De Colores


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We people watch a great deal, on the way to and from wherever we’re going in this city. It amazes us that there are almost 9 million people in this city alone – and it’s so densely populated that people are living cheerfully cheek-by-jowl. It’s … a lot sometimes, so we’re grateful for the little pauses where we can look around.

One of the things which intrigues are the barrio murals. There’s graffiti all over the city, but quite a lot of it isn’t mere tagging, but actual muralist artwork. There’s a strong muralist tradition here, of course, dating back to Diego Rivera, and the city seems to be pretty ambivalent about artists taking to the streets, as long as the work is good and it’s not invasive or on statuary or whatnot. Those rules are clearly adhered to – there’s ONLY tagging on walls along freeways – so, so dangerous, with the way people drive here! – along sidewalks and streets and on the side of buildings. Even temporary walls put up along construction corridors don’t escape the paint.

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A lot of the art is religious iconography – the Virgin de Guadalupe is everywhere – but there’s also Banksy style stuff, stuff with a more political bent, protest artwork, and more. If you can handle the dust in the air from all the sweepers (there are leagues of twig-broom wielding sweepers all over the city) there are a lot of interesting places to walk and see the public art.

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-D & T

Taking on Teotihuacan


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We had a gradual beginning to our next outing, and were glad to meet our driver in late afternoon for a night outing. What would have been a forty minute drive outside of the city was at least an hour, due to the usual snarl of traffic, but we eventually saw a massive pyramid thrusting up against house-laden hills. As we got closer, we could see that there were people on top… which our driver said was all very well, except that myriad people climb the hundreds of stairs each year to the pyramid tops… and then get sick and dizzy, and fall. He advised us, if we had any altitude sickness, to stay on the ground, and we didn’t need to be told twice.

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Before we got to the pyramid, we stopped at a tiny workshop where a man in a respirator mask was carving obsidian. We were met by a guide who explained how maguey – or agave – was central to the life of the pre-Mayan people; from using the thorns on the tips of the plant as needles, to using its fibers for thread, to using its peeled skin as soap. We were especially intrigued by the fact that this village weaves maguey fiber and cotton to make gorgeous tablecloths, etc. It apparently can be washed and dyed just like cotton.

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The guide introduced us to pulque, the fermented sap of the agave, and as we looked into the middle of the plant, indeed we saw a stretchy sap with little bugs in it… Mesoamericans drank pulque as part of sacred ceremonies. It looks like milk, and they mixed some with coconut milk for us, to help it be less slimy and yeast-flavored. Still not something we wanted, so we politely wet our lips and left it.

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You’d think that, being in Mexico, we’d have chips and salsa every day… and you’d be wrong, because that’s Mexican American food. You (omnivores) can get a taco anywhere, but definitely burritos are nonexistent, and beans aren’t as prevalent as meat and vegetables. So, we were excited to see a molcajete bowl on the menu for supper. A molcajete is the lovely volcanic rock bowl in which one makes guacamole. So, we were serenaded – loudly! – and enjoyed our first guacamole in a week. It was one of the best meals we’ve had here, and there have been some great meals.

And finally – after waiting about twenty minutes for it to be dark enough, we went to the night tour of the Teotihuacan pyramids.

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We imagine it must have been pretty dire to be on your way up one of the pyramids as an unwilling sacrifice… first, the stairs are so steep that T thought seriously about crawling down them backwards. Next, Teotihuacan is still an active archaeological site — so there are piles of rubble off to the side, and though there’s a path that has been there since 100 BC approximately, it’s not exactly smooth, and a moonless night means that you may stub your toe and trip. The guides – and the guards – all carry flashlights or wear them, but it’s still deliciously dark and slightly spooky – or at least it clearly was to some people. We found ourselves smiling a great deal.

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We walked a long way – all the way up the Avenida de los Muertos – Avenue of the Dead to La Pyramid of the Moon and then came back to the Plaza del Sol to sit – fortunately with cushions – on these high stairs in front of the Pyramid of the Sun. It’s dark, and you’re sitting with strangers in the cool darkness, huddling together… and then the light show, projected onto the pyramid, begins. It was the history of the 125,000 person city that in 300 BC was the center of civilization in Mesoamerican times. It was… dramatic and cheesy, in spots, and we rolled our eyes over the mystic blether. But it was still just amazing – and amazing to be there. This valley is very hot during the day, and there are no trees – at all – and just these rocks and and pyramids on the plains. We chose the night tour for just that reason, and it was really magical.

