Worldcon 2005 UK - Tartan Tat, Tasty Treats, and Ruins, Ruins, Ruins

Tartan Tat, Tasty Treats, and Ruins, Ruins, Ruins

Jane Yolen's Scotland

Guided Tours

Rennie Mackintosh

Links and Resources

Tartan Tat, Tasty Treats, and Ruins, Ruins, Ruins

A few years ago, friends of mine in St Andrews dubbed me a part-time Caledonian because I live in Scotland 4-6 months of the year. Actually, I was a Scotophile even before setting a foot past Hadrian’s Wall. But unlike my husband and children and grandchildren, I do not have an ounce of Scottish blood in me, though there may be Scandinavian through the Ukraine connection, because Kiev was a great Viking trading center. (That would certainly explain my grandmother Yolen’s red hair and blue eyes.) And remembering how many Vikings gave their genes and their vocabulary to Scotland, perhaps I can claim to be a clan cousin of sorts.

The first thing that happens to visitors who discover Scotland is that they fall in love with the landscape – the sheep-dotted hillsides, the brown and purple heather on the mountains, the stone walls like dragon spines defining the fields, the harled and whitewashed cottages huddled together, the dark ruins of a castle on a headland, the sea mist (the “haar”) that strides across gardens and obscures the road.

Then the visitors fall in love with the Scottish people. Wiry shepherds whistling up their dogs on a Highland hillside. A storyteller in a cafe explaining the real history of Argyll. A bevy of old darlings on a gossipy tea break. Three men in a pub alternately arguing football, rugby, and politics. A crusty caddy at the Old Course cursing the R&A. A professor of computational science coaching young runners in his spare time. University students in red robes walking along the stone weir. Women at the drying lines chatting as they put up their clothes. The shop girl who thanks the customer not once but twice for buying something. The owner of a porridge oats mill showing off his machinery with pride. Fishermen in a small harbour readying their nets while talking of the weather. The farmer walking his crop line. The minister taking time to show an interested tourist around his church.

Then the visitors fall in love with the history, the blood and guts of it, the sheep and cattle raids and red-letter days, the battle for Independence, the sinister politicking, the lairds who valued sheep over clan, the Darien scheme that broke the country’s bank and heart, the Stuarts who had more charisma than brains. Enough for thousands of books (and you can find them) and plays and movies (and you can see them) and songs. And you can hear those songs still sung with the vigour and passion as when they were first made, in pubs and at ceilidhs and in the streets at Festival time.

And some of us even fall in love with the food. I know, hard to believe. But I happen to love haggis. (There is a vegetarian haggis that fair misses the point!) And a bowl of porridge to start my morning makes me fall in love all over again. How about Arbroath smokies and venison steak, potato and leek soup, cullen skink? And the fish and lamb dishes are to be treasured indeed. Don’t forget Scottish strawberries, the best in the world. And cheeses to die for. Be sure to try a cranachan for dessert. Yes, it’s made with the ubiquitous porridge oats, but even if you don’t like the sound of that, you will love the dish. Trust me. Did I forget to mention single malt whiskys? Well, since I’m not a drinker, they don’t rush to the front of my mind. But there are more single malts to be tried while you are here than you have days for it, especially if you are only visiting for a month.

Now if your time is severely curtailed (and after fourteen years here we are still discovering things) here are some special castles, cathedrals, historic buildings, and places that my family and I think you shouldn’t miss. I am not listing any of the wonders of Glasgow, as you will already have had your time there. This is for before or after the convention.

Edinburgh Castle, perched like an eagle in its aerie. Be sure to see the crown jewels, and the War Memorial designed by Sir Robert Lorimer, who with Charles Rennie Mackintosh was the best Arts & Crafts architect Scotland ever produced. You get great views from the walls. And don’t worry, no one but Scots ever managed to take the castle. You’ll be safe there.

A mile down the road in Edinburgh is Holyrood Castle where Mary Queen of Scots lived and watched her secretary slaughtered in front of her. They say the bloodstain is still there, though I have it on good authority that it gets tarted up regularly and, occasionally, moved!

In East Lothian is Tantallon Castle, a great red rock of ruins standing on the cliff and overlooking the Firth of Forth. It has been described as “three sides of wall-like rock and one side of rocklike wall.” And it has the best extant curtain wall of any Scottish castle. Once a Douglas stronghold, it was only brought down by the guns of Oliver Cromwell’s General Monk. But its sheer size and imposing ruins still awe the spectators.

Be sure to take the boat that goes around the Bass Rock, the great gannetry where a huge percentage of the world’s gannets nest. The bird’s Latin name is Sula Bassana, the goose of the Bass. It is on the Bass Rock that a character from a Robert Louis Stevenson novel capered as a fetch. There was once a prison there. (And in the Fife fishing villages, children used to be told that boys came from the Bass and girls from the May – the May Island.)

