It's a massive bummer, but I missed my train to Bucharest. I don't know how it happened; I got to the platform early and asked a railway worker if it was the right train. The number was wrong, and she said it wasn't the one, but when the right one never showed up, I went to the ticket office and got the runaround.
Now I'm gonna be crawling through four hours of Sunday traffic jams, and I can't even stay here in Brașov, because my hotel is already booked.
All I can do now is sit hunched over into a pretzel in this narrow seat and continue my series about Scotland.
In my last post, I promised to explain why the Forth railway bridge is so intricate.
The thing is, the bridge was originally designed by the engineer Thomas Bouch. However, it turned out that right before the project was implemented, another bridge by this engineer collapsed due to a severe storm. A train happened to be crossing the bridge right at that moment, and 75 people died. Spooked by this, the authorities scrapped the suspension bridge project, and switched to a cantilever one designed by other engineers. With some creaking due to funding delays, the bridge was nonetheless built, and with heavily over-engineered load tolerances at that. Hence the sheer number of all sorts of ribs visible in the photo. The bridge is made of steel, which they had just figured out how to make better at the time. The year was 1885. Now the bridge is on the UNESCO World Heritage list. When it was first erected, much like the Eiffel Tower, it was a prime target for mockery and criticism over its looks. Whether people just get used to everything, or beauty standards change. Or whether they just build things even uglier nowadays, go figure. I like the bridge, and I doubt many people today would say there's anything unpleasant about it.
As for the new bridge, finished only in 2014, it's also unique in its own way. The construction budget was around two billion pounds, but they spent three times less. I don't know if there are even any similar cases in the history of construction. As far as I know from the stories of people involved, usually everything gets embezzled, kickbacked, and delayed even worse than in IT.
The next stop, where I popped into a pharmacy — is the little town of Dunkeld.
It's an interesting feeling when everything around you is in a language you understand well. I haven't been to Russia in a really long time, and have completely forgotten it. It's alright in Latvia too, but considering it's my home country, it's still not the same. And here it feels like a foreign country, but all the text is comprehensible. The signs, announcements and receipts, brochures, and the chatter of passersby too. Add the mandatory British politeness to this, and the atmosphere becomes very comfortable for me personally. It feels very safe, like nobody's going to cheat you, swindle you, or rob you. That's not entirely true, of course. Still, in Romania — there's a stark contrast, and you have to keep your eyes peeled.
Another interesting aspect of Scotland — is the vegetation. For some reason, I imagined it being rockier here, since it's cold. I didn't think at all about the fact that because of the warm Gulf Stream current, it rarely drops below zero here in the winter. This is very important for plants, because they don't have to expend as much energy in the spring. As a result, Scotland has an incredibly dense carpet of trees and bushes. It's like a jungle, only made of temperate zone plants. It looks very pleasant and lush, makes you just want to chew on it. Along with the mountains and the cool summers, this kind of environment would personally be perfect for me to live in, if it weren't for the eternal rains. I got incredibly lucky and almost entirely missed them, but I fully believe that normally it's a biblical flood here, and unpredictable downpours mixed with sunshine.
The next stop was the town of Pitlochry, with a quite picturesque dam and a power station. We were there for probably an hour and a half, so there was time to walk around. Despite my injury, I dragged myself along the long route with two pedestrian bridges and stairs, which for now have turned into a real ordeal for me. My nature and temperament won't let me live in peace, but are always demanding more and further. I managed to hobble the entire loop. I came back via a path in the park, surprisingly empty, even though further on, in the center, everything was packed with tourists. By chance, I spotted a Co-Op, meaning a cooperative. I spent a long time trying to figure out if it was a local one or some kind of chain. Or a chain of cooperatives?
The prices at the Co-Op are inhumane, but hey, it's so eco-friendly and ethical!
I stocked up on the traditional grub of a vegetarian who is too lazy to think and has no time: bread and cheese. They make a lot of cheeses in the UK, but the most classic is probably cheddar. I don't remember anymore if that's what I bought or not, but it was aged for over a year, and with reduced fat content. Back home, reduced-fat cheese for gym bros tastes like a boot sole with a faint aroma of cheese. Here, however, it was a divinely creamy, aged cheese with a strong aroma and taste.
In rich countries, there's room for luxury and whims, you can't deny that. For example, in Scotland, there's a huge selection of protein bars. They are relevant to me as a flexitarian gym bro, so I don't lose muscle when cutting. Curiously, in Romania, buying a protein bar outside of huge supermarkets is completely impossible. And even in them, the selection is tiny, and the quality is atrocious.
