July 1st – July 28th, 2017
With Scotland!!
And I want to have its puppies. Don’t tell Jo…she’ll be jealous. Then she’ll tell me, “I can be more Scottish if that’s what you want.” Things will get weird. We’ll break up. She’ll demand alimony. We’ll have a custody battle, and I’ll only get to see my toys and rawhide bones on the weekends. Hell. On. Earth. Don’t tell Jo.
Soooo…upon arrival to the Highlands, exiting the train was the equivalent to entering a meat locker…in a good way. The cold air tugged at my whiskers and gave me a slap right on my ass. It pinched Jo’s cheeks, turning them a dog’s favorite color: Fire Hydrant Red. And her eyes widened with delight as she looked at me and inhaled the crispness.
“We’re here! We made it, Penny!”
I wagged my tail and hurriedly walked ahead of her, happy to no longer be traveling. She was still excitedly yapping behind me, regaling me with all sorts of potential Scottish adventures. For once, I didn’t tune her out.
Yup, we had made it!
We were in Elgin, Scotland…a city in Moray (whisky country, folks!) which is near Inverness, Aberdeen, and Cairngorms National Park. This will probably mean nothing to anyone who hasn’t been here before. We didn’t know much about the area either, except Jo knew it had wide open spaces for me and whisky and castles for her.
Oh, and it just so happens to be right about where King Duncan was killed by Macbeth.
Yes, THAT Macbeth. Although Shakespeare took some artistic license and changed things up a bit in his tale.
As we looked for Oates (crazy German guy we stayed with) at the train station, we were enchanted by signs everywhere that said, “Alight Here” and “Way Out” instead of the boring ol’ EXIT signs we usually see in the U.S. I even peed next to one! After all, my urine does need a “way out.” 😉
Finally, we spotted Oates on the other side of the platform. Jo waved and yelled across that she needed cash, and he waved and yelled back that there was an ATM and supermarket behind me and he would meet us over there. I barked, too, just so no one would forget I was there. Everyone else was yelling, so it seemed appropriate. *sigh* I will never comprehend the many complex rituals of human introduction.
We raced over, got some cash, met and hugged Oates, and we all went to quickly grab some groceries.
While picking out some produce, Jo got busted for bringing me into the store. I guess the squirming, writhing “baby bump” under Jo’s jacket kind of gave it away. Nice try, Jo.
It’s not like I was running loose, juggling the fruit with my paws or Indy 500’ing my ass across the floor. Hell, have you seen some of the humans that shop at Wal-Mart in the U.S.?! I’m more civilized than they are! I get it, I get it. I’m a dog. But humans are so…funny.
Jo explained to security she had just arrived to town and had absolutely no groceries. Thankfully, the security lady was kind enough to watch me, while I intensely watched Jo shop. Oh, how I longed to be close to that food!
Finished, Jo profusely thanked the security lady as we raced back outside. We put everything in Oates’ van, and then he turned and looked at Jo’s shirt.
“Um, that’s a lot of hair,” he opined.
You see, Oates had broken his own rules. He doesn’t usually allow dogs but made an exception for us so we could stay at his marvelous teepee, and it became quickly apparent he was concerned about all of my hair that had shed off onto Jo during 12 hours of travel.
Don’t get us wrong. We were very, very grateful Oates allowed us to stay with him for a month, although I’m not sure if he expected me to be a Telly Savalas breed of dog or what. I do have hair. And I can’t coordinate when and where my hairs will fall. It’s not like they’re all lined up, waiting for me to give the okay to parachute down. “Go, go, GO! You, land on that couch! You, on the carpet! And youuu, infiltrate that guy’s nostril and make…him…sneeeeze.”
I nudged Jo and told her to puke in his van. That would take his mind off the hair real quick! She told me to shut up and stop shedding. Oh, boy…Jo was gonna have her work cut out for her.
* Upon witnessing the beauty that which is Scotland, Percy Faith’s “Theme From A Summer Place” started playing out of nowhere. We bounded into the fields, paw in hand, spinning around with our heads thrown back, laughing. We made grass angels, tickled our noses with flowers, and shook the tiny hands of bees. Life. Was. Good.