-D & T

Cuernavaca and Taxco

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One of the temptations of any traveler, aside from overindulging in the name of “But, we’re on vacation!” is to assume one knows a people or a culture because one has spent time in a country before. Both D and T have been to Mexico repeatedly, but… can honestly say that they still don’t really know it.

For D, the reasons have involved being at a remove from most people. Staying in hotels with mainly Europeans and Americans, the traveler rarely goes outside of their comfort zone; staying at a university, one only interacts with students and faculty. For T, one of the reasons is that previous trips have involved a mission focus. Being taken to a country solely to “help” its inhabitants can have a limiting and narrowing effect on one’s view of that people. The things one is told, in an earnest effort to be helpful, can come from a racist and classist place, she is realizing. This remains a real problem with the cultural leaching that religion as an institution can do; in an effort to instill a particular set of values, it’s all too easy to erase everything in one’s path… but to get on with the day:

Yesterday was mucho cathedrals, which isn’t difficult when touring small villages established by taken over by the Franciscans. It was about a two hour drive out of the city into increasingly pastoral areas – we saw all the roosters and burros and horses and fields our little hearts desired (also: hand-cleared roadsides, with guys swinging actual sickles, and hand-stacked hay!). It was a relief to get out of the chaotic traffic and enjoy the relatively clear highways, made so by the holiday and people being elsewhere. The roads – toll roads, constructed by the government (and, apparently, with much in the way of scandal, kickbacks, bribes, etc.) – were in very good repair for being so far from the capitol.

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We visited Cuernavaca, the capital of the state of Morelos, which is just a couple hours inland and south of Mexico City. The lower elevation allowed us to leisurely explore the tiny village and its beautiful walled monastery, with well kept grounds and gardens, and an outdoor chapel where today kids still learn their catechism. This church has been in continuous use since its inception in the 1500’s, which is kind of astounding.

We visted a faux silver mine in the state of Guerrero, in the village of Taxco, to the Southwest of Mexico City. It was a wild drive up into the mountains, and the village is embedded into the mountainside all the way to its very tip-top. We climbed many hills but still didn’t get anywhere near all the way up there. There are about four thousand Volkswagen Beetles used to get around the steeply mountainous, narrow roads, which were originally made for travel by burro. There was an overwhelming amount of silver goods for sale, and we were grateful that we hadn’t gone into a real silver mine – they’re still in use, it’s dirty and dangerous, and it was SO unexpectedly warm. We brought jackets and hats, and finally abandoned them in the van. We might have wished for shorts and sandals, but the cobblestone road made for chancy footing, and amusingly, this was “mild” weather to everyone else. 80°F is “mild.” Well, all righty, then.

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Despite the piñatas hanging from every doorway and the cheery bunting hanging above the street, it was easy to forget in Cuernavaca that it was anywhere near Christmas, but the carols being blared from the loudspeaker in the center of town in Taxco definitely helped us remember… there’s nothing like hearing Burl Ives soaring over the imploring of small children trying to sell you chiclet, women and men hawking hats, Aztec calendar plates, placemats, huaraches, hammocks, jewelry and more. Oy.

We had lunch included in our jaunt and went to a family restaurant which had the requisite murals all around. We ran out of time to do the wall murals any justice – the historical one began with Adam and Eve (and a very bizarre serpent which had a human head and torso and body as tail), moved directly to the Aztecs, the Conquistadors held pride of place on the next wall, and then Mexico’s independence wars. The ceiling murals… were a bit more whimsical, depicting angels bringing food. Topless angels, for some reason. You cannot make this stuff up.

