Weekend at the Burn

I’m a little behind on updating (already), so this post is not about this past weekend, but the one before that, and oh what a wonderful weekend it was!  I, with my eight FSP mates, our trip advisor, and two University of Glasgow professors, trekked off to northeastern Scotland to spend the weekend reading and learning about Scottish history and literature in an 18^th-century mansion house.  I think the lovely Miss Emmy’s reaction to this tidbit of news was quite appropriate – “What are you, some member of the landed gentry?”

A man in full traditional Scottish dress greeted us at the door – finally, I have seen somebody wearing a kilt! – and ushered us into the family room to tell us a bit about the history of the house and 190 acre estate.  Built in 1791, the house has possessed a variety of owners and has even been visited by Queen Victoria and Prince Albert in the 19^th century.  During the early 20^th century, the Burn House belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Herbert Russell and their children James and Marjorie.  However, in 1944, James Russell, aged 21, was killed in action during WWII.  Thus, in 1948, the family decided to donate the house in James’ memory to be used as a holiday and study center for students, graduates, and academic staff around the world.  Pretty generous, eh?  Now the house has been completely modernized and includes a drawing room, dining room, TV room, indoor games room, and 18 bedrooms.  

the Burn House

After learning about the very touching history of the house, we sat down to eat a hearty Scottish dinner, during which David (the man in the kilt) introduced us to the most popular, and most sickening, soda in Scotland: Irn Bru (think liquidized cotton candy).  And I thought haggis was going to be the most disgusting thing Scotland had to offer… Once we were finished with our meal, David directed us to the drink cart (fortunately Irn Bru free) where we all fixed ourselves a steamy cup of tea before settling down in a variety of squashy armchairs to receive our first lecture on Scottish writer Lewis Crassic Gibbon. I have come to notice that Scotland has a tendency to make me feel very absurd – here I was, holding a fancy little cup and saucer of tea, nibbling on delicious buttery biscuits, and listening to a very intelligent Scottish man teach me about tartantry and tradition. Like I said, absurd.

The next day, we received a couple of more lectures before setting off on our first field trip to Dunnottar Castle!  I’ve been longing to see a castle since I first read Harry Potter, but I don’t think I was really prepared for just how striking the experience would be.  The day was a pretty nondescript one, windy and drizzly, until we stepped around a corner of a little stony path and there it was – Dunnottar Castle, a ruined medieval fortress sitting atop a rocky headland, surrounded by steep cliffs plunging about 50 meters into the North Sea.  It almost hurt to look at it.

Dunnottar Castle

Like any over excitable girl from a landlocked state, I first scampered down to the water to stand in the waves and fill my pockets with seashells and pretty rocks.  I regret this decision now, because it turns out that these sorts of treasures aren’t nearly as lovely when you take them away from their home.

my collection of seashells

After exploring the shoreline, I picked my way up to the narrow strip of land to visit the actual buildings, largely built in the 15^th and 16^th centuries (although the site is believed to have been an early fortress of the Dark Ages).  Before coming to Scotland, I always thought of castles to be a sort of thing you appreciated from afar; I never imagined actually getting the chance to wander through the individual rooms. There was so much to take in – crumbling spiral staircases, mossy passageways, and far too many exhilarating views of craggy cliffs and the pebbly grey shoreline below.  Leaving was a melancholy affair, but when we got back to the house, David had set out tea and chocolate muffins for us next to a crackling fire in the family room.  I wish he could have come back to Glasgow with us…

The next day, I woke up early to go on a run and explore the grounds.  I didn’t actually get that much of a workout in, however, because I kept getting distracted by the river, cows, grassy knolls, heather, thistle, and turning fall colors.  At one point I even ended up stumbling upon an old ruin of some sort, just lurking in the forest, growing saplings from its floor. Another interesting discovery was a long stone tunnel that traveled from one side of the house to the other.  David told us that this was the "Cattle Tunnel."  Apparently, the former lady of the house did not like seeing the cows pass from pasture to pasture right through her yard everyday, therefore, the tunnel was built so that their daily movement would go undetected. Oooh rich people.

the "Cattle Tunnel"

After the run and breakfast, we all tried our best to beg David to let us stay at the Burn House for the rest of the term, but alas, it was time to leave.  We said our tearful goodbyes to David and the house and set off on our final excursion to Edzell Castle.  Edzell is also a ruined 16^th century castle, but is significantly less rugged than Dunnottar – more of a country home than a defensive fortress.  It is still very beautiful though with reddish stone buildings surrounding the courtyard and many sheep grazing around its perimeters.  The castle also includes a walled garden, laid out by Sir David Lindsay in 1604.  Intricate relief carvings line the walls that surround the immaculate hedges and roses and apparently this type of garden is unique to Scotland.  I can’t even begin to imagine the amount of work that goes into maintaining it.     

view of the Edzell garden - taken from inside the castle

After Edzell, it was unfortunately time to journey back through the hills to Glasgow.  Yet even though we don't have any Davids in kilts to serve us tea and chocolate muffins here, at least we are surrounded by good company.

