If we go back to the theory about misfortunes, then, perhaps, all things considered, I've already had my share of them on this journey. Of the latest — my phone charger has almost completely stopped working.
Either the connector got busted, or the cable tore. Individual tiny wires are sticking out of it, though it doesn't look like any of them are completely severed. Andrey said that his phone only charges with great difficulty, and in a specific position. He blames the USB-C connector type, which is less reliable than the classic micro.
My situation is very similar now. I can still force the device to charge, but doing it fast — no way. Even for medium speed I have to bend and press it in a tricky way, and the slightest vibration can ruin everything. Unfortunately, the cable is USB-C, and my second cable, a regular MicroUSB, didn't fit. I bit the bullet and finally bought an adapter, but lost it along with the regular cable in one of the hotels, so now I can't charge my e-reader or headphones either. In the future I'll try to pay more attention to the quality of accessories, and bring branded ones with me. This one has a logo that looks like the Russian Railways logo — a bad omen. I also have an idea, since things aren't working out with photography on a regular camera, to splurge and buy a smartphone with the best camera out there. That's for the future, though, because I totally squandered my entire vacation, didn't leave a single day.
At least I've now boarded a plane to Prague to finish off what's left of it. Although here too it wasn't without adventures, which I can't reveal, because they are — in the future.
In the space-time continuum of this blog, I, and you as well, are all still in Inverness. This city is the gateway to the Highlands. The thing is, Scotland is geographically divided into the Lowlands and the Highlands, and the inhabitants, customs, habits, and even the language of these regions differ noticeably. Inverness is right on the border, which isn't laid out horizontally, but rather along the fault line formed by the firths.
In the TV series Outlander, one of the reasons why I ended up in Scotland, the main character falls a century and a half back in time. Back then, in the 18th century, it was still a village, which she is initially surprised and upset by. Now it's a small city, full of tourists eager to get to Loch Ness and see the monster with their own eyes. I'm almost indifferent to the monster. However, I didn't want to ruin the romance, and when Stefan asked something along the lines of: «Kids, whoever sees and takes a pic of the monster gets a million,» we all yelled in unison «Meeeeee.»
The weather was in our favor, and despite the strong cold wind, sailing on the little ship was pleasant. The scenery around somewhat resembled the Norwegian fjords, but not as jagged. I chatted with Chi, a Malaysian girl who, as it turned out, was studying to be a doctor in Glasgow. I asked what surprises her the most culturally. It turned out to be the way the city dies out on Christmas. Everyone sits at home with their families, there's no one on the streets, if I understood her correctly.
Our destination was the castle, where we were lucky enough to catch a short talk about the kilt, the claymore, and warfare. I even got to hold a claymore in my hands; the storyteller, Mike, was kind, and pretended to pose for a photo, while briefly handing the sword to me. It's not very heavy, around 2-2.5 kg. A trained adult man can carry it around and wield it for quite a long time. From the talk, I liked the detail that a claymore is too long for a scabbard, and therefore it was carried on the back. In the movie «Braveheart,» Mel Gibson pulls the sword from behind his back with one hand. For a trick like that to work, your arm would have to be over two meters long. In reality, the sword was first taken off the baldric, and only then drawn from the scabbard. At least that's how I understood it.
After hanging out at the castle for a while, we piled into our trusty bus. I forgot to mention, the windows in it are huge, which is very convenient for checking out the magnificent landscapes. Rocky plateaus and hills, juicy-green grass, burgundy and purple rhododendrons, the unpretentious inhabitants of the slopes. They were just blooming around here at this time, where it's cooler.
And Stefan was showing us his favorite trees. One in particular stuck in my mind. He goes like: look, it's not very tall, and not very big, but it's like a true Scotsman. Why? Because it grows straight out of a rock!
Speaking of Scots, they are usually stocky. The teenage girls for some reason are always super thick blondes, often lesbians. This, of course, is connected to the fact that a week later, on Saturday, the Edinburgh Pride