Kirkcudbright is 'Dy-no-mite!'

Kirkcudbright, a recent destination for one of our famous day trips, is a lovely, arty town located at the estuary of the River Dee in Galloway.

First order of business: I had to learn how to pronounce the name properly. It is most definitely not pronounced how it looks: kur (to rhyme with fur) KOO (to rhyme with fu manchu) bree (to rhyme with tree). So that's kur-KOO-bree, emphasis on the KOO. I guess I should apologize for the title of this post, then. Sorry. Sorry Kirkcudbright. Sorry Jimmy Walker of Good Times fame. Sorry.

There are several noticable things about Kirkcudbright. The ruin of Maclellan's Castle dominates one end of the town, where Castle Street and Cuthbert Street meet. I didn't think the castle was particulary nice to look at, but see a nicely drawn town map here.

Another noticeable thing about the town, something I haven't seen much of in the UK, is wide streets. They aren't as wide as Salt Lake City's streets, or the streets in Las Vegas (which you need to file something akin to a flight plan before you cross), but they are very wide for British streets.

Kirkcudbright has one of the more interesting WWI memorials I've seen. It is a statue of a man with a sword and shield protecting a small boy. Usually they are just a stone pillar with names on them. Something interesting to note is that the WWI memorials in these little towns have a lot (I'm not kidding) of soldier's names on them, about twice as many as WWII. I'm always moved by seeing those lists of names, especially when in a very small village. I look around and think my God, nearly all of the men from this little town were lost. And then twenty years later, another world war. It is sobering.

Another thing you notice is that the town does pride itself on being home to a lot of artists. I think a town that promotes the arts is a very good town indeed. In keeping with the arty feeling, the citizens seem to have agreed that it would be really cool to paint their houses interesting colors, so you do get that seaside town feeling when you look around.

Here are a few pics of Kirkcudbright. Enjoy. 

Click for the larger pic and you'll see the house near the end of the street is purple

This lovely church was turned into several private flats

You better not misbehave in Kirkcudbright

 

 Loved Ones Lost at Sea

'To The Glorious Dead: 1914 - 1918'

Fishing boat in Kirkcudbright Harbour along the river Dee

 You are not allowed to drive your car into the harbour

Beachcombing in Galloway

Standing on the beach looking back at Carsethorn, The Steamboat Inn, and shrouded Criffel.

Galloway is a wonderful place for beachcombers. In one visit to Kippford in June, we doubled the size of our collection of sea glass. Just the other day at the beach at Carsethorn, we doubled it again.  Even found a chunky blue bit of glass. I wonder if sea glass just isn't a big deal here. The beaches all over Puget Sound are usually picked clean. I made some truly wonderful finds in the non-glass areas as well. We'll have a bit of show-and-tell just below.

And in a bit of related news for you, I have started a new blog.  This one is dedicated to beach-combing pics with a little bit of info thrown in. It's a work in progress, but there are already pics posted. Please join in the fun. I'm looking to promote it and improve it.

A bit of an Oriental ceramic piece, smooth to the touch

 

 

 

 

Wonderfully faded Dutch ceramic piece, no bigger than a ten pence.

Blue row boat.

It's all about the blue.

Village Life 2: The Sounds of Dalbeattie

respice prospice.
learn from the past - look to the future.

I notice sounds here in the UK even more than I did in the States. I think this is because everything is so new to me. I have to pay close attention; I have to listen well, particularly here in Scotland, in order to understand what people are saying to me. The accents and indeed the vocabulary is very different from England and from the States. It takes a bit of getting used to, and I admit, if someone is a fast-talker I miss about half of what is said. I listen for key words and tone of voice, and look at facial expression to capture meaning in context; failing that, I look to my partner who very kindly translates for me. I am usually understood when I speak (though not always). I think this has more to do with speaking in a slow, western drawl than with the overall mildness of my accent. In fact, the very notion of my 'mild accent' is beginning to erode. It took me a while to admit that I even had an accent; my denials were met with guffaws. I switched to espousing the idea that, although I might have an accent, it is without question a very, very mild one. This was met with bemused looks, and pats on the head. Of course I have an accent. It is a western drawl of the North American variety. Okay. Fine. Let's move on.

