Scotland is Sexy

Day one of the Haggis tour and I find it hard to believe that Scotland and England share a border.  It all feels so…Scottish.  This is a good thing.

I learned several things today from Carol, our Scottish guide.
1)  Scotland is the source of all important inventions, including tarmac, telephones, and epidurals.  It doesn’t matter that Alexander Graham Bell left Scotland at the age of six – according to Carol, he invented the telephone at the age of five, making it – bingo! – Scottish.
2)  Anyone important comes from Scotland, i.e., Sean Connery (the best Bond and the only one worth mentioning).
3)  Scotland weather is never ‘bad’.  Instead, it’s ‘liquid sunshine’ comes in three stages
– Glorious
– Atmospheric
– Dramatic
4)  Scotland is sexy, from its scenery to its people (see point number two or listen to any Scottish accent for proof)
These, and several more points, are deciding factors in why I am happy to be an honorary Scot for the week (“You’re all Scottish on this trip,” announced Carol).
We kicked off the trip from Edinburgh to Fort Augustus with a lecture from Carol & Colin (our driver) about the Deep Scottish Love we will soon experience.  Apparently the ‘DSL’ will increase once we have spotted 75 white horses from the windows of the coach.  So far we have 58 to go – it was a good day for white horses.  I’ll keep you posted on the impending DSL, which has prompted the ‘no snogging’ rule on the coach.
Despite the crappy – oh, I mean atmospheric – weather, all 39 of us filed off the bus at each photo stop, because the scenery was irresistable.  It’s nice to be in a place where I can blow my nose and black stuff doesn’t come out.

I just had haggis for the first time – there’s a video, will put it up soon.  It was…different.  If I didn’t know what it was (sheep insides) it may have been different, but all I could think was that it was spicy and had the texture of chunky vomit.  This coming from a girl who has definitely eaten suspect hot dogs and lunch meat in her day.
Aside from that, we’re staying in Morag’s Lodge, which is a great little haven on the banks of Loch Ness, and I just had a huge feast of baked potato and various toppings.  There’s a cosy bar with games, couches, and free internet.  My room is called ‘William Wallace’, considerably better than one of the other rooms, ‘Shallow Grave’.
Sadly, no sign of Nessie.  As I was taking photos of Loch Ness, a figure floated into my peripheral vision.  My heart stopped for a second, but resumed beating when I quickly realized it was a dirty grey swan, not the elusive monster.  I’ve accepted that finding Nessie may not be in my future.  I’ll have to settle for reconstructions, as seen in this photo.
I’d better wrap this up and head back to Morag’s bar.  The evening’s entertainment starts soon.  His name is Sweaty Donald, and his reputation, as you can imagine, precedes him.  I’m not missing this.  If everything I learned today is true, he’s sure to be sexy.

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