For more pictures of the Burn House, Dunnottar, and Edzell, click here!

The Burn House, Dunnottar, & Edzell

Wallace Monument and Queen Elizabeth Forest Park

A month or two ago when I was registering with the University of Glasgow, I also had to choose some well-known Scottish landmarks that I would like to visit during International Student Orientation.  I selected the Wallace Monument and Queen Elizabeth Forest Park.  So last Wednesday I piled into a big tour bus with my roommate Maddie and a bunch of other international students to embark on our first adventure into the Scottish countryside!

Our first stop was the Wallace Monument.  The monument is a 220-foot high stone tower situated on Abbey Craig about two miles north of the town of Stirling.  It was completed in 1869 after eight years’ construction and was built to commemorate Sir William Wallace and the Scottish victory at The Battle of Stirling Bridge in 1297. It was from on top of Abbey Craig that Wallace watched the English army approach before leading the Scots into battle...  

the Wallace Monument on top of Abbey Craig

We learned all this from a very patriotic Scot dressed as William Wallace himself who gave us a very entertaining and theatric performance of the tale.  It wasn’t quite as dramatic as Braveheart, but his accent was certainly much better than Mel Gibson’s. We were even allowed to pose with him afterwards!

please excuse the awkwardness of this photo - "William Wallace" held his
dagger to my throat right before the photo was taken and I was most bewildered

After our brief history lesson, we were allowed to enter and climb the 226 spiral steps to the top of the monument.  There were three levels before the top, each containing a room that was dedicated to something pertaining to Wallace or the battle.  One room housed a 3D model of Wallace that spoke (a little hokey I know) and included information on his death, which was rather gruesome.  Apparently he was hanged, drawn and quarter, decapitated, and then divided into pieces - his head and body parts sent around England to be put on display to remind what would happen to traitors to the crown.  I know it sounds horrific (and it is), but apparently this was considered standard punishment for those who committed treason. Yikes.

a statue of Sir William Wallace outside the monument

Once we got to the top of the monument, the day cleared up significantly and we had beautiful and expansive views of the town of Stirling and Stirling Castle, the Ochil Hills, Forth Valley, the Trossachs, and Loch Lamond.  It was absolutely stunning and much more of what I expected Scotland to be like.  So green and so many sheep!  We were eventually driven down by the whipping wind though and boarded our bus again to head off to Queen Elizabeth Park.

the view of Forth Valley from on top of the monument

Along the way we stopped right outside of the town Callander to visit one of Scotland’s most famous celebrities – Hamish the Highland bull! I still don't quite understand the hype behind Hamish, as Highland cattle seem to be everywhere in the countryside, but that didn't stop me from petting him (he was exceptionally friendly), taking a billion photos, and then buying a Hamish poster for Maddie's and my room.

Hamish enjoying some attention

Then it was off again to Queen Elizabeth Forest Park!  The park is named after Queen Elizabeth the second and lies between Loch Lamond and Strathyre.  The park is filled with forests, mountains, lochs, small settlements and villages, glens, and abandoned railway lines; all of the trails make for great walking and even mountain biking.  Unfortunately, we didn't have much time at the the park and only got to explore a limited area.  Maddie and I started at the very touristy David Marshall Lodge, where we ate some very Scottish and very yummy potato and leek soup, and then took a long walk around the surrounding area.  Even if we didn't get to visit all the beautiful sites the park had to offer, we did find some wild blackberries, a lovely waterfall, several arresting hilltop views, and a playground that was like a miniature Hogwarts (sorry for all the HP references - they're so easy to make here!).

Queen Elizabeth Forest Park

The day was a long one and we felt like quintessential tourists, but I enjoyed every moment.  It felt so refreshing to journey out of the city and into the countryside.  Even though I'm very appreciative of the urban experience I'll be gaining in Glasgow, my trek around these iconic Scottish sites only reaffirmed that I am a small town country girl through and through! 

