Bei uns im Dorf tut sich ja gar nichts von wegen Halloween, und im Kreisdorf ist immer nur das eine Haus geschmückt und vor dem Kindergarten steht ein Kürbis. Daher musste ich unbedingt Fotos von diesem Dorf machen, durch das wir heute fuhren, ca. 10 km weit weg von uns, das sich dieses Jahr total ins Zeug gelegt hat.
… In our village, it is very quiet at Halloween, and in the next larger village, only one house is usually decorated and in front of the daycare they have a pumpkin. Therefore, I had to take photos of this village, through which we came today, about 6 miles from us, which this year really went the extra mile.
Die Deutsche Version findet ihr HIER (zusammen mit Teil 5).
Part 6, Fort William-Alltsaigh (Loch Ness)-Inverness-Elgin
July 15, 1973 (Sunday !!!)
We try to get away from Fort William in glorious sunshine. After a long, patient wait, and after me trying again to stop a police car, two guys from Glasgow take us to Spean Bridge. (I am short-sighted, but vain. That is why I have already tried to stop an ambulance, a garbage truck and other vehicles over the past few days, and Susi has begged me to please put on my glasses.) Their babbling is almost incomprehensible; Glaswegian is really terrible and only distantly related to English.
Spean Bridge seems like a hitchhiker’s paradise. In any case, the four already existing can hardly part with this place. Susi and I shoulder our luggage and move 50 meters further to a parking lot full of cars. But of course we forgot that it is Sunday. Nobody has room for us because everyone has their cars full of worthless junk. [Ahem]
So we wait for an hour, two hours, three hours (one hitchhiker couple gives up and takes the next bus), four hours. One of the rest of the hitchhikers comes over to us. He is Scottish from Glasgow and has school holidays. We stand with him for the fifth hour. I have a lively conversation with him, but only understand a fraction of what he is saying. He is very nice and kind. After every second word he says ’you know’. He tells us endless stories about some American, but unfortunately I don’t understand what it’s about. Maybe that it is about an American is already misunderstood. We only understand one thing: last night he slept outside, somewhere near a church, and it rained terribly. „I have to talk a terrible slang if you don’t understand me!“ he says sadly. His luggage consists of a fishing rod and a pouch that looks as good as empty after he takes a newspaper from it. „I’m trying to get to Skye to fish, you know!“ We wish him the best of luck. Of course he gets away before us, alone and with the mini-luggage he is carrying.
We have to put up with some gleeful looks and silly remarks from motorists who stop at Spean Bridge to eat, facing a soldier memorial. The very active make a pilgrimage the 50 meters from the parking lot to the memorial and let themselves be photographed there. One should also have a good view of Ben Nevis from there, but we can