Staggering to the finish line

I am home, safe and sound if a bit sleep deprived and jet lagged. It’s a lovely day in Oregon, cloudy with a chance of sprinkles, just like every day in Scotland. Although there were times I wanted to stay in Scotland for longer the last few days and nights in the hostel on the Royal Mile in Edinburgh during the height of the Fringe were just what I needed to make me be ready to come home.

All my previous hostel experiences were fantastic, and I knew Brodie’s would pale in comparison but I have to say it was overcrowded, unorganized and worn down but the hordes of backpackers on their way through. There were at least 50 people at 93 High Street where I was, more than half women and only 2 womens’ toilets worked. One had a sign that said “this toilet is bung”, whatever that means, but nothing was done to fix it when I left on Tuesday. The red tape across the door kept anyone from chancing it anyway. The 3 shower stalls, although advertised as “brilliant”, a favorite Brit word for really good, needed to serve the 50 people. My last morning I got up about 6 to take a shower and avoid the crowd, when I walked in the shower room a young man was about to shave in the wee sink just inside the door. Although I am sure he was a nice person, and actually quite cute, it was a bit more than I could handle to head for my stall, even with a door and try to deal with getting dressed in the public area afterwards.

So back to my room I went trying to keep the very squeaky doors from waking my room-mates, a woman from Canada and 2 teenaged boys from Glasgow who had arrived at 9 the evening before and then left for a club, returning at 3am. This time I regathered my clothes, abandoning towel, shampoo, etc and dressed in the Women’s toilets, the unbunged one. I dragged my gear out into the hallway, where everyone sorts and repacks and threw inside everything I couldn’t take on the plane, which just left my toothbrush, passport, cash and a book. I was a bit flustered at this point, but not crying, more pissed off with the whole situation, so I struggled into my now quite cumbersome pack and walked down the stairs and into the street.

Fortunatly for me and them, a Starbucks happens to be just on the next corner. I dragged my dishelved, somewhat unkempt self over there and ordered a mocha. Basic survival skills still working. I asked for the key to the women’s room but it was out of order, are we sensing a theme here? The barista said just use the disabled. Well, that worked for me, I was just about there as it was. If someone had offered me a push in a wheelchair I would have taken it. So in the quite clean, working order, spacious really, retreat, I brushed teeth, washed face, combed and braided hair, etc. I even had a brand new Fringe tee shirt that I bought the day to wear. After using the toilet, no one bothers with the euphemism Restroom, I pulled the orange cord by mistake. Did I mention pulling the orange cord once before in a rest room to find that it sounds an alarm? Stranded person on toilet sort of thing.

Luckily they were busy making lattes that morning as I was almost dressed again by the time someone knocked on the door. I cracked it open, false alarm, sorry. He was so relieved that he just said no problem and went on. I slunk upstairs to the sipping lounge for my coffee, juice and scone, where no one knew me and for once I had no interest in meeting anyone.

After a full recovery, I dragged my pack outside, literally. have I mentioned all the books I bought?  I could hardly pick it up anymore and struggled across the street to the taxi stand. The blessed taxi drivers just sit there in queue (just say Q) waiting for the next rider to choose the first taxi. My driver saw me coming and hopped out to open the door and throw my pack inside. My kind of service. Things were picking up on the Royal Mile as I was leaving but I only smiled to myself, knowing I was on my way home and didn’t look back.

Locked in the National Library

This is my fourth time writing this story and so each time it gets briefer. The computer at the hostel would only post the title, not the story. I tried several times until I was worried one of you would read the title with no explanation and think it was a cry for help from inside the library. i managed to delete the title and this morning the computer died, there you have it.

So, yesterday after a play, Rosencrantz and Guilderstern are Dead, by Tom Stoppard and a wander around the Royal Museum I was a bit lost for what to do next, and when I spotted the National Library across the street I went right over. They advertised an exhibit of Audubon’s paintings from a time when he lived in Edinburgh which sounded wonderful. The sign said it was open til 8pm, M-F, and having lost track of the days (it was Saturday, not Friday as I thought) I walked in about 5:10. A guard was at the door holding it open talking with someone who was leaving so there I was. The reading room was closed and there was no one about but I thought that was just my luck, to have the exhibit to myself.

I looked at all the paintings, read the stories, rested in a comfy chair, used some colored pencils to color a page of his illustrations and then finally went on my way. I still had not seen another person but didn’t really think much about it. When I got to the main door and pushed to open it, it was locked. Shit. It had three sliding bolts that I could undo, but two keyed bolts and no key. Hmm, the plot thickens. There was a main information desk so I went over to it and started dialing the numbers of the people who work there hoping someone had stayed late. No luck.