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D had a nice time chatting with our fellow tourists, a family from Costa Rica who told us we ought to come and visit their country next time. They tried out their English on T, and she …smiled a lot. It was amusing that the most attention paid to her on this trip so far was in the silver shops, as people assume the woman is the main buyer for all jewelry. Earnest gentlemen following her and actually speaking English to her was unnerving… but for the most part, she only has to say the odd “Que tal?” or “Buen dia” to get by – even though she can eavesdrop on conversations and pick up quite a bit more than she can speak. D, meanwhile, had a long conversation with the tour guide on linguistics, while T got treated to his bad “Spanglish” joke, told in a broad American Midwestern accent: My wife’s name is Conchita, we live in a casita…” ::sigh::

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It was a long day, with variable temperatures and a long drive home through burning sugarcane fields, only to be stopped by horrendous traffic getting back into the city. We didn’t get to the hotel until nearly 8, well after our promised return, but we survived, and since we’re two hours ahead here, weren’t even too starved fro dinner quite yet. Today’s adventures promise to have shorter times on the freeway – and we’re looking forward to the Mayans, Aztecs and all the mystical junk some tour guide is going to tell us about the pyramids. We have a special tour with an archaeologist to offset the nonsense, which will be helpful. ☺

-D & T

P.S. If you want to get an idea what it’s like to look through one of these cathedrals, have a look at this 360° photo sphere.

A Change of Latitude


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Two weeks ago, we hadn’t any real intention of dashing off on an actual vacation… but it seems like a good time to go, as D’s contract in Vacaville is 98% over, and new directions seem to be pointing north… so this will be our last change to go South for a while.

While Mexico City is only four hours away by air, it is a world away in culture. A lively city with a chaotic traffic experience of humans-vs-cars, it provides a colorful backdrop to an immense artistic sensibility. Whether the decorations are murals or spray painted greetings, tiles or wrought iron, there’s never a dull or boring spot on which to rest the eye. A big city isn’t exactly a restful spot for a vacation, but D has wanted T to experience the trip, as he spent a few days in the city when he was a tween, and remembered its frenetic pace and unique sights.

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Today’s fun discovery was an old vegetarian restaurant called Yug which opened in 1965. Delicious and cheap, and you can order anything on the menu, even “carnitas,” which contain no actual carne. Another new thing we learned about Ciudad de Mexico? It’s at a higher altitude than the Bay Area. Predictably, T. is having bouts of nausea, and we’re taking it slooooowly as we’re a bit headachey and out of breath, but fortunately nobody minds the slow walkers here.

We have tours booked for the next 4 days, visiting Cuernavaca, Taxco, Teotihuacan (for an evening light show), Chapultepec (for a before-opening tour), the National Muesum of Anthropology, Coyoacán, the Frida Kahlo Museum, Xochimilco (by boat!), and the National University. All that, in the next 4 days. After that we’ll have to see how we feel, and maybe consider whether we want to do more touristy things or to do some shorter things on our own.

-D & T

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On Iceland; Links

In case we haven’t gotten around to discussing just how we found Iceland this last trip, have a read of the Reykjavik Grapevine’s article, Curiosity Killed the Quiet. It really captures quite well what we found, and why we cannot see ourselves living there, at least not until they get a handle on their tourism.

On the other hand, here are some pictures of the trip, just because it really is a beautiful place to see.

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In totally unrelated news, here are a bunch of stories I’ve been saving to share with you:

-D

Life With a Single Bag

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Years ago, T blogged about her inability to leave our first flat in Scotland without a purse packed with what she considered necessities. Everything, down to food and bandages, was carefully packed away, to prevent what she saw as unnecessary limitations to our comfort and happiness everywhere. It took her a long time to trust our lives without a car, without knowing where all the stores were – it took her a long time to imagine that we didn’t need for her to carry everything for her comfort and safety on her back like a turtle. Thinking back on it, it was like she had lived through some kind of natural disaster — but the only disaster, really, was leaving the idea of “home.”

So, what does it mean that we are here in Iceland for a week with only one suitcase between the two of us? Other than that we forgot our toothbrushes, of course? It’s funny to think back to those anxious times, and compare them to how life finds us today — not any less mistrustful of the universe at large, at least in T’s case, but with a surprisingly clear idea of where home is — with each other. Though we’re less comfortable this trip abroad, we’re a little bit less concerned, if that makes any sense.


