diet Coke to have a quiet meal in the Conservatory. Julie read travel brochures, and Amy fiddled with her iPhone, while Jay and I played cards until after dark. Of course, we occasionally slipped in the mandatory jokes about what Colonel Mustard did to Mrs. Peacock in the Conservatory with a lead pipe.
The next morning, we enjoyed a delicious Scottish breakfast with about ten other guests in the lovely dining room which was set up like a small restaurant. The antique knickknacks made me a bit nervous each time I stood to get juice or some other item, but I managed to avoid being a bull in a china shop.
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| Robert Burns and three lesser known writers |
Soon after breakfast, we were on the road back to Edinburgh. We took a break at the Birks of Aberfeldy, where Robert Burns found inspiration as a young poet.
"Birks" is Scottish for "birch trees," but starting in the late 18th Century, many other types of trees and bushes were transplanted along the walk, making it considerably different than what Burns experienced sitting by the Falls of Moness in 1787,
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| Creek Among the Birks of Aberfeldy |
The area was re-named due to the popularity of his poem, The Birks of Aberfeldy, which set to an existing tune became a hit song. Since there were obviously no recording devices in the 18th or 19th centuries, this must have frequently been sang live by Scots on social occasions.
In any case, we enjoyed a lovely hike, getting a good stretch before buckling up for the last leg of our driving tour.
We soon were on the motorway to our room at the Quality Hotel at the Edinburgh Airport. We soon departed to drop off our rental car and head into Edinburgh on the Airlink Bus for our final night in Scotland.
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