Mark always teases me about calling 911 so often at home that the folks all think, oh its Ellie, what does she want now? Well in Scotland it’s 999 and I had my phone with me for once, charged, with service in certain places in the building. So I walked around till I had service and then dialed 999. Police, fire or ambulance? was the question. I don’t know, I’m locked in the National Library, I replied. Police, fire or ambulance? Well, police I suppose. I reported my situation to the police and in a minute someone called me back. A nice woman suggested I just relax with a book while they sort out the situation. I was a bit too nervous to read the book I had with me, so I went to the door again. This time I found a key hanging on a nail in the corner and sure enough it opened both bolts. Now I had the door open, but I couldn’t just walk away from a library with the door unlocked, now could I?

My phone rang again, the rock n roll ring LiAnna set up for me. The nice police dispatch woman wanted to find out how I was getting on. I told her the door was unlocked but I wouldn’t leave until someone arrived to lock it again. Well that’s good she said, when I heard footsteps behind me and a very angry guard appeared asking what the hell I was doing in the library. I explained the situation and given my honest face and innocent explanation and the fact that I didn’t have an arm full of Audubon paintings, and I’d called the police already, he let me go. I was a bit giddy by then and weak in the knees so made for a coffee shop to recover.

Today, Sunday, I’m taking it easy as I have a play at 6pm and music at 9pm. Hoping for just a boring day. My first night at the hostel was not the best night’s sleep, but I’m in a room with 3 other women, 2 my age so I feel secure at least. Blokes were drunk on the steet yelling/singing til 5:30 this morning but I slept through most of it. Hopefully they have to go to work tomorrow and will go home early tonight. I stood in line at the castle this morning but there were at least 100 people ahead of me in the queue plus several tour buses arrived so I dropped out and will get there earlier tomorrow, my last day in Edinburgh. I;m a bit weary and ready to come home. There’s plenty more I could see and if one of you had just arrived with a lot of enthusiasm I’d be off, but I’ve had enough. I think I’ll just watch some street performers, take the last 10 photos on my camera card and maybe do a sketch.

This will probably be my last blog of the trip so thanks for all the support and encouragement and comments. Love, your bonny lass, Ellie

Devil’s Advocate

This no holes barred play, written by Joanie’s friend Donald Freed, had me on the edge of my chair, in the front row, close enough to the two amazing actors to be spit upon, but luckily they faced each other most of the time. Ignatius Anthony played the part of General Noriega, formally of the CIA, Panama and now I believe in a federal prison in Florida. (Someone tell us if that’s not the case.) It’s Christmas Eve, 1989?,  in Panama City and the US has just bombed the shit out of a lot of innocent people trying to kill Noriega, as he has stepped away from his role as US lackey and ventured out on his own to capitalize on the cocaine route to the north and the money laundering possible outside conventional banking. After taking cover in the swamps for three days he seeks asylum with an old friend, Archbishop Jose Laboa, played by Peter Dineen.

Laboa is trying to get Noriega to turn himself in while Noriega tries to get Laboa to arrange sanctuary in Spain. Meanwhile the Americans are trying to force him out of the church by blasting rock and roll through the walls. Hendrix starts it out with the opening guitar on Star Spangled Banner just to give you an idea. Donald has managed to write an inditement of US blunders, indiscretions, double-dealings, murders and torture into an hours worth of conversation between the two men. I might have been the only American in the audience but was certainly the most informed on the background and situation with Reagan, Bush I, the Iran-Contra debacle etc. They even mentioned Vietnam drug trafficing and Air America, Evergreen’s claim to fame! Despite the seriousness of everything being said there was a whole lot of irony and one liners that were hysterical given the context of the situation. Really, I was the only person laughing and had to put my hand over my mouth once to not lose control as they moved on. Well, you can tell I’ve been impressed by my first Fringe theatre. Donald and Patty have invited me to join them after lunch tomorrow when I finish a book talk and they bid goodbye to Edinburgh. I haven’t met them yet so it will be quite exciting.

When I left the theatre i was stunned by what I’d just seen and it took me awhile to feel back to myself and remember I AM IN SCOTLAND! So I walked towards the Book Fest for my next event and stopped on the way at small Mexican Rest. with tables outdoors and had a margarita, tomato soup and a veggie enchilada. Don’t even think El Primo! It was in a class way beyond that and I even took a photo of my lunch to remember it and the street scene on Rose Lane today.