As the Viking ship indicates, we’re in Iceland at the moment, in pursuit of a work connection D had – one, an interview, the other, a beginning business meeting. One of the connections is very obviously not going to work out, so we’re waiting – still – and attempting to take this in the nature of a vacation — a little holiday from late summer into the land of winter (forty degree temps, of course, it what passes for late summer around here). We’re taking time to sit around on a blustery morning with coffee, doing pretty much nothing but stretching out on an unfamiliar couch with a book. Tomorrow we will bestir ourselves into the countryside with cameras and guide books, in search of waterfalls and “geysirs.” (Tomorrow, the wind may have dropped from 30 mph gusts!) But, for today, we are sitting, and looking thoughtfully at what has changed.

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We first came to Iceland from our lives in Glasgow, and found this country, probably as many British people do, a reasonable exchange. Certainly there was more sunshine, more extremes in weather, more light. The Icelandic people we met remembered us, were happy to chat over coffee shop counters, telling us where to go, what to see. Comparing then to now – our last trip here in 2012 – it seems a vastly different place. Tourism caught fire here in 2014, and has increased about fifty percent each year since. It’s visible in many ways – the hordes of people wandering the streets, unmoored, snapping photographs of everything, even at six in the morning. (Courtesy of flights which arrive at 4 a.m. and nothing open until 9!) The begrimed buildings, sporting, instead of the quirky artistic graffiti murals, random tagging, and the weary people, serving too many guests to chat. We visited our favorite shops and then went away, a little troubled. Nowhere stays the same, of course, but the Iceland we enjoyed seems to be no longer enjoying itself.

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We are not the same, either, of course. We’re older and trying harder to be more realistic about what we can and cannot truly do in the long term. While T can write anywhere, we’re trying to think where is easiest and best, in terms of productivity. While D can work anywhere, the business contacts he has here are best looked at long-distance. Using our most firmly critical and realistic gazes, we don’t see how living here would work out for the best. We’re having to be harder on our dreams and whimsies – obviously because that’s part of being boring old adults, but another reason is that at the end of our lives we don’t want to be left with just whimsy and wishful thinking. We left for Scotland on a whim, but we’re not going to leave the US again with quite so little preparation! We’re hopeful that doesn’t mean not leaving at all, but we’ll have to see how it goes. In the meantime, the kettle is calling on this dark and blustery day, and it’s time for another cuppa and maybe a movie, and then we’ll wrap up and head out into the lashing rain to see what society can be found. People visit California for the sun – we’re visiting Iceland and turning our faces up to the rain. It’s a strange puzzle of a world, isn’t it?

Journey to the Center South of the Earth.

Finding ourselves with a rare gift of a few days with no appointments or expectations, we decided to head down to Southern California to visit with D’s family. Rather than fly, we figured we’d just drive, as SoCal remains about 8 hours distant, barring traffic. Given the choice between being in airports on Christmas or sitting in our own vehicle? Not that difficult a decision, really. We caught up on chitchat and podcasts (NPR’s Latino USA has an amazing piece on Jewish Latino culture that was really worth hearing) and made surprisingly good time.

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Our one concern was the roads – the changing season has brought oddly torrential rains and some floods to the lowlands, and freezing temps even to our little neck of the woods, which is at sea level, and we wondered how much it was going to snow, heading over the Grapevine. We found that for Southern California, it was snowy … meaning there were maybe 3 inches built up, in spots, and the road was a wee bit wet, in spots. (It was a bit odd finding ice on the top of the car in San Bernadino, though). It was gorgeous and we were grateful to arrive when it was already on the ground, with no issue of the road being closed.

Our time was mostly spent watching D’s sibs and their various children (7 nieces and nephews!) enjoy their various aerial toys and putting together an evil trampoline that took far longer than it should have (never underestimate the power of people not reading directions). There was plenty of interesting food (potatoes, sliced thinly, on …pizza? Surprisingly tasty, with an Alfredo sauce), many, many, many citrus and palm trees, and a trip to the Palm Springs Aerial Tramway, to which we hadn’t gone since …2002 or so. An old photograph shows us there in high summer, shivering as we snap a photograph. We’d forgotten that it wasn’t just the cold that had chased us down last time… it was a few other details, like the fact that it’s very high!

