Scotland
I’m
a Scot at heart. My roots lie there, deep
in the soil
of Strathlachlan, Argyll.
I
even have a ruined castle, Castle Lachlan, which was bombarded by the
English
because my clan, the MacLachlans,
supported
the Jacobites at Culloden. A new castle
was built in the late
eighteenth century and the twenty-fifth clan chief still lives
there.
My
great-grandfather (aged 21) came out to Australia from Scotland in 1875
on the clipper
ship City of Adelaide. His amazing handwritten (in pencil)
diary of the
voyage is now in the Mortlock Museum in
Adelaide,
South Australia, preserved for its historical importance. Consequently
I have
extraordinary déjà-vu feelings when I return to the
haunting,
picturesque
country of Scotland. One day I'm going to write his story as a novel,
but it
will be a work of passion, and will take more than a little time and
energy!
The
City of Adelaide (seen here) is
one of only two
clipper ships left from that era. Originally docked on the River Clyde,
it sank
in a storm and for years lay abandoned in a yard as a wreck. It has now
been
transported back to Adelaide where its restoration will take many
years, but will
be of much historical significance to families like my own.
Recently,
I made a pilgrimage with
my daughter back to Scotland. It was fantastic, and something I can now
look
back on with much pleasure. I took many photos, the best of which I
have now
placed into a gallery for my own, and your, enjoyment. Please take a
look. If
you would like to keep one or two I do ask that you place $2 for each
in my
Paypal account and I will send you the original. (It helps pay for more
travels!)
I was
tuned into a program about Sir Paul McCartney and his songs. The
presenter
played Mull of Kintyre and of
course the drone
of the bagpipes took me straight back to Scotland, the place of my
ancestors,
and my recent trip to the Isle of Mull.
But
into
my mind's eye came not an image of the tiny villages of white and grey
cottages
clinging together, or formidable grey stone castles perched above
cliffs, or a
restless sea slopping onto a grey rocky shore, but one of a bleak,
wild,
windswept moor between purple-brown hills, cradling three small lochs,
like
mirrors of ice. It wasn't Sir Paul's Mull of Kintyre, but it was close
enough.
When
the
song finished I took out my diary, which strangely fell open at the
very page
where I described my trip on that day. (Scotland is a land of ghosts,
myths and
legends, so why was I surprised it would do that?) I had already
written,
"I am blown away with Scotland - I had no idea it was so beautiful."
But the Isle of Mull, it seemed, had sheer taken my breath away.
I had
been lucky, for the May weather was bitter, but calm and clear. The sea
had
been a millpond, and the sky cloudy but benign. On the day of my
journey, the
road from Craignure to Fionnphort
(what a lovely Gaelic name) wound through those rugged craggy hills
topped with
purple bald heads, so alien to a city-bred Aussie, and I was captivated.
'Up
there,' said the tour guide. 'Can you see him?'
We
craned
our necks. See whom? What?
'The
Monarch of the Glen. Up
there on the highest crag of the hill.'
He
was there
indeed, sentinel of the moor and the lochs, huge antlers raised in challenge, a magnificent Highland deer.
He
disappeared from view in an instant as our bus took us onward.
Little
silver streams bickered through the valleys of those awesome crags,
which gave
way to wild fields edged with low stone walls. Shaggy tan-coloured
Highland
cows cropped short green-brown grass. Groves of firs marched along the
contours. Around the huddles of white houses, bright blobs of yellow
clustered
- gorse bushes in riotous flower.
Our
bus
rattled along the very edge of the island, where the water lay calm and
peaceful, fringed with little white and grey stony beaches, mossy mud,
and tiny
promontories of washed up detritus snagged by pirate rocks. But,
stretching
away to the distant hazy mountains, was a
treacherous
sea. That day it was playing tranquil and serene, but tomorrow? Would
it be a
raging monster? Would the wind be ripping along the crags and flinging
sea
spray onto the windows of the white cottages? Or would it be grey and
placid
beneath shrouding white mist, the tiny town of Fionnphort
emerging from time like "Brigadoon"?
But
whatever happens in the world, my three lochs and the brown
moor with its
protecting Monarch, will never change. Is a deer there still? Sniffing
the wind
and staring at the tourist buses as they roll along the road, guarding
his
territory from two-legged invaders?
There'll be a next time for me. Whenever that is.
My recent trip to the Emerald Isle was something I
had
always wanted to do but never accomplished. Loved it - and yes, it's
green!
Very friendly people helped me all the way, and my journey took in the
usual
tourist venues. Even so, I felt the attraction of the country - the
ageless charisma of ancient sites, towns
and cities, represented
in myth, legend and song. My camera worked overtime once again, and you
can see
the best in my gallery (under the Scottish ones) – all for sale if you
wish,
for $2 each.
I've just discovered the United
Arab Emirates - it being the
stopover point on the flight to Athens. Fourteen hours on a plane from
Australia and you are ready to shout "Get me outta here!" And there
you are in Dubai, or Abu Dhabi, depending on your carrier.
Well, you either love it or you
hate it, and I have to say I
LOVE it! The city itself appears "kitsch extraordinaire", with fanciful
buildings designed by architects from La-la Land, or so it seems - some
rather
like birthday cakes gone wrong.
But it has a certain je ne sais quoi, producing
smiles, and feelings that can only be
described as awe.
My favourite treats in Dubai
are: the Red Bus rides with hop
on, hop off options and the great cruise along the Creek; the Dubai
Mall for
shopping heaven, plus its fish aquarium wall, and dancing fountain; the
Mall of
the Emirates for the indoor ski slope; the Burj Khalifa; "The Palace
Hotel
- the Old Town" and its amazing Arabic architecture (one of the staff
was
called Aladdin); the Wafi, where you think you've suddenly done a Dr
Who to
ancient Egypt; the museum in the old fort.
And the souks! Well, they have to be
seen to be believed, especially the shops with gold bling - totally
mind
boggling.
On the last trip I did a tour to the canyons and mountains,
through the desert, past a camel farm, and into Oman. Fabulous! And I
did love
the picnic lunch in among the rocks and cliffs - laid out on real
carpets.
I rank my trip to Israel among
my special treats, for my
dear friends took me everywhere for a wonderful overview of their
country. It
was amazing - seeing for real the places I'd heard about, but never
thought I
would ever visit. Highlights: Tel Aviv; the magnificent Holocaust
Museum in
Jerusalem; the old town of Jerusalem itself; the Sea of Galilee;
swimming in
the Dead Sea; Jaffa; a night in a kibbutz; the ruins at Masada; Old
Acre; and
much more. I just loved it.