The Book Fest. was 2 authors reading from their first novels, both about Ireland. One of the book’s main character was Professor Stephen Wolfe, the same name as our friend from Linfield, and I can’t help but wonder if the author knows him or knows of him. She’s a professor herself and although I wanted to ask her, the queue was just too long to wait. It was very inspiring to hear them talk about how they went from an idea to a published book in their hands. Maybe that will be me some day, aye? Well, I’m home at the B&B, going to get some extra sleep tonight to get ready for another fantastic day in Edinburgh. Did I mention there’s statutues, art museums, cafes, bookstores, domes, castles, monuments and people everywhere?      Love, Ellie 

The Book Festival

I spent the whole day at the festival which was contained within a whole city block park with a statue of Prince Albert, of the Victoria era, on horseback with a pigeon perched on his head most of the time. There were probably hundreds of people which seemed a bit more managable than the thousands I was expecting. Tickets were needed for every event and very fancy tents and comfy chairs were set up for everyone. First I went to hear Michael Gove and Phillip Cole, both authors of recent books about the Bush Admin/Iraq War. Cole focused on the idea of evil figures in literature that then embody a person’s idea of what to fear, like Frankenstein, or Mr. Hyde. So the question is what figure has George W. decided on. It’s clear to everyone that the man doesn’t read, so that leaves comic books. Well, nothing much was funny about any of the talk, since its really war we’re discussing, but they each presented an analysis of the conditions leading to the current crisis from the perspective of Islam. One thing that particulary interested me is some interviews with British born would be suicide bombers. They all felt themselves to be Muslims first, then British citizens. So I wonder if the folks who voted for Bush consider themselves Christian first, American second. Maybe I’ll do a survey when I get home. If I can find anyone who would admit it.

My second event was the Amnesty International sponsored readings of blogs from Iran. They were read by 4 authors who are members of AI and doing something else at the festival. The blogs were all reporting a crack down by the Iranian govenment on internal freedom, esp. internet, in the last few months, including some arrests and torture of bloggers. The bloggers blame Bush, is this a familiar theme?, as his posturing is creating a backlash for anything seen as western or modern in Iran. A blogger from China is in prison now for publishing on his Yahoo blog a directive from the Chinese govt. not to mention anything about Tianaman Square as the anniversary is coming up. So he published their order, they found out, contacted Yahoo to find out who the blogger was and Yahoo told them. I have some flyers asking for his release that I will bring home for us to join the campaign. Makes me glad I use gmail and wordpress but I don’t know what they would do. Maybe its time to ask such questions and get the companies to have a policy for human rights.

One of the readers is a very popular Scottish science fiction author, Iain Banks. It so happened that I bought a book of his short stories for a certain someone and asked Iain to autograph it after the reading. The woman who wrote Bookseller of Kabul was there at a later panel and so now I have her book too. That’s about it for bringing things home as my pack is approaching too heavy again.

The last panel was the above woman journalist and an American George Packer who just published the Assasins Gate. Sorry about the spelling. There was a long conversation about the war in Iraq and George has been there most of the time. There was nothing hopeful to report, I asked about American troop withdrawal, he said yes of course, it had to happen but now the Iraqi’s can’t trust anyone in an Iraqi police uniform because most of them are stolen, so they’ve been ordered not to open their door unless coaltion forces accompany the Iraqi police. The Americans are keeping a lid on outright chaos. He said its been a civil war for quite a while and hundreds of thousands of people are leaving their homes to go to the side of the Tigris where their sect has the majority so eventually it will be Sunnies on the west side and Shi’a on the east. Also the middle class is being targeted for specific killings to interrup supplies, merchants and medical care. A disaster of the first water. Mark says that a lot and I don’t quite know what it means but seems to fit here.

Well it was a serious day at the Book Fest., but I also met several women who chatted me up and one who wants to meet me again on Friday to gossip about the royalty, ie the Brits and Jackie Kennedy, the closest Americans ever got. With that to contemplate I’ll leave my blog for now before the authorities get after me. Love, Ellie

Coaches Rule

I’m way behind on all that has happened as there was no internet I could use for very long at the last few towns. So I am now back in Edinburgh at a lovely B&B, a bit away from the Festival action but an easy walk to throngs of people when I’m ready.

I’ve been either taking coaches or waiting for them but there are a couple of things that are different than the buses at home. These citylink coaches go everywhere! Comparing them to Yamhill County, you could hop on a coach at 3rd and Davis and it would go out Baker Creek Road to drop off Lynn and then up Orchard View to pick up Emma. That would just be the route and it would go by every hour, or two at the latest. Of course you know sometimes they are late from my last blog and I have another peeve to report. I went to Dingwall to try to find my grandma’s parents graves (couldn’t) but as I was waiting for the coach back, in a queue with a bunch of other people, the coach pulled behind one already parked and people started to get off so we moved over to give them space. I stepped in the wrong direction and didn’t realize until the coach started to move up the block that I was in its way. No warning beep or gradually move, just pulled up almost knocking me off my feet. The people I’d been chatting with grabbed me and I let out a wee scream and everyone was a bit shaken, esp. me, but not the coach driver. After that I was a bit pissed at him but when I got on he acted like its all in the line of work. Maybe he didn’t see me but its all windows in front so I doubt he missed it.