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The last time we were in one of the trams, they had much smaller cars (you can see one in the picture above). Nowadays, the cars are round, and the floor rotates around 360° over the course of moving up nearly a vertical mile, from 2,643 feet elevation at the embarkation station to 8,516 feet at debarkation. D. thought this would be fun (T was, as she always is in trams, dubious). We found that having the windows constantly sliding to the side, while trying to brace and take pictures, wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be. Though it did tend to distract from the disturbing bits (going over the pylons and swinging nauseatingly baaaack and forth), overall we think that it would have been nice, for the photographers, to be stable rather than slowly rotating about. Ah, well, the kids got a kick out of it.

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Though some of our party were unprepared for the realities of snow (one child discovered that Crocs and bare feet do not make for enjoyable snow play) and certainly neither T. nor D. expected Southern Cal to be cold enough to have brought scarves or ear-covering hats (T. counted herself fortunate to find an extra pair of knit gloves in the car and D. was very grateful for his flannel-lined cardigan), it was a pleasant trip up, but one we won’t be taking again soon. While it’s quite a wonderful view from the top of Mt. San Jacinto, both T. and D. were struggling with the altitude more than they remembered (which is probably why we only made a brief visit the summer of 2002 – yeah, it was snowy up there and we were in shorts, but we couldn’t breathe), and T’s lungs didn’t really enjoy the hike from the parking lot in dry 29°F/-1°C air (her ten-minute coughing jag reminded her why she’d never choose to live in a high desert). We were a bit disappointed in our performance, but high altitude fans we are not. *waves to our friends in Denver*

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The air was astoundingly clear for Southern California. We could see all the way to the Salton Sea (which was just cut out of the photograph on the far right in the shot below).

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This trip also gave D the excuse to break in his new camera. It was a treat to hold onto something so much smaller and lighter, and get some truly detailed and clear pictures — but focus is tricky — as he realized when T. met a friend from Iowa for lunch (the joys of others traveling to see family nearby!) and he took a picture of them which left them both blurry, but the road behind in sharp focus. We also realize we need to get an additional battery pack for the new rig – at the top of the mountain, D. ran out of power, so spent some time hanging about in the lodge with the charger plugged into a free socket. Ah, well. We’ll be better prepared next time.

And now we take stock of our lives, and tumble into the new year. Joy to you, friends — stay dry and WARM.

-D & T

Signs of the Times

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Continuing to be separated by a common language… One of the things we like to photograph when abroad are road signs, street signs, and signs in general (the sumo-baby signs indicating places to change the diapers of gigantic babies are a particular favorite). Digital warnings like ‘Soft Tyres Waste Fuel’ (Better get that pressure checked, pal) and ‘Tiredness Kills’ are amusing all on their own, but today’s sign pictures are of printed signs – fortunately encountered when we were NOT driving. Possible Queuing Traffic Ahead? OK, sure, you can figure that one out, but it’s certainly not the most straightforward way to explain things, at least not to our minds. Lots of road work on the roads between Oban and Glasgow, and lots of places where they’ve put in temporary signal lights, which causes traffic to back up until the light changes. Thus, possible queuing, as it happens. Meanwhile, ‘Oncoming Vehicles in Middle of Road’ is a sign we saw frequently, driving around the Oban area. If there’s a narrow bridge, or underpass, and the traffic is constricted down to one lane, then you’ll see these… and oncoming vehicles in the middle of the road, which, back in the hinterlands of the highlands, happens frequently anyway, especially with the dreaded White Van Man. (Apparently, people driving white vans don’t own them, are working for someone else, and drive hell-bent for leather. Or, so we are told.)

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These two (hidden dip and blind summit) were sort of perplexing to us. The blind summit sort of makes sense – there’s a hill ahead of you and you don’t know what’s on the other side of it (which … duh?). Hidden dip, though? Is that telling us that there’s going to be another vehicle in the dip, or what, exactly? In neither case where we saw these signs was there anything terribly unusual about the conditions. We’re also wondering if Captain Obvious might make up a sign telling the drivers that they can’t see what’s around bends in the road, too. Come to think of it, though, haven’t there been “Blind Corner” signs? Hmm….

And last but not least: the Yes on Independence sign. Lots of strong sentiment about independence, still, and I don’t see that changing any time soon. If anything, it’s gotten stronger since the vote.

