[A note: I know everyone wants personal photos, but because I fancy myself a photographer I kinda like to take the photos; not have them taken with me in them! Also, I hate photos of myself; in fact, I prefer photos without people. There's nothing more annoying than a beautiful view spoilt by a face in the foreground! That said, I do get the point of holiday photographs, though my motive in photographing Scotland was NOT to get holiday snaps. Yes, I'm talking too much... *shuts up*]

Scotland was mind-numbingly beautiful, and I couldn’t believe it when I found myself in the unofficial capital of the Scottish Highlands — Inverness. Recently accorded the status of a city, it is also the fastest-growing one in Western Europe, a tag that appears to fill local residents with pride, but I could only feel a sadness that any more “development” would ruin it all.

That said, we mustn’t evaluate development on the terms that it seems to proceed here. Nowhere in Great Britain did I see any sign of the rampant commercialisation that we in India have fallen prey to. Protecting their heritage is something that they truly take pride in; unlike us — we make a song and dance about it, but actually care little.

Yes, sorry… where were we? Scotland. Right. It is obvious how much pride the Scots take in their, well, Scottishness. And it’s amazing how, in that tiny wet little island, a few hours journey north from England seems to bring you into a different world. It’s not just the kilts and the haunting music — there is something else that is hard to pin down. When the English were universally labelled as “bland”, no doubt they were being measured up against the Scots! (And now I have to make sure no Englishman/woman I know ever reads my blog…)

I spent two days in Inverness, and one of those was taken up by a cruise up the Caledonian Canal to the Loch Ness. Bundled up in as many layers as I owned (thermal tee, woollen polo-neck, fleece jacket, waterproof jacket), I still froze my butt off. It rained more or less incessently as well — all the locals I met apologised profusely for the weather, like it was their fault — but I hadn’t come all the way across the world to sit in the cabin of the Queen Elizabeth and stare out of the window with a drink in my hands.

Indescribably beautiful though the Loch Ness was — and no, I didn’t see Nessie (I’m so sick of being asked!) — the Caledonian Canal was fascinating too. Hailed as a magnificient feat of engineering, it was built in the early 19th century, and connects the east and west coasts of Scotland. There is a series of locks (over two dozen of them) to account for the difference in the water levels. We navigated through one of them, the Dochgarroch Lock. Our boat was locked in the chamber as the lock master opened sluice gates under water to equalize the water level inside the lock and in the direction we were headed. The water level went up by 2.5 feet, level with the Loch Ness, before we could sail on. (There is a series of locks known as the Neptune Staircase, which raises the water level by 60 feet over 500 yards!)

Okay, shutting up once again. Click on the collage as usual for the photo album.

~PD

I had a few days to kill in London before my Scotland trip, and killing time in London is not difficult at all. Having some fond memories of Maritime Greenwich, I decided to revisit it. It happened to be one of the most perfect days weather-wise of my three-week stay, but the one place I was most fascinated by was the underwater Greenwich Foot Tunnel that scales the two sides of the Thames.

Climbing down an unending flight of winding stairs — there were about 90 steps — you come to a cold, spooky tunnel that dips downwards and disappears off to a point. As you plod your way through and see some small puddles and patches of dampness, it suddenly strikes you that you have a whole bloody river above and around you! It was creepy in a nice sort of way — nice enough that I had to go back and forth twice.

The other highlight was the Prime Meridian and the Royal Observatory. It was a nice walk through the grounds of the National Maritime Museum and a decent climb to reach it, but was worth it in the end. I didn’t have the patience to stand in line and get photographed with my feet planted on two sides of the Prime Meridian, so I cheated. The view from up there was great though, and the Camera Obscura was fascinating.

The next day I went over to the British Museum to take a look at the stuff the Brits have pinched from all over the world over the ages. It was quite fantastic, to be honest, but I haven’t bothered to put up photos — heck, we’ve seen them all in our history books!

That night Sumaira met me at Victoria Station to collect our Scotland train tickets, and we roamed around Trafalgar Square and Soho before heading home for a night before the TV like a couple of sad, old women!

Anyway, click on the collage:

~PD

Following Niklas’s advice of being an exhibitionist — but mostly after the scare of nearly losing all my photos — I finally kicked my lazy butt into putting up my Britain pics. No, don’t worry, I will not subject the public at large to every last one of those 1,396 photos. Instead, what will follow are a selection of the better ones, categorized by location, spread over a number of posts.

To kick off are photographs from my two-day trip of Stratford-Upon-Avon. This was my second visit to Shakespeare country, and even more memorable than the first. Of course, Hamlet had a lot to do with that. Altogether, it is a quaint little town, and all you need are a map, a pair of comfortable shoes, and a few hours to spare to explore the whole place. Of course, an umbrella is a given anywhere in England!

My only worry was how to get home from the theatre at night — it’d be almost midnight — but Paul, my B&B guy looked at me incredulously and said, “You walk!” He was also very disappointed in me that I’d chosen to give my extra Hamlet ticket back to the Royal Shakespeare Company in exchange for my money back, when they were going for up to £400 in the black market! However, a vision of me languishing in prison instead of enjoying the play had flashed across my mind…

I met some interesting people. One was Martha, a Canadian college student who bought the ticket I returned. The other was Sam the ferry operator. It transpired he had been to Bangalore, and our chat about Lalbagh made two old ladies almost miss their bus. My one night in Stratford was my first solo holiday, and I realized I would be wanting more of those in future!

Clicky on the collage to go to my Stratford album.

~PD
(P.S.: If you’d like to comment on any of the photos, do so here and not on the album, please.)