In contrast two days later I took a mini-coach up to Glen Affric,  one of the most beautiful hill and loch areas in the area. Loch Ness is just south 15 miles but is so big and busy and I’d seen it before, that I wanted to hike about in a more remote place. The coach driver, John Reilley has my blog address and I hope he reads this because he went out of his way to help me and would never bump someone with his coach! I was the only passenger most of the way to the loch so we chatted about all sorts of things and John assured me he’d look for me on his next two trips to the loch so I’d get a ride back. On the way back he pulled over at a beautiful waterfall and we walked down the path so I could see over the side. It reminded me of the wild Rogue River up by Crater Lake where it goes through a narrow gorge creating terrific whitewater. So thanks for your Scottish hospitality John!

BELLADRUM

I mentioned the music festival in my last email, I thought Belladrum was the name of the fest, good drumming, aye? But its the name of the 1,100 acre estate that the Tartan Heart Festival was held on. Nothing but fun and music. And craft booths, food booths, dancing and activities for kids. I read in the paper the next day that 10,000 people attended, including 2,000 children under 12. I went early on Friday, before it opened as I got a lift from 2 young women who were at the B&B. I heard some good music and talked to several women at craft booths and danced to reggae, rock n’ roll, and fiddle music. I went back Saturday afternoon after my hike at Glen Affric, and got a schedule in time to see that Arlo Guthrie was playing at the Garden Stage at 3:20. So I hustled down to the Garden Stage where hundreds of teenagers were dancing to a group called the Vaterbay Boys. Not being shy I danced my way up to the front and when the Boys finished I was at the very front row. Some kids were still hanging around to see who was next, I really wanted the spot they were in, so when the were looking for a program I volunteered that the next act was an old American folk singer. That sent them off for pizza and gave me a place right in front of the stage, center front. IT WAS SO EXCITING! The woman next to me brought an Arlo album from 1972, hoping to get his autograph, so she took it out and showed it around. Of course, like the rest of us he looks quite a bit different 34 years later, but we knew him right away by his wild, mostly white, hair. He pulled up a chair as we all screamed “we love you Arlo!”, goodness, it was fun. He played some of his old songs and then Mr. Tamborine Man, after telling about Dylan knocking on his door looking for his Dad all that time ago. He sang a new song, Shadow on the Land?, which made me cry, as well as Hillary next to me. Then he said, we only have time for one more song, so I yelled, can you guess? Alice’s Restaurant! He heard me and laughed saying that’s a song for another day.

Well, I could have left then, I felt so satisfied, but I stuck around looking for Irene again, she was looking for me, but we never found each other. I left the mobile phone at the B&B not thinking she could call me there. So as I was leaving I heard fiddle music and went into a big tent for one more round. There was a fantastic band playing and lots of people were jumping up and down so what the heck. I gradually got to the front and jumped up and down with the 17 year olds. They accept me quite easily and probably feel as I feel, the more people dancing, the more energy and fun. The band was really warmed up by now and the 4 fiddlers stood up, the drums were taking it all to a faster pitch and the guitar player was tremendous, as well as the leader, on keyboards. They were so good we were all screaming and they did an encore that was a bit calmer or we’d have never left. I bought their CD on the way out, Session A9, named after a road trip north on the A9 which is where I have been traveling most of the time.

RANDOM KINDNESS

I’ve been doing wee nice deeds for others and they have for me, although as it goes, not back and forth but spread out across the whole trip. I went to a big sale of clothes made by people in Nepal and Tibet that a Scottish woman buys from villages at a fair price and then sells around the UK. The sale was in a meeting hall at the Findhorn Village where the public toilets were, which I used on several occasions. The last time I went in I bought something from the sale and talked with the woman’s Mum who was helping her out. She said the only problem is there is no toilet paper and I can’t find any one to call, nor can I leave. So I went to the store a few blocks away and bought 2 rolls of TP and gave them to her, a wee gift, I said. Now have you ever seen anyone thrilled to receive 2 rolls of toilet paper? She thougt I was surely the kindest person on earth at that moment yet it was such a simple thing for me to do.

In return today the sweetest 3 year old waiting with her folks at the train station tried to speak to me in English, German being her first language. She said “how do you do” and we proceeded from there. She gave me a tiny pebble that she found on the beach and we shook hands goodbye when their train arrived. Although these things can happen anywhere I think having the time to just sit on a bench, or visit a place over and over is part of the magic I’ve been feeling.

