Two and a half years ago, Stacy and I were backpacking our way through Greece and Italy. Our travels took us through Cinque Terre, where we ended up spending a relaxing 3 nights in the rather idyllic town of Vernazza. It was a favorite for both of us.

Just a few weeks ago, her mom sent us a link to these images on Rick Steves' blog. At the end of October, a massive mudslide crashed through the streets of Vernazza -- leaving the town in ruins. It breaks my heart to see this beautiful town so devastated.

(images from Rick Steves)

We part ways

This morning I dropped Stacy off at the airport and by this evening she'll be home. I have one more night in Edinburgh and then get up way too early tomorrow morning to drop off the rental car and catch a flight to Paris. I'll be spending 6 nights there with my mom and then I'll head home.

It's been a great trip. Thanks to all of you for following along with us!

We'll probably post a few more pictures in the coming days if you want to check back. No promises, though.

Culloden Battlefield

The last few days of our trip have been great. We have loved driving through Scotland -- from Oban we went North to the Isle of Skye for a couple days and then over to Inverness for a night before finishing up our time here in Edinburgh.

Two days ago, we went to the Culloden Battlefield just outside of Inverness. The visitor's center was amazing -- what every museum/exhibit should be. It was balanced and interactive -- using everything from touch screen maps and video to screens and plaques to tell the story of the final stand of Bonnie Prince Charlie. Once you make your way through the center, they hand you a gps audio guide and send you out on the field. As you walk the paths, the gps triggers your audio guide to start telling you about what happened at the place you're standing. We were both really impressed by it.

I was very moved by the story of Culloden. Surprisingly so. There's something sort of heartbreaking about all of these Highlanders (and Irish and French) fighting on the front lines for a Prince who can't seem to admit he's been beaten. They were forced to make their final stand on a field that left them no chance again the government army (which included Highlanders) and then -- after they retreated -- they were hunted down over the next few days and killed. Though we learned that there were Scots fighting on both sides and that it wasn't actually a battle of independence, it still sort of feels like their last stand against the British. After this loss, their country was cleared of all heritage and tradition.

As they suggested in the visit, it's hard not to wonder, "What if?"

*photos borrowed from flickr users winninator and john forbes.

From the Emerald Isle to our Highland Fling

4:45 a.m. Yes, that's right. We were up early on July 15. Our sweet B&B hostess, Erna, laid our juice and milk in thermosses so that we could have cereal and fruit before we headed off on another long day of travel. So, walking, train, taxi, plane, car, and we were zipping out of Glasgow and into the Scottish Highland.

Our first truly, "Ahhhhhhhhh!" (think angels singing) moment was driving around the rugged, misty, and green beauty around Loch Lomond. (Insert the song "Ye'll take the high road, and I'll take the low road, and I'll be in Scoptland afore ye.......on the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond!" Just try and get that out of your head.) From there we drove up to the "Rest-and-Be-Thankful Pass" which gave more views of the craggy mountains and green valleys. This was the pass where 2nd and 3rd-class coach passengers would get out and push the coach and the first-class passengers up the hill in the 1880's. Funny!

From there we headed to Oban. What a gorgeous home base and known as the "gateway to the isles." On Friday we headed to the islands of Mull and Iona. From Oban we took a ferry to the Isle of Mull.

We took a scenic drive through Mull with a hilarious bus driver that told funny anecdotes about "wee little Belgian man that does all of our thinking for us (in reference to the European commission)" or the tour guide from Edinburgh who didn't know anything about the islands and would just fill those American tourists heads with nonsense about Scots spending their days tossing cabers, doing the Highland fling, cutting peat for heat because they're so poor, and playing their bagpipes. Needless to say, the locals were sickened by the nonsense the man was imparting to those naive people and were not a bit upset when a bee flew up the man's kilt and stung him!

