No matter where I decide to plant ‘home’ for the purposes of this sentiment, this is the farthest from home I’ve ever been. (The keyboards are different, too; I’m not just adopting local typing parlance, though I am doing some of that, too.) It’s ten in the morning, and we’ve been roaming Kirwall for an hour or so. Lo, there’s an internet cafe, and the second instance of reliable internet access on my whole trip. I’ve written a bit already, but will write much more when I get back.
The ferry from Aberdeen was sickening, truly. The ship itself was wonderfully appointed, but the North Sea is a beautiful hellion (helliatrix?). Sara and I both were in awful straights. Truly, I think it was the most awful I have ever felt, though crippling ear infections are a run for the money. I was utterly worthless, sprawled out on the deck like a true Midwestern lubber. Today we’ve got, for all purposes, hangovers.
Still, Orkney is beautiful. Today we’re off to Skara Brae and Maeshowe, among others, for the finest in Stone-Age and Viking history. So excited. More when there’s time; all this is racking up the £’s.
The first song we’ve heard on the Mainland island (as the largest island in Orkney is called) is “Particle Man,” by They Might Be Giants. Savour that.
Noise: Scottish accents.