THE FRINGE

I have tickets for about 8 events over the next 5 days, from a writers retreat to a Tom Stoppard play to a performance by the group Blazing Fiddles, and ending with a tribute to Eva Cassidy called Songbird. I’ve written out my schedule and the directions to each venue, all walking distance from the Royal Mile, Castle, etc. I’ll have time to write a bit more in between the excitement and a handy computer so you’ll hear from me again soon. Love, Ellie

Under the weather

Brett asked about the weather, its cold! Today I have two layers, boots and a raincoat to walk across the street to the library. Generally its been cloudy for the past 2 weeks with sprinkles and sun breaks but I haven’t been caught in a deluge yet. On Sunday at Findhorn there was a cold breeze from the sea that I couldn’t escape, and there was incense burning at the vigil and back at the B&B so by the end of the day I had a sore throat. Last night I coughed until 3am when I finally went to sleep. 

I was feeling a bit envious of the families at Findhorn with the wee children and all the company they provide. When I got to Beauly (about 2 hours travel west) I walked up and down the main street, well the only street, and all the single rooms were taken, even in the huge and formal Lovat Arms Hotel. It was starting to rain so I went back to the first spot and got a double room as I was about done in. After a nap I went to the lounge to make tea and while I was relaxing on the comfy couch a young girl came in and shyly said hello. We chatted for a bit and she had been walking up and down just after me, having gotten off the bus from Edinburgh by herself, with no place to stay. So we decided to explore Beauly together and I found out she is 15 years old, her parents think she is spending a few days with a friend near home, but she has come to see her ex-boyfriend so they can sort things out. She’s become quite fond of me, and vice versa, and so we spent the evening together too as he had to work. The hostel owner and I have been discussing her situation, she’s not exactly a runaway since she’s going home tomorrow, on the other hand, she’s only 15 and a long way from home staying with people she’s just met. We two mothering types are feeling responsible for her already and have had a few “chats” with her about deceiving her parents. The girl has spunk that’s for sure, and hopefully we’ll all live happily ever after.

That leads right into Brett’s other question about Global Warming. Yes, everyone here is very concerned about climate change as the hot weather in the US has been in England and southern Scotland and a lot of people are suffering. They are more energy conscious as a whole, petrol being over £4 a gallon, all the cars are small and the buses are well used. The water heaters for showers have a off/on switch which I had forgotten, and towels in b&b’s are changed only on request. Still, they all are more accepting of the facts of life and want something done than the sort of Americans who think climate change is a left-wing ploy. I think they also feel powerless to change things as we do when people like bush are in such positions of control.

I’m just staying put here in Beauly (beautiful river) until I return to Edinburgh on the 15th (a day earlier than planned). There’s the huge music fest on Friday and Saturday that costs £60 so I am going to have to really want to go to spend the money. It’s outdoors, camping included which I won’t do, 9 stages, all sorts of music so it sounds like a lot of fun if I’;m feeling better. Tomorrow I’ll go to the wee town nearby where my dad’s mum was born and see if I can find a long-lost 3rd cousin.

A PS for fans of the book Outlander. I haven’t seen anyone who remotely looks as I imagine Jamie Fraser to be. This is Fraser country though and Beauford, his manor, is just up the road. It’s been bought out of the Fraser family although the present clan chief is trying to get it back. Most of the scenes from the book take place along the river just north of Inverness so as soon as I feel a bit better I’ll go exploring.

Much love to you all. Ellie

24Bagpipes

I’ve ;just posted Yin and Yang but have a few minutes snuck in at the lab so will try to catch up with things i’ve been wanting to write about. So skroll down when you finish this to yin and y;ang.

I have acouple ofminutes at the nasty; computer so this will be a bit ;rough. I’m going back a bit to July 29th and the Halkirk Highland Games. I’d gone back to Helmsdale to the hostel while the Clan Gunn had their dinner dance (formal, £40, need I saY more?). So I hopped on the train,rode through the Kildonan Valley and then ;got off at Georgemas, about 3 miles from the games, but the nearest station, if you want to call it that. As I got off, a chap was just ahead of me and someone had come to pick him up so I asked the way to Halkirk, he said, oh do you w;ant a lift? yes indeed. So his Dad, must have been in his 80’s drove me right to the town. I found the Clan Gunn folks just leaving a meeting that I didn’t mind missing. While we were stadning about the Thurso pipe and drum band began playing and marching up and down the closed off street. There were 24 bagpipes, played by people of all ages in kilts or skirts, and 10 drummers. Everyone was getting quite excited, well I was anyway, then Ian Gunn, The Commander, unfurled the Clan Gunn flag and we all moved into the street behind the flag. Being a bit of a motely crew everyone was jammed together but then we had our orders to muster, which means line up 4 in a row. That took some doing as some family groups were larger but I went with my favorite people, Barbara and Ian Gunn from Australia. The ;band began again and we marched down the street in a parade with people waving from the sidelines. I was feeling the ;most affection for the other clan members at that point and it was a great ending to the week.