By far the most pleasant sound we encounter is the friendly banter between locals that we hear from the downstairs café. It opens at 9am and by 9:30am a group of regulars are in and chatting. We can't make out what is said but we hear the tone, cadence and accent. It is punctuated with much laughter. To my ear it sounds roughly like: hee hah hoh ahhh, oh aye HAHAHAHAHA! It's like a babbling brook of friendliness. It always puts a smile on my face.

And that last bit (oh, aye HAHAHAHAHA!) is standard and oft heard in Dalbeattie. As is the greeting 'HiYAHH.' Emphasis on the drawn out YAHH. It's not like a karate chop (HIYA!!) like Miss Piggy is famous for; and it's not as clipped as the greeting I commonly use (hiya). Anyway, we think it is a local custom. We haven't heard it said like that anywhere else.

Another local custom is for the young of the village to hang out at The Cross on Friday and Saturday nights, into the wee hours of the morning. They chat, shout, sing, and slurr incomprehensibly as the night goes on. Living in noisy Canterbury with 40,000 college students was good practice for living at The Cross. To be fair, there isn't much in Dalbeattie for the young to do on a weekend, and the fact that they are out (in good weather) singing and laughing instead of texting or playing video games or creating teen pregnancies is something to be glad about. However, I must admit to sometimes praying for a rain shower that lasts from 11pm to 3am. They tend to scurry away when it rains. Which should be most of the winter, I would think. The sound of rain is a lovely thing in itself.

Because we are in the center of town where there are restaurants, small supermarkets and pubs, we also hear the early morning delivery trucks roll in. We hear the drivers operating the tailgates and moving racks of things around as they make their deliveries. It's the sound of commerce; this, in a small town, in a difficult economy, is a welcome sound. Doesn't bother me a bit. Not even the especially loud 4am delivery truck.

One of the most soothing sounds of Dalbeattie is the rushing of the burn. Note: burn is a Scots word to mean small river. The burn flows right through the center of Dalbeattie towards the River Urr. We like to walk along the bank and listen to the water. And there's always Dalbeattie Forest with it's chirping birds and chattering red squirrels. The forest is adjacent to the town, and once inside, it's amazing how quickly the sounds of human endeavor drop away.

The sounds of Dalbeattie range from the friendly banter of locals to machines of commerce to the soothing sounds of nature. All within a small radius, a ten minute walk.

on the bank of the burn

aprapos of 'HiYAHH' this is the only bit of graffiti i've discovered in Dalbeattie thus far.
note the artistic shadow of the camera and my hand.
for comparison purposes, see my past blog entry about graffiti, the peace of wild things.

Village Life 1: Loads of Granite

As I write this, I'm looking out one of the windows at our place in southwest Scotland. Our granite building is a good couple of hundred years old and situated at the top of a T junction called The Cross, in the center of a little village called Dalbeattie. That's Dail Bheithe in Gaelic, meaning something close to 'valley of the birch trees.' The window glass is old and uneven and makes the village outside look a bit wobbly. I can see the stately granite building, marked 1883, at one corner, and next to it the bright blue building that houses one of the local butchers. Beyond that the steeple of a church points skyward.

On the other corner across the street is the Kings Arms Hotel, another granite building. It is a small hotel, restaurant, lounge and public bar. The public bar has its own entrance and that is where the men drink. You could go in there if you are a woman, but all of the patrons will stop drinking, stop talking, and turn to stare at you. Not unfriendly exactly, but you can hear a pin drop. Ask me how I know this [smiles sweetly]. I do enjoy the locally brewed ale they have on tap. The staff is friendly, the lounge and garden lovely and the food gets an A.

But back to the granite. Dalbeattie is famous for its granite, which is extremely hard and light grey in colour. As I'm sure you've gathered, many buildings in the town center are made of it. The local quarries supplied granite to places worldwide, including London, Liverpool, Manchester, the United States, and Sri Lanka (go figure). It has been used for buildings, lighthouses and roadworks (as crushed granite). Dalbeattie is the first place in the world where granite was polished on a commercial scale. This started in the 1830s and created a boom in granite polishing as Dalbeattie granite workers took their craft to various places around the world.

Did you know that granite is a natural source of radiation? I prefer my radiation from natural sources.

we live above three shops: a wonderful little restaurant (with delicious food of the sort that makes cardiologists rich) and two undertakers. 'nuff said.

small fern. big granite wall.

One Year On...

Hi folks.

I've got the computer situation sorted finally. I have a little netbook. It's a Windows environment, which I haven't used for about four years. Has Windows gotten better in the last four years, you ask? Nope. But I'm running Windows 7 Starter which seems fine and is far less a memory hog than the full version.


