As much fun as I had running around with Em again in Edinburgh, I really, really wanted to see the Scottish Highlands. I tried to join a tour bus that left from Edinburgh Castle, but due to the fact that it was November, there was no tour bus that day. Or that week, either. So instead, I bought a Highland Rover pass and started hopping trains for the next three days. I had absolutely no clue what I was doing or where I was going.
My first day was spent on the train, chugging through the highlands, over mountains and along lochs, and it was absolutely gorgeous. I ended up in the town of Oban, which is a tiny little fishing village on the west coast. I got there around 4:05, five minutes late to catch the last train, the last bus, and the last ferry to someplace a little bit...bigger. Oh yeah, and all the shops were closed by six. So I spent the night in the Oban Youth Hostel (which looked right out on the sea) with another American studying abroad at Birmingham named...Devon I think. He looked like an exact cross between Whitney and Greg, which was a bit disturbing in itself. Wish I had a picture. Anyway, after Devon and I and yet another American named John who was wandering Europe for a few months after college searched for hours for a deck of cards, but no dice. So we sat in the kitchen watching the proper versions of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire and The Weakest Link while I poured all over Devon's maps trying to figure out where I was headed. I wonder whatever happened to those boys. |