BLUE NILE EAGLE

While at Dunrobin Castle I managed to catch the falconry show in the gardens and the same man was having several birds of prey do tricks for us. LiAnna and I saw the same man, different birds in 03 during our speed tour of Scotland. I was quite impressed with him and LiAnna teased me endlessly about my crush on the falconer. This year he had a new bird that hand managed to fly to Scotland with a broken wing. He receives injured birds of prey from all over the UK, so this one, Fig, came to him. Fig has regrown his wing feather and learned to fly well again but doesn’t have plans to roam. Why would he when his caretaker feeds him chicken mcnuggets daily? The eagle is quite large but what is ;most impressive is the color of his feathers. The bird is native to Egypt, is rare these days, and is a beautiful shade of slate/sea blue. I took some close up photos and only hope they turn out. The falconer was sitting with Fig just a few feet away from those of us who stayed past the end and Fig was close enough to touch. I kept ;my hands to myself.

A WEE VERSE FOR IRENE AFTER THE MIDGES

River gurgles to the sea

Midges take a bite of me.

Hills beyond hold history

Clan Gunn’s land, three centuries.

The Clay’s here now

Their house so grand.

Full time gardener on the land

Still the rivers to the sea.

Some things change and some things not

The clans are gone but sheep run free.

The hills stretch on for miles and miles

While people return each other’s smiles.

SNORING IN ITALIAN

My last night at the hostel had four beds occupied in the women’s side. A young Swiss woman, me and a mother and daughter from Italy. I’ve been trying not to snore, no one has mentioned being kept awake, but that night, I SWEAR, the woman next to me snored in a melody the same way she speaks. It was interesting and somewhat astouding and I was a bit tempted to wake up Irene so she could listen but instead I finally dripted off and snored in American.

The yin and yang of Findhorn

Last night at 7 I walked 10 minute from my B&B to the Shambala Retreat Center for the peace in the mideast vigil. It wasn’t like our vigils in mcminnville where we stand on a corner and hold banners and signs and take abuse from the public. This place is a country home from the 1800’s now owned by the retreat center/findhorn foundation. It’s a restaurant, B&B, commuity meeting place and Buddist center. About 50 people attended from around the world, I sat next to two women from Israel and a woman from France on the other side. They had cushions and chairs in a circle and a wee candle for each person. The walls were hung with tapestires and the alters had photos of the Dali Lama and a favorite guru of the place. People took turns reading passages about peace from many different perspectives and we sang some songs, and omm’ed for a bit. I had stopped at a church at Inverness on Friday as they had a peace prayer note on the door for just the time I was walking by. That was in a Church with an Episopal minister reading passages. It was only 10 minutes long but I began crying the moment I set my back down and cried through the whole service. They set me in the front row with my pack so there was no way to be inconspicous. mark alwasy accuses me of wanting atttention, but this time I would have crawled under the pew if that would have helped. I think I had stored up all my grief about the bombing of Lebanon and Israel as the highlands are so removed from the rest of the world.

So I had my hanky at the ready in the Shambala center but it was more of a joyful ceremony  even though it had the same purpose. Afterwards i started walking up the driveway towards the party I’d seen a poster for and a woman was just ahead of me so I caught up wth her and we chatted while she showed me the shortcut to the dance. It was a celebration for a couple in their 50’s from the commuity who had gotten married a few weeks before. They had consumed all the alcohol when I got there, probably a good thing, so I watched the first round dance and the spoke to a woman standing around also who said she would dance but didn’t have a partner. I offered to be her partner so we joined a line dance with a lot of enthusiastic swinging about to a tune from a guitar and Irish pipes (played by my tour guide, Rory, from the day before). He remembered me and so I have had my first experience of sort of knowing someone.

This morning I walked back over to the community wth my camera this time to take a few photos, hang out, get a coffee and maybe do some knitting. I was sitting outside the cafe talking to a woman from Scotland on holiday with her family. Her three young children were playing in the grass nearby jumping over rocks and laughing at their own games. One of the girls turned 6 yesterday, LiAnnas birthday, so we were chatting about what a peaceful scene when a huge bomber from the Royal Air Force just next door flew over very low, made such a loud noise we had to stop talking and then it circled out over the bay. A new one took off every ten minutes for the next hour so while i walked around the famous Findhorn gardens, jets screamed overhead. I haven’t asked anyone how they feel about that, living here, or if they ever have protests, but I suspect they just do the best they can to ignore the sound and send a blessing to whomever may be hurt by the mission. Well, maybe they are going to rescue people but I doubt it.

Back at the B&B I had a two hour massage from Marlene on Sunday. She does traditional Hawaiian massage which is quite a bit different than mine so it was both healing, interesting and completly relaxing. She has made me feel quite welcome and I come and go at her home with a key to the back door in case she is working in front. She fixed me lunch yesterdy and I washed the dishes. She’s from New Zealand but came to Scotland some years ago to be part of Findhorn. A common story as people arrived, take the classes, join the community and then find their own way to make money, live, travel, etc. She’s considering going Home though and will visit in November to help her decide.

