Interlude - Scotland

is booking a bus tour with a company called Haggis just asking for trouble?

Getting along with the scotch...

To set the scene, I had been planning to study at the castle for years. My trip around Europe came about because I had a friend who was going to Germany in August, but wanted to travel a bit, as did I. She, however, couldn't fly over until the end of June, while my term at the castle ended in mid-June. The clever among you will have figured out that this left me with approximately two weeks to fill. There were two places I wanted to go: Latvija (which I will get to at some point) and Scotland. I didn't want to wander around Scotland on my own, but another friend had been unable to find me a local guide, (I'll bet she didn't even try... :) so I signed up for a bus tour. 

As we were on the way to the first stop of the tour, the guide told us we had three goals for the week: 1. Eat Haggis. 2. Drink Scotch Whisky. 3. Make a Wee Scotish Friend. I thought I'd be 0 for 3, but I'm actually 2 for 3. To keep from making a long story very, very long, though, I'll stick to the one responsible for the rumours.

On day 4 of the tour, we stayed in Carbisdale Castle. It's the fanciest youth hostel you're likely to ever see, but it's kinda out in the middle of nowhere. Then again, so is most of Scotland... The point is that there weren't any grocery-type stores or restaurants in the area, so the decision was made to have a communal dinner. Money was contributed, food was bought, and the story about how it was decided who would cook and who would clean will have to wait 'til another time.

Now, as it happens, there was enough money for a bottle of whisky. Nothing fancy, and just enough for everyone to have a taste. So after dinner each person got a cup, and following a traditional toast, we drank.

At first, I just sipped. One of the guys suggested that we might want to toss it back. So we did. The two women sitting next to me immediately reached for water or juice to get rid of the taste. Whereas I... didn't hate it. I'm not sure that I liked it, either, but I didn't gag and I didn't feel the need to rinse out my mouth. That's saying a lot, coming from someone who is essentially a non-drinker. But that's as far as it went.

So how did the rumours start? I made the mistake of e-mailing my brother. All I said was that I had tried whisky, and that I might possibly like it. He, of course, felt the need to pass it along to... I don't even know who all he told. Naturally, the tale was altered in the retelling, and soon people were under the impression that I had become a whisky drinker. BUT I HAD ONLY TRIED IT ONCE! I have since opened the bottle of Chivas Regal that my godmother gave me for graduation, but I haven't had very much of it. I didn't even bring in to Fred'icton with me last fall. I should have this fall because now that the house is going to be sold, my scotch is probably going to disappear somewhere, never to be seen again. And that just wouldn't be nice.

All clear now? I hope so. Stay tuned for more stories...