Maddie's boots hanging out with some blackberries

And for your viewing pleasure, here are some more photos of the monument and park:

Wallace Monument and Queen Elizabeth Forest Park

Glasgow

I arrived in Glasgow around 7 am last Sunday and the view out the plane window was absolutely breathtaking.  It looked exactly like what you think Scotland should be - rolling green hills, fog, flocks of sheep, rocky outcrops, etc. etc.  I was half expecting a castle, a man with bagpipes and a kilt, or the Hogwarts Express to appear out of the mist at any moment.  Naturally, I was thrilled.

Unfortunately, Glasgow is not like this at all.  With a population of over one million, Glasgow is Scotland's largest city, makes up about 41% of the country's population, and is apparently the "Stabbing Capital" of Europe. Charming. So even though "Glasgow" comes from the Gaelic word "glaschu" which means "dear, green place," the city itself is pretty bleak. I'm sure it will become more enchanting as the term progresses, but my first impressions all included words such as "dingy," "sketchy" and if I’m feeling particularly Scottish, “dodgy.” However, I believe I am being entirely too harsh.  Situated on the River Clyde, Glasgow used to be one of the world’s most distinguished centres for heavy engineering and shipbuilding during the Industrial Revolution, therefore, it has been undergoing a bit of urban renewal ever since.  So to give the place a little more credit, it is certainly rich in history and does have a smattering of promising nooks and crannies.  My FSP mates and I have already discovered some beautiful parks, the botanical gardens, several used books stores, as well as an old church that has been converted to a bar and boasts 250 different types of whiskey.  

view of Glasgow from above

And obviously, one of Glasgow’s most redeeming factors is the university.  Established in 1451, the University of Glasgow is the fourth oldest university in the United Kingdom, after Oxford, Cambridge, and St. Andrews.  And I thought Dartmouth was old! It has had three different locations throughout the city and only two buildings of the original structure remain.  Most of the other buildings were built around 1870 in the Gothic revival style; so really, most of the campus looks much older than it actually is.  It is still very impressive though and I am eager to begin taking classes.

University of Glasgow from the back

the very Hogwarts-esque cloisters

Another endearing facet of Glaswegian culture is the Glaswegians themselves!  The Scottish pride themselves on being a very patriotic and friendly people and I can certainly see why.  Most every Scot I’ve interacted with has had some pretty fierce “smeddum” (spunk) and they all are exceptionally willing to give me directions, advice, information, or simply sociable conversation.  One of the most interesting pieces of advice I have gleaned from a local thus far is that I should not wear any of my Dartmouth clothing, as green and white are the colors of the football (that is, soccer) team, the Celtics, and if I sport these colors in the right (or rather wrong) part of town, avid fans of the rival team, the Rangers, will most likely beat me up.  So, if I am to become a football fan while here, my best bet seems to be to support Aberdeen, as they, much like the Quidditch team the Chudley Canons in Harry Potter, are simply no good.     

Also, accents galore! The younger people are pretty easy to understand, but when it comes to the older generation of Scots, all you can do is smile and nod when they talk to you.  Listening to them is like listening to a song - you can tell they're speaking English, but you only catch about every third word. As I said though, most everybody is very friendly and willing to repeat himself or herself once or twice.  And apparently I sound funny to them too. A professor of Scottish literature recently told me he liked my “cowboy accent.”  I also had a bus driver mimic riding a horse and shooting pistols when I told him I come from Colorado.

And of course, there is the weather.  I thought I would be prepared for the rain as I view Hanover as a rather rainy place and I was sure to come armed with galoshes (“Wellies”), an umbrella, and a raincoat.  Boy was I wrong.  Somehow the rain feels colder and more miserable in the city and the wind makes using an umbrella or hood entirely pointless.  When it comes to dealing with the inclement weather, the Glaswegian advice seems to be simply this – just give up.  Most of them walk about wearing their everyday normal clothes and don’t seem to be the slightest bit bothered by the fact that the driest they will be all day is when they step out of their showers in the morning.  Oh well, at least this will probably build character right?

So basically, even though Scottish writer Lewis Crassic Gibbon described Glasgow as, “that strange, deplorable city which has neither sweetness nor pride, the vomit of a cataleptic commercialism,” it does have a certain degree of charm and I’m sure this term abroad will be a very worthwhile adventure, especially once I get into the Highlands and/or hear “Scotland the Brave” played on the bagpipes.

Here is a link to some pictures I took of the Botanical Gardens: 

Glasgow's Botanical Gardens

More stories and pictures to come soon!