I’ll leave tomorrow morning, back to Inverness to stay a night or just change coaches and head to Beauly, Dingwall or perhaps the castle hostel. This will be the first time when I leave somewhere not knowing where I am going but I don’t mind and am looking foward to some freedom of choice. Thanks for the comments, scrowl down a bit to make one, and emails, which if I have time at a computer will try to answer. Sent yet another box home today as I keep eliminating anything I don’t absolutely need. Still have my coloring book and pencils:), one ball of yarn and my three journals. Oh clothes, yeah, 2 longsleeves, 3 shortsleeves, 2 trousers, a jacket and my raincoat, and a party dress that I wore on my birthday ad will save for the next day i don’t need my raincoat. For those of you waiting for my Scottish brogue, I’ll do my best!! Love always, Ellie

A Findhorn Birthday

Thanks to all of you who sent me such sweet cards and email messages. I arrived at the B&B and found my home box waiting that I sent to myself and a muckle (large) stack of cards from home. I would have to say I felt homesick for the first time hearing from you. But that’s probably a good thing as last week I was wondering how I could ever leave Scotland.

So after the best nights sleep in quite awhile I took a 10 minute walk along the bay to the Findhorn Community where I had signed up as a visitor in exchange for 3 hours of kitchen duty. The community was begun in the early 60’s I believe and gained noteriety for the huge veggies they grew in sand. The original gardeners, Peter and Eileen Caddy attributed their success to divine guidance (they used a hell of alot of compost also). A side note here,the computer I am useing is in terrible condition, like someone has spilled coffee down the keyboard so the keys all stick and have to be pounded like a manual typewriter. So I am going to stop fixing typos.I guess I just insultedthe computer faires because now the return key won’t work.

80 people were expected for lucnh and so our crew of 5 from Italy, Germany, England, Belguim and me, chopped and washed veggies and pots for three hours. We listened to American music, quite loud, and various people came in; to hug the woman in charge, Roseann, who is Italian but clearly has been here for awhile. She hugged me once so I gota hug on my birthday. Lunch was quite fantastic and just what I needed. Carrot/ginger soup, huge salad, roastedveggies, rice, bread, peas, corn. Yumm.

At 2 I paid £2 for a tour of the grounds, which was led by an American hippie who showed up in the late 70’s and stayed. 120 people are part of the offical community, who live here and either work in the garden, kitchen, housekeeping, finances or education/marketing. Probably another 200 are indpendent but live on the land here intheir own home and make a conrtriution in some way, have a pottery studio, provide heath care, run the cafe, etc. There are workshops, music and events ;happeing all the timeand anyone,me, is welcome to attend. Tomorow their is a ceildh (traditional Scottish party) and at the same time across the road a song/meditation,chant for peace int the mideast. I think i;’ll go to the chant and then theparty!

Speaking of chants our tour today ended in the sancutary, a round building in the woods, with the 20 or so of us sitting in a circle. OUr guide said in clsing that people gather here to chant at 8 every morning. He asked if there were any questions so I said “Shall I lead a short chant now since we are gathered here?” He said yes; please and; ;other people nodded so I sang one round of The earth, the air, the fire the water, and everyone joined right in. It was my happy birthday song.

Findhorn reminds me a lot of Breitenbush Community, both in the setting, relationships, living options and natural setting. Findhorn is on the bay created by the Findhorn River and is just off the North Sea, about 30 miles east of Inverness, near Forres, for those of you with maps. There are alot of amazingly artistic structures and rock work here that I will come back to take photos and sketch. We were all sitting in a grassy area on flat rock ledges during the tour when I noticed some nasturiums right behind me so I picked one to eat. There was a huge bumbee inside one of the; blossoms so I put my hand where it wouuld back out and so  it crawled on myt hand and sat in my palm cleaning its legs and walking around. The kids on the tour were amazed, as I was too. When we left I had to coax it onto a leaf to leave my hand. The magic of Findhorn.

The perons at the B&B, Marlene, is a msassge therapist, and has aroom in her house for massage. It’s painted the smae color as mine and some of the books on her shelves are the same as ;mine too. She is very sweet and had a birthday card for me herself. I got more mail than she did the past week! So tomorrow I have a massage fromher, just across the hall, and she has a bathtub, my own bathroom, well, its quite perfect.

Tonight is when LiAnna is supposed to call me at 10pm from Australia ;where it will be her birtdhay. There isn’t enought signal int he house so I will go out to the bay and watch the sunset and the kids throwing rocks and sailboats blowing by and wait for my girl to call me. I know she is a woman, but she’ll always be my girl. OK will now I am feeling so sentimental that I am crying so will change the subject.