Sir Walter Scott’s house, Abbotsford, in the Tweed Valley is one of my personal favorites as it demonstrates what a well-known writer can do when he’s made a bit of money. (And then lost it and made it again.) The walled garden is wonderful, the view across the Tweed spectacular. (My husband who is a fly fisherman nearly wept at the idea of having one’s own “beat” on the river.) But it’s Scott’s library that book lovers will faunch after. When I die, I want to go to Abbotsford.

An hour north and east of Edinburgh, in St Andrews, is the ruins of the great St Andrews Cathedral, which was the religious heart of medieval Scotland. Both North and South Streets of the town lead directly to the cathedral and – surprising for a medieval city – they are very wide streets. That’s because this was a pilgrimage cathedral and the pilgrims used to walk down twenty and thirty abreast. The relics of St Andrew were housed here for many years until they were lost in the Reformation.

St Andrews University is here as well, the third oldest university in Britain, after Oxford and Cambridge. Prince William is a student, and when it was announced he would be going to St Andrews, the percentage of American girls applying for entrance went up close to tenfold. (As if...) By the convention he will have graduated, so don’t expect to bump into him casually on the street.

The pinkish pile with many turrets in Angus is Glamis Castle, the childhood home of the late Queen Mother. It has a gorgeous tree-lined drive, enormous gardens, a resident ghost, a Shakespeare connection, and a lot of family portraits that are marvelous to view. Though you will have to share your enthusiasm for the place with dozens and dozens of other tourists in August.

Scone Palace is a neo-gothic pile that stands on the grounds of Scone Abbey where many of the Scottish kings – including Robert the Bruce – were crowned while sitting on the Stone of Scone, the Stone of Destiny. The Stone disappeared, taken by Edward I (Longshanks, the wicked king of Braveheart) in 1296 – if you believe the English. The Stone was secreted away – if you believe the Scots. Here There Be Peacocks. They can be vicious if you picnic in the Palace grounds.

In Perthshire is Blair Castle, home of the Duke of Atholl, the only man in Britain allowed to have a private army. (It was a Queen Victoria moment of Romantic madness.) The castle looks rather as if Disney built it, for it is white and turreted and has a piper who walks up and down the promenade playing his pipes on the hour. In fact the oldest parts date back to the thirteenth century, though a lot of it is Victorian. The paneled entryway is filled with muskets, swords, and shields; the hallways lined with antlers from local deer.

The ruins of Dunnottar Castle, on the east coast near Arbroath, perch on a craggy headland. Here nearly 200 Covenanters were jailed in a room fit for about 13. And here a Douglas girl slipped out with the crown jewels hidden in her apron or her laundry basket, saving them from the marauding Cromwellians. And here Mel Gibson shot his movie of “Hamlet”. You’ll need good walking shoes and working knees to climb first down and then up to the castle, but it’s our family’s favourite.

Another ruins further up the coast above Aberdeen, Slains Castle was the inspiration for a visiting Irish writer named Bram Stoker. It’s about a mile walk from the parking lot, and you might find a family of weasels playing in the stone walls. And maybe you will be better able than I was to understand how this windswept, seaside ruin inspired the tree-girt mountain castle of Count Dracula. But hurry – there are plans afoot by developers to turn the castle into Vampire Condominiums. And the town is positively disposed towards them. (I kid you not.)

Cawdor Castle, not far from Inverness, is one of my favorites. Small enough to be lived in, the Thane of Cawdor and his family still make it their home. The late thane wrote some of the wittiest of notes for visitors to read. Each time I go, I laugh out loud at his comments about the rooms. There is a great walled garden and some nature walks as well. This is the castle I could easily own, were I a Scottish millionaire and married to the thane.

Alas – I have run out of space, but be sure to put these on your ‘To See’ list as well, if you have the time:

Stirling Castle: think Braveheart, not the movie but the history, a straight run northwest from Edinburgh.

Culloden Battlefield near Inverness which, even on a sunny day, is gloomy and ghost-ridden.

Dunvegan Castle on Skye, with its fairy legend and resident selkies (seals) on the rocks.

Skara Brae Neolithic site on Orkney that teaches you that our Stone Age ancestors knew a thing or two about drains.

Melrose Abbey in the Borders, where Thomas the Rhymer learned his ABCs and Robert the Bruce’s heart is buried.

Arbroath Abbey near Dunnottar, where, in 1320, Scotland’s declaration of freedom from England was signed.

Meigle Sculpture Stone Museum in northeast Perthshire, which houses over 30 Pictish stones. What – you don’t know a thing about Pictish stones? You will after visiting here.

Oh, and about that Tartan Tat in the title? That’s what the Scots witheringly call all the kilted dolls, tee-shirts with Scottish thistles, dishes marked “Haste ye back”, Old Course ball markers, bagpipe-shaped keychains, stuffed animals shaped like Highland cows, and all the rest. Never mind. It’s all in fun. And it’s good for the local economy.

Page last updated 18^th November 2004