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Our Scottish Adventure is ending – we arrive back in California on Thursday afternoon. We’re looking forward to 1) washing all of our clothes, and 2) wearing some other clothes for maybe the next several months. Yes, you can get by on a week’s worth of clothing if you’ve got access to a washer in the flat … but you’ll come to hate those same clothes after wearing and rewearing them for a month!

-D & T

At Home In Your Church

Thing 1’s parents live in a converted church, and his father A., an industrial designer and artist, was most happy to give us all the details on the building, the grounds, the loch and the history thereof. The building itself was built in 1844, and was a major renovation of an existing church. With a bit of ingenuity, Thing 1’s dad A came up with a plan to convert the disused church into a home.

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To the left are the models A. built, to show how he wanted the house. The builders constructed his house from these models, basically just putting their signature on the drawings A. had also made up and calling it well enough planned to build from. After all, this wasn’t construction, really – the church outside wasn’t really changed, with the exception of adding windows and doors – it was, though, a major undertaking, constructing a living space inside the shell of stone.

To their pride, A&F’s belfry is home to one of the largest colonies in the UK of long-eared bats. They have both long-eared and common Pipistrelle bats (one roosts in the belfry, the other in the attic), as well as swallows (who happily share space with the bats in the belfry).

We were truly impressed with the house, and want one of our own! Now, we just need to find a stone church constructed 150 years ago….

-D & T

Antlers and Dolphins and Puffins, Oh My!

Last week was quite a busy week! We spent the week “glamping” in a lovely caravan-camper in the village of Appin while jetting about with Thing 1 and J. The upper highlands are one place where one REALLY needs a car, as the villages are tiny and separated by miles of windy road, so we were especially chuffed to have a friend on hand, who was happy to drive us to all of his favorite places, and to some he’d never visited before. We headed – in one remarkably long day – out to visit Iona Abbey and Staffa Island. In order to do this, we first had to take the ferry from Oban to the town of Craigmure on the island of Mull, which takes about 45 minutes. We then took a bus via single-track roads (yes – one lane, with places to pull out and let opposing traffic pass – it’s not a joyful thing at all) all the way across the island, which takes about an hour. We then took another ferry over to the island of Iona. You can check out all of the pictures here.

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From Iona, we then took a wee tour boat out to Staffa island – to see puffins! Along the way, we got to visit with a friendly pod of dolphins, who were quite happy to play along in the boat wake. We were quite sorry to see them fall behind, as our boat accelerated, but they were joyful to see in person, in the wild, playing in the water.

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Staffa Island is interesting, from a geologic perspective, with columnar basalt formations, caverns, etc. It is also quite steep, full of peat bogs which want to suck off your shoes, big rocks in the middle of the trail, and steep cliffs. For us, though (well – for D), Staffa was mostly a convenient place to visit with the puffins. These little birds – and they are quite surprisingly smaller than you’d think – have pretty much no fear of people. They’ll happily waddle around a few feet away, looking quizzically at you if you’re where they want to be. It’s a bit of a slog through marshy ground to get there (UNDERSTATEMENT! – t), but well worth the hike. Check out all of the Staffa pictures here.

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When we say it was a busy week, we mean it. We are well exhausted, from long drives and lots of walking/hikes, but we had such a good time, and T. looks back at high hills and cliffs with a sense of satisfaction from having climbed them (though her thigh muscles are still faintly protesting). We walked out to visit Glenfinnnan (of Harry Potter train-bridge fame), pottered about a bit in Glencoe, and took a gondola ride up to the top of Aonach Mor. Not to mention getting to visit with Thing 1’s parents and oler sister, eating loads of good vegetarian food, playing rowdy games of Cranium and Articulate (we will be purchasing that one – it’s awesome fun), and visiting the “Hollow Mountain,” aka Cruachan Power Station – the first “reversible” hydro-power station in the world (when the need electricity, they let the water run out of their reservoir; when they can buy electricity during off-peak usage times, they reverse the turbines and pump the water back into the reservoir). A good time was had, but we’re most grateful to be back in the land of fewer “midgies,” as they call the voracious mosquito, and more internet connectivity!

-D & T