I met some yuoung people for a change here today, a couple from Canada and a young man from England stayed in the sanctuary for awhile as I did so we chatted about life, their future, and Scotland. They are wwoofing this summer. That is, willing workers on organic farms, who spend a week to a mointh living on a farm and weeding, hoeing harvesting and learning from the farmers. They were all enthusiatic about their experiences and after Findhorn were heading to another place. Another young woman is from NY, on a holiday by herself for the first time. We chatted about what thats like and what she is hoping for in life, to be part of acommunity and play music. But she needs her own privacy too so was asking alot of questions of oiur guide about how people get along, or get a dwelling, or find work.

I’ll be heading back to the B&B in a few minutes and then back here again tomorrow and maybe I’ll explore the town nearby on Monday. I don’t have an exact plan after that, just places I ;want to still go so need to figure out the hows and whens. Irene and her friend Sheena are going to a music festival in Beauly, just north of Inverness next weekend so I hope to meet them there. I’ve hardly heard any music but will get a lot when I am back in Edinburra near the end of my trip. Love from a Findhorn fairy, Ellie

Smoke but no fire

I’ve been wanting to just jot down a few things about my everyday life instead of just one thrilling adventure after the other! So today I decided to take a rest day and hang out at the hostel by myself. Last night Irene and I were having dinner when two man/woman couples arrived and then two men about 30 minutes apart. Most of them had been cycling south and were drenched and chilled as a big storm came in yesterday.They got settled and we chatted a bit and I’ve finally had to share my dorm with other women, which was fine. One of the single men is from France and had been fishing so proceeded to clean his trout on the table and then left them on a plate in the fridge overnight. We all assumed he was having them for dinner, but oh well, I didn’t want to smell fish just then anyway. I went to bed about 10 but he stayed up til almost midnight talking quite loudly to one of the other men, who is from Belgium I think. Finally Irene got up and told them to quiet down and then I went to sleept until 6am when I was awakened by a loud alarm. I jumped out of bed and started walking toward the door to the common area still half asleep thinking maybe it was someone’s clock going off. But no, the French man was cooking his trout and had burned the butter which set off the smoke alarm! By this time the whole place was in an uproar, Irene came from the other direction to take charge and I stumbled back to bed, telling the other women who were in various states of undress that all was well. I finally got up after every one else left and then Irene and I laughed all morning about the expression on “your wee face, Ellie”. I wasn’t thinking any evil thoughts but really, I could hardly believe this guy was standing at the stove cooking fish at 6am completly oblivious to the alarm going off.

The rest of the day was calmer, the only problem being I went to the post office to mail yet another package home of things I don’t want to carry anymore (even 5 colored pencils I haven’t used) and found out the post office closes at 1pm, 1300, on Wednesdays. So back up the hill I went and will try again tomorrow.

I thought I would do a few categories of things to report about.

Blunders: The worst so far which everyone enjoyed was when several of Irene’s friends arrived last weekend. They cooked an amazing meal and we were drinking wine and in between I got out my colored pencils and did a wee mandala for Irene that represented the colors of clothes the six of has on that night. It was a six sided mandala, very simple, from my book and so at the center was the color of each person’s hair, all shades of brown, and me with grey. Then each person’s shirt, all olive green or blue, then trousers, khaki, black or blue jeans. One woman, Marie was sitting at the table and I couldn’t really see her pants so I said “What color are your pants Marie?” Now no one really knew what I was up to as they were all doing something too, and trousers is really the word for outside leg coverings while pants refers to underwear. Shall I just leave it at that? Luckily they all have a great sense of humor and there’s nothing more fun than laughing at Americans anyway so we all laughed most of the evening and what color are your pants is now a private joke than I’m sure they will ask each other for quite awhile.

Writing: Besides the blog, my two journals and scenes from my book I’m writing some other fiction and a bit of verse. If I ever have nothing else to do and free internet I’ll post the tale of a Viking crone and her ceremony at the Ring of Brodgar. It may have to wait til I get home.

Pack: My backpack and add on day pack and my shoulder strap purse are all working very well. If I’m walking more than a block I put it all on my back and I can go for a couple of miles. If I’m just hopping on and off the coach I tuck in all the straps of my big pack and it turns into a duffle which I haul on and then usually just put on the seat next to me as there is plenty of room. For longer trips, the coach stops and the driver puts the pack underneath the bus with other luggage and packages. I’ve sent so much stuff home or used it up in the time I’;ve been here that I think I will be fine heading back to the city in 2 weeks.

Lodging: I’m heading south in another day and after Findhorn and going back north a bit to the town my grandmother was from, Dingwall. From there its just half an hour to a castle that is now a hostel and the accomadations are supposed to be the best. So I hope to have time to do that. Speaking of time, Lorna’s closing her shop and my time is up for today. Thanks for the emails and comments. Love from the Highlands, Ellie