Today is the one year anniversary of my arrival in the UK. Hooray! I've enjoyed it and the UK government has seen fit to let me stay for two more years, at which time I'll apply for Indefinite Leave to Remain. That sounds like mixed messages, doesn't it? Leave to remain? Huh? Another example of BritSpeak. There was one the other day, too, when my partner asked me if her car was centered in the parking place and I told her she needed to pull up about three feet. I meant pull forward and she thought I meant pull back. I couldn't figure out why she had reversed. We exchanged confused looks and then had a good laugh. It's never dull, except possibly for this particular blog. I apologize for the lapse in entries.

We are right in the middle of our move to Scotland. All our stuff is in store waiting for the removal man to load it on his truck. I'm looking forward to settling in to a quiet life in the village. After busy Canterbury I'm sure it will seem quiet in our little town even though we will basically be living right in the center of the High Street. I'll update you all on our adventures refurbishing the property and getting to know the locals.

Southwest Scotland

Hi Folks. Here's the promised entry on our road trip to southwest Scotland. But first a couple of updates.


You might wonder how the coalition government I've written about is getting on. So far so good. They're planning to balance the budget within four years and create a surplus by year five. We'll be having cuts that will make Margaret Thatcher's government look generous, like Santa Claus even. There's no need to do this on such a tight timeframe, so it would have to be something political, like the fact that there will be another election in five years. Hmmm. I suspect that combining once opposing forces is causing some fuzzy thinking. The normally clear and concise Nick Clegg, leader of the GlibDems, wrote a recent Op-Ed piece in the Guardian. He trumps any of my bad sentences and wins the award for Best Incomplete Sentence Using Both a Colon And a Semicolon:


A new government but, more important, a new kind of government: plural, diverse; a Liberal Democrat-Conservative coalition that defies the rules of old politics.


Wow, Nick. Congratulations!


In other news, the little laptop I've been using for the last 18 months (kindly updated and supplied by my wonderful partner) has had a nervous breakdown. Too much writing. As we have much to do to prepare for our upcoming move to Scotland, and as I can access the internet by hiking up to the University library, we are not in a hurry to replace it. So if you are not getting replies immediately to your fan letters, that's why. Just thought I'd let you all know... all four of you.


Our trip to Scotland was very good. We drove (and when I say that I mean my partner drove while I assisted with the map) up to Dumfries and Galloway to visit the flat we'll be moving to in a couple of months and to check out the area. If you have not been to southwest Scotland, it's lovely. After being in busy Kent for the last ten months, the first thing I noticed was how much less crowded that part of Scotland is. There is a lot less traffic, though they still drive like bats out of hell. At least they have more space in which to do it.


The landscape is generally rolling green hills sectioned by stone fences and dotted with sheep. Lots of sheep. There is a wonderful big hill in the area called Criffel, which is (brace yourselves) 1,868 feet high. It stands alone near the sea, so it actually is a very dramatic sight. Dare I say it? It's the Mt. Rainier of Galloway! Truth be told, it's a ways north, and even something as modest as 1,800 feet can humble you at that latitude if inclement weather strikes. So I won't poke too much more fun at Scottish mountains.


We visited the lovely shell beaches near Kippford. We spent time in New Abbey, where the world famous Sweetheart Abbey is, and where we visited a beautiful backyard garden that made us feel as if we were miles out in the country rather than on the main road of a busy little village. We drove inland to the Samye Ling Tibetan Buddhist Centre, the first such place in the western world, established along the River Esk in 1967. It is lovely and I look forward to going back there. It's in a sparsely populated area and you do have to work hard to find it. It's both desolate and lush at once, and you really feel as if you are up in the high country somewhere. They have big hearty gardens there and they are working very hard on new construction of their buddhist college. They are also building a mandala shaped herb garden around a statue of Tara where they will grow Tibetan medicinal herbs. Apparently the climate in this part of Scotland is compatible for a number of Tibetan plants. The statue of Tara is very powerful. I think you'd have to be spiritually numb not to notice her and want to gaze at her.


The little town of Dalbeattie we will eventually call home is charming. It has a fairly bustling high street for a town its size and it is located in a beautiful area. I'll report more on our adventures there in future installments. For now, enjoy some photos from our trip.