At the far side of Mull at Fionnphort, we got on a smaller ferry that rocked quite a bit (Thank you Bonine!) and we reached Iona. Iona is known as the birthplace of Christianity in Scotland. St. Columba came from Ireland in 563 and set up an abbey on Iona. This became the center of Celtic Christianity. Missionaries were sent out from Iona to spread the gospel throughout Scotland and Northern Ireland. Iona was also a place for learning and the arts. It was here that the Book of Kells was started. We saw the original at Trinity College in Dublin. Iona was so important at that time that it was a legendary burial place for important Scottish lairds and even Scandinavian kings (even the real MacBeth from Shakespeare). We saw the road where they would have the procession of the dead to the cemetary. There were some intricate stone Celtic Crosses and a copy of the Book of Kells. They also have a nunnery on this island that thrived at that time. Now Iona has a population of only around 100, but it was incredible yet again to see places that God has used to preserve his Word and spread his Gospel.

hearing from the IRA

Falls Road Mural
Originally uploaded by etrusia_uk (Away for a while)

Northen Ireland was one of the places I was most excited to visit on this trip. After hearing bits and pieces of its turbulant history (and also hearing that it is now relatively peaceful), I was looking forward to seeing it for myself.

So, of course, we end up arriving on July 12th -- a national holiday in Northen Ireland and the day that rioting and unrest is most likely to break out. Our train was stopped 30 minutes outside of Belfast because a train further up the tracks had been petrol bombed. We were bused into Belfast and took a train to the station nearest our B&B. When we walked out to the street, we could see the end of a parade just up the road. There were people everywhere with the Northern Ireland flag draped around their shoulders or carrying batons in the colors of England's flag. Most of them were young and drunk and -- considering what we'd just heard about the other train -- we were a bit nervous.

We made straight for our B&B, heading out again just to find something to eat and then returning. We were thankful that we were staying on a quiet street (and also that we were Americans as it is the British who are most harrassed by the Nationalists when feelings are hot).

The next morning, we headed over towards Falls Road -- Nationalist Catholic territory -- for a walking tour led by a former political prisoner. He acknowledged at the beginning that he was sharing his story and therefore reflecting only his point of view. He encouraged us to read up on the other side of things when we got home.

It was a fascinating tour -- mostly because of the details and insights he shared. More on that in a later post.

The Falls Road murals are ever shifting and focus not only on the revolution in Ireland, but on revolutions around the world. It's a way of expressing solidarity for other groups of people struggling for independence. Pretty cool.

No time to write!

So check out some of these awesome shots Stacy took from our time in Dingle. If you head over to my flickr page, you can find a bit more detail in the descriptions of some of the pictures.

Get the flash player here: http://www.adobe.com/flashplayer

Irish Pubs: The Danger

One of our "musts" in Ireland was live music. Everything we read said that you can't go to Ireland without popping into a couple pubs in the evening to hear the live music. What they don't tell you is to beware the friendly Irish men who've been drinking and are on the lookout for girls to flirt with.

We met one such young man who'd obviously thrown back a few pints by the time he sat down at our table. The conversation was most stimulating:

(read italics in an unenthusiastic and off-puting voice)

Sir Drinks-a-Lot: Hello, girls.
Us: Hi.
Sir Drinks-a-Lot: Where're you from?
Us: The States.
Sir Drinks-a-Lot: So do you have boyfriends?
Stacy (for us both): Yes. (Jen chose not to clarify.)
Sir Drinks-a-Lot: Why aren't they with two such beautiful girls?
Us: We're very trustworthy girls.
Sir Drinks-a-Lot: Where are you staying?
Stacy: Somewhere.
Jen: Down the road. (Irish translation: somewhere within a two-mile radius of here.)
Sir Drinks-a-Lot: Ah. You're beautiful girls.
Us. Thanks.

Sir Drinks-a-Lot: Well. Have a good holiday.
Us: Bye.

And that, dear friends, is how to get rid of a drunken (and friendly) Irishman.

In spite of this, we had a great time. The pub felt very safe -- lots of locals and tourists watching the exchange and laughing. And the music was awesome.