* Free at last!
* Our teepee!
* Torsten (aka Oates) created this amazing getaway. You can find the teepee (or tepee…or tipi…however the hell you spell it) on Airbnb and Experience Scotland Differently
* Piece of wood affectionately called “Nessie”
* We picked this lil fella up at the sex museum in Barcelona! So sad was he that he had to spend his days in the darkness of Jo’s luggage. So we whipped him out and now he gets to enjoy our travels too. Adventures with Peeny and Penny! Just look at that smile!
* As amazing as the teepee was, I’m an old dog with very little fur, and if I had any testicles, they would have frozen off. Jo likes to put all the blame on me, but I’m pretty sure she was cold too.
* I’d like to say we toughed it out. But we were wimps. So Oates was kind enough (and tolerant enough) to let us stay inside his home
* Peeny says, “A banana a day will keep your pubes from turning gray.”
Sounds legit to us!
Wild Haggis and Haggis Hurling??
Andrew and his son (two fabulous fellas who stayed with Oates too) were kind enough to cook us all a traditional breakfast, including black pudding (blood sausage) and haggis! Haggis is made of sheep organs mixed with oatmeal, onions, salt and spices, and maybe some other stuff. Who knows? Can’t be any worse than what goes into a hot dog, and Jo and I luuurve hot dogs!
Nevertheless, Jo never thought she would try, let alone enjoy, that demented-sounding Frankenfood conglomeration known as haggis.
But hey, when in Rome Scotland…
And she freakin’ loved the haggis and the black pudding! I wasn’t too sure about it at first, but if Jo crammed it down her gullet and hadn’t keeled over yet, then it must be safe, right? Sure, when haggis is still in the casing, it looks like something straight out of a Ridley Scott sci-fi film…and no, it’s not hot dog at a ball game good, but it turns out this offal isn’t awful at all!
FUN FACTS:
- A poll of a 1000 U.S. visitors to Scotland revealed that 1/3 of them thought haggis was an actual animal, while nearly 1/4 of them came to Scotland thinking they could catch one.
Really?! Pray tell, what exactly were they going to do with a haggis once they caught it? Brush it, put bows in its hair, and prop it up next to their daughter’s My Little Pony collection? Or maybe have it fill in for Dan on poker night?
Stories floated around about wild hairy haggis that lived in the Scottish Highlands, having adapted to the steep inclines by growing longer legs on one side of their bodies and shorter on the other, which enabled them to run around the hills without falling over.
So popular are these tales, you can find all sorts of tourist gag gifts, such as a haggis whistle (reportedly sounds just like the mating call of the haggis), and haggis taxidermy. Oates and Andrew even tried to convince Jo wild haggis was real!
* Wild Haggis – the Fabio hair is a nice touch! (on display at Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum in Glasgow)
2. Traditional haggis has been banned in the U.S. since 1971. The USDA said, “Nope, no sheep lungs for you, America. Ya’ll will get ‘scrapie,’ go mad and do really stupid shit like exercising only to go out for pizza n’ beer afterwards, and then, of course, start a zombie apocalypse.”
* Scrapie is similar to mad cow disease.
3. Famous poet, Robert Burns, wrote an ode to haggis. But I once wrote an ode to turkey, so I totally get it.
4. Edinburgh serves up some delicious haggis burritos that we can’t get enough of! Jo likes to think she’s clever by calling them hagritos, but that sounds vaguely like a crunchy old woman.
5. Haggis Hurling is a bona fide sport, with a proper world championship and everything! Where the hell was this event at the Highland Games we attended?! The goal is to throw a traditionally-prepared haggis as far as you can, usually from atop a whisky barrel. The catch is that the haggis must remain intact/edible after landing. Geez, only humans would throw perfectly good food on the ground.
The story goes that a Scottish lad was out working in the fields/cutting peat, and his devoted wife whipped up some haggis for lunch. Instead of trudging her way over rivers and through bogs, she got close enough to her hubby to chuck the haggis over whatever obstacle was between them, and he then caught it with his kilt.
