I’m half Welsh, the other half is Scot.  I’m a bit of an Anglophile when it comes to literature, tea, Merchant Ivory films, and of course anything having to do with Masterpiece and Mystery.  BUT.  I’m very proud of my Welsh and Scot heritage.

Traveling to Scotland a few years ago, frankly, the weather was such that all I wanted for the most part was more tea….to warm up.  Part of the problem with that leg of the trip was my Dad had a bad cold; shut up in a chilly Edinburgh hotel room in July is no place to be when you’re sick OR well.

Even in summer, the farther north one goes in Scotland the colder it gets.  And yet, the rugged chill of summer appealed to me.

There were several highlights to this Scotland trip:  Edinburgh, the Open Championship in Troon, and visiting the statue of Mel Gibson in Stirling.  Yes, that’s what I said….but first to Edinburgh.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Edinburgh was majestic, even if it was cold.  Part of the cold comes from the architecture, which is primarily darkish stone, which in some lights looks as if smoke from a fire had stained and shadowed every exterior surface everywhere.  The Royal Mile is marked by architectural openings called “closes”.  They are charming, they all have names, one could escape into them, I’d never seen them anywhere else.  One was inscribed with Robert Burns presence.  The view from Edinburgh Castle, high atop the city, is powerfully transcendent.

 

Then, we headed to Royal Troon to the Open Championship, otherwise known as the British Open.  This was especially a pilgrimage for my Dad, who had been a life-long, avid golfer.  I have since taken up the game, but even then I knew enough about the game to know that this was very cool indeed.  Watching Tiger Woods at the practice range before he teed off….  rambling among the grassy links, stopping for an ale to take off the chill.  Being there with my Dad – for whom this had to be a way bigger deal than it was for me or my Mom.  It doesn’t get better than that.

Links golf is unlike any other golf.  It’s rugged, it’s beautiful.  Although, as my Mom kept saying, the golf course itself was pretty drab and brown.  Ok, she said it was ugly.  And she was kind of right.  Nothing like the pristine green courses one sees in the United States.  But, pristine is not always best.  So, when in Rome……

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After Troon, we stayed a night in Stirling, and headed the next morning to visit the battlefield at Bannockburn where Robert the Bruce led the Scots to win their freedom from England after William Wallace was murdered by the English.  We drove into the parking lot (so sad that there had to be a parking lot), and well, parked.  We noticed a sculpture nearby.  Kind of a strange place to put a sculpture, but it looked like a warrior, so that made sense.  My Mom and I walked closer, and read the plaque, ok, William Wallace.  I don’t think either of us really knew what he looked like, so this was interesting.  Then we kept looking, and thought, something is very off here.  It was no sculpture of William Wallace.  It was Mel Gibson as William Wallace.  That was just….wrong.  I was as big a fan of the film as the next person, but really?

As big a history nut as I am, and my Mom is an even bigger one (and she’s done the reading to back it up), it was so sad to see commercialism and something so trite and tacky take prominence in such a sacred place, depending on what one thinks of the the whole Longshanks and Robert the Bruce betrayal business.  Although, I can’t call that carpark a sacred place; one had to climb a thousand steps up to the battlefield area to experience the actual history.   Experiencing that moment was hysterically tragic.

I’ve since learned that the sculpture was given back to the sculptor because of the construction of a visitor center in the vicinity.  Now, a visitor center may be just as tacky as a statue of Mad Max in the Bannockburn car park.  But not quite.