This is generally what the countryside looks like

Sweetheart Abbey, founded 1275

A backyard garden in New Abbey with Criffel in the background



The same garden as above, looking toward Sweetheart Abbey

Detail of the shell beach at Kippford

Yes, the entire beach is like this.

The beach at Kippford

Entry gate at Samye Ling (complete with traffic cones)

A garden at Samye Ling

Prayer wheels at Samye Ling

Oddly, they are electric and spin on their own, so those among us who are very tactile were a little disappointed. But we're glad to know the prayers go out non-stop.

Tara keeping watch above her herb garden which is still under construction

June Smorgasbord

We have several little nuggets for you this month. Thoughts on BP and the curious reaction of a select few Brits. A trip to the seaside town of Deal. And a foodie update.

Oil & Politics (or Aw, Tony Wants His Life Back...)

President Obama should stop being mean to BP. After all, how was BP to know that there would not be nearly enough shore birds, shrimp, oysters, turtles, and dolphins to soak up all that oil? BP could not have predicted the serious lack of wildlife necessary for absorption, could they? For goodness sake, the Americans should have regulated things a bit better so that there were more fluffy feathers around. And now Obama’s anti-British rhetoric (the part where Obama says that Tony’s attitude would get him shit-canned in an Obama company) is costing British investors a little of their money. Outrageous! Share value could not possbly have dropped due to the fact that BP slightly underestimated the amount of oil leaking from its well, or that BP’s efforts to cap the leak have not been made often or successfully. Couldn’t possibly be the millions of pounds worth of lost oil that weaken share price or the BP CEO’s perfectly understandable bout of throwing teddy from the pram and saying he wants his mommy or his life back or something. Or his finger pointing. That couldn’t possibly have made the markets doubt BP. It must be that anti-British Obama’s fault.

And the American public! What about that pack of whiners? I mean, here they are getting all this free oil washing up on their shores and they do nothing but complain. It’s just like them. First they started throwing all that perfectly good tea in the harbor a few years back and now they don’t even want BP’s gift of free oil. Well that just takes the biscuit doesn’t it? Clearly Obama is trying to take the focus away from the more important business of the World Cup games (um, soccer for those of you who don't immediately know what I mean. England is planning to win it).

Ah, well, what can be done? Today’s sarcasm moment was brought to you by BP. It seems there are growing cries from a few doddering old fools in the House of Lords, and some rich British CEO’s that President Obama’s rhetoric against BP equates to anti-British sentiment. They say he’s being unstatesman-like and that he is damaging our ‘special relationship.’ And he’s just being a big old meanie to poor Tony. At the same time, these people remind us that BP is a multi-national company, not specifically a British company.

Without wanting to wear out my welcome here in the UK, I have just the teensiest complaint. Listen, poppets, you can’t have your crumpets and eat them too. Either BP is a British company or it’s a multi-national. If it is a British company, then take your lumps without being crybabies. If it is a multi-national, then stop being so hyper-sensitive. And, to quote the venerable Mrs. Slocombe, I am unanimous in that!

Mollie Sugden as Mrs. Slocombe in Are You Being Served?
1970's Brit sitcom.

Deal

We took a day trip to the seaside town of Deal the other day. Somewhat near the little towns of Ham and Sandwich. Yes, really. There was a cold wind from the north or possibly the east whipping along the shore, but the rocks of the beach had been heated by the sun, so from the knees down, it was actually a warm wind. I found several holey stones. Always a good thing. We had a beer in a pub called the Ship Inn. Lovely, warm and inviting. Then a stroll along the high street which had a combination of boutique touristy shops and everyday chains. The high street seems to meet the needs of tourists and the locals, which I thought was charming. There was something about Deal in the paper recently which said that the high street was 'v glum.' I don't agree with that. Note: Brits will sometimes abbreviate very to v. I find that v endearing.

Deal shoreline

They're everywhere. I think the five second rule had long expired.

Yeah, buddy. Ciggies. 30p for a pack.

When in Deal, consider yourself politely warned against bad parking practices.

A garden path in Deal

Foodie Section

And now for a food update. I do enjoy bringing a bit of Tex-Mex sunshine to the table, as mexican-inspired food is not quite as prevalent here as in the States. Here's me showing off. Steak Burrito dinner with all the trimmings: pico, rice, beans, guacamole, rocket salad.

Before

After

Mmmmmmm.

That's it for now, folks. Stay tuned for a report from Southwest Scotland in a couple of weeks. We're headed up to a little town called Dalbeattie. Road trip!