Brilliant! Jo and I say today’s wives should bring this back in a big way and start throwing meals at their husbands. I told Jo she can throw food at me anytime!
* Oates preparing even more haggis! Usually served with “neeps n’ tatties” (turnips and potatoes), he served his with kale instead of turnips
The Origin of Oates, Burrito Women, and Blowgun Darts
Jo calls Torsten “Oates” because there is a picture in his house, presumably from the 80s, where he looks exactly like John Oates from the great Hall and Oates…porn stache and all. When Jo told Torsten who he looked like, he had no idea what she was talking about. He’s also probably the only German who has no idea who David Hasselhoff is. Blasphemy! It’s the Hoff, man!
* photo of “Hall and Oates” via Variety.com
Oates (Torsten, not John) was a fascinating character…funny, kind, eccentric, and just a wee bit scary intense at times. Simultaneously a laid-back hippie and a rigid, obstinate politician. He was a one-man show! And he and Jo, along with the other house guests, had many eyebrow-raising conversations over a glass of what Oates called “creamy whisky” and “the cheap version of Bailey’s Irish Cream”. Meanwhile, I curled up in Jo’s lap and pretended to sleep.
Throughout the month, guests from all different countries came and went. And there were talks of Brexit and Bollywood, Thai mobsters and techno reggae, zombie survival and the scourge of women. And so much more that probably shouldn’t be shared on a public blog in order to, uh, protect the guilty and all that. 😉
There was one commonality that kept surfacing.
“Women are complicated,” the humans kept saying.
I suppose occupying one’s mind with something other than food and sex makes one slightly more complicated, yes. Although, in the men’s defense, I only think about food and sleep. Oh, and chasing pussy cats. Oh, my god…maybe I’m really a man!
After listening to a deluge of complaints about women, Jo finally said:
“Listen, women are like burritos. You’re like, ‘Mmm, these are tasty! Everything I ever wanted all wrapped up in a cute lil package of tastiness.’ You eat the hell out of that burrito, then another, and another. And you have the time of your life, until the next day when you’re sitting on the toilet, shitting your brains out because that burrito tore you up inside and made you question all that is good in the world. You swear you will never go near another burrito again. But then you do.”
One of the guests (laughing): “Did you just compare women to burritos?!”
Oates: “What’s a burrito?”
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Jo: “Why do kids come out with the football players at the start of a game?”
Oates: “They’re eaten afterwards.”
One of the guests: “They’re a sacrifice to the Loch Ness Monster!”
Never did get a proper answer to this. Why do kids come out with the players??
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They talked about how nobody had heard of sharp cheese over here. Instead, it’s called mature and vintage. Perusing an aisle of cheese here is akin to choosing a bottle of wine or, in my case, the right kind of tennis ball to nose around. Cheese packages deliver descriptions of where that block of cheese hails from and whether it’s nutty or punchy. Great, so you have crazy cheese or cheese that’s gonna kick your ass. Cheese is serious business here.
They talked about how some pubs had depressions in the barstools, where men in kilts could rest their naughty bits.
Jo: “What’s the deal with that cool bag/satchel thing that Scotsmen wear with their kilts?”
Oates: “Well, they have to have something to go with wearing a skirt. Plus it keeps their pecker down and out of the way.”
Jo: “Makes sense.”
Later, they played a game of darts using a blowgun from the Amazon. Indeed, it was as awesome as it sounds. Jo did way better blowin’ than throwin’!
Another night, Jo committed a huge faux pas paw. She was talking with one of the Muslim guests in the kitchen while cooking dinner. When dinner was done, she took it out of the oven and, completely not thinking, put it on the counter near the guest, where the scent of pork chops filled the air. The poor guest quickly excused himself back out to the teepee. Nice going, Jo.
Our UK Travel Dictionary
Other than the obvious alight here, bollocks, queue, biscuits, and jumper terms, we’ve learned:
Opal Fruits – what Starbursts used to be known as. Sounds magical…like unicorn food!
Chuffed – happy/pleased
Geezer – guy/dude. Not like an old man from the U.S.
Pissed – drunk
Taking the piss – Taking advantage of/making fun of
Maths – math
Nip – going somewhere quickly/nearby
Kip – nap/sleep
Cotton buds – Q-tips
Plasters – Band-Aids
Walkers – Lays chips
Also learned there is NO NOXZEMA here!! Jo would probably be more successful hunting wild haggis than tracking down a container of Noxzema.
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Jo and Oates busted each other’s balls all month long! He razzed her for being American and she gave him shit for being German.
Oates: “Are Germans really that much of a pain in the ass?”
Jo: “No, but their choice in porn and mustaches is horrible.”
Oates (laughing): “And they have no sense of humor, too, right?”
Jo (laughing): “Yeah, that too.”
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In the end, I think Jo tamed the German beast just a little. He went from, “Try not to get hair everywhere” to “Make yourself at home,” and “Don’t think I’m going to be cooking for you every night” to cooking frequently for us…even surprising us with some mini chocolate donuts on a plate and a glass of “creamy whisky.” He was such a good cook, in fact, that Jo told him he should write his own book and maybe call it Intense German Cooking with a Side of Potatoes and Politics.
Oates: “I’m going to be finding Penny hairs for months after you guys leave. I’ll be constantly cleaning!”
Jo: “And every time you find one, you’ll always remember us!”
Oates grumbled…then laughed.
Jo did do her best to clean up all of my hairs before we left, but I’m sure there are some still floating around somewhere out there.
Crazy German Guy was unlike anyone we had ever met, an experience in the Highlands we will most certainly never forget!
Once again Penny, you wrote a great blog. The pictures were beautiful!
A teepee was unexpected. In Scotland? Who would have thunk it.
It is so different over there. So many new things to learn, to eat and to see!
And, all of these new friends you are meeting. Amazing.
Enjoy every fantastic minute. Take good care of Jo and stay safe!
Love, Pat
Thank you, Pat!! 😀 That’s exactly what we said when we saw the teepee online! We had no idea…not in Scotland!
I’m just as surprised as Jo that we haven’t put on any weight with all of this amazing food within paw’s reach.
And all of the unique, strange people is the best part of this crazy journey.
I’m doing my best to keep Jo out of trouble, Pat! 😉 Thanks so much for always leaving a kind comment…we love you!
Penny n’ Jo
Another PAWSOME blog Penny. I am beginning to think Jo is just a drag-along for you as it seems you are doing all the work on these blogs! She certainly is valuable as a food source tho………………..haha! Love you guys! What about the time I went ballistic thinking German man had kidnapped and killed Jo?
Bahaha! I’m digging the dog puns, Gma! Yes, well, Jo and I have an understanding. She feeds me (that’s a given) and helps me get to these different places to get epic pictures. But yeah, I pretty much do all the rest…when I’m not busy reciting Shakespeare to myself in front of a mirror, that is.
P.S. (pupscript) The Gma freakout comes up in the very next blog post. 😀
I love you! Jo’s busy stuffing her face with tacos, but she mumbled something about loving you too. 😉
My God Penny. You are so funny! If you ever decide to take your comedic side on the road, let me know. Would be happy to be your promoter. By the way, when you said that you guys “whipped out Peeny:, all I could imagine was that commercial where the guy that had long blonde hair with rippling muscles and just flipping it around. Can’t believe it’s not butter or words to that affect. Probably not what you were thinking. Yeah, stay away from that haggis. And by the way, you have Jo well trained. Love the pics she takes so tell her to keep them coming. Have fun in Edinburgh. Love and miss you guys.
I would LOVE to have you as a promoter, Gpa! That’d be one hell of a roadshow. 😉 You’re talking about Fabio with the “I can’t believe it’s not butter.” That’s who the wild haggis totally looks like! Don’t ask me how I know what Fabio looks like. Must be all the commercials I’m forced to watch when Jo is too busy to entertain me properly. 😀 I DO have Jo well trained, don’t I? She thinks she’s training me when we go on walks, but little does she know… We are having an amazing time in Edinburgh, thank you, Gpa! Thank you for always leaving amazingly supportive comments on my blog. Wish Jo would be as supportive of my dreams. Geez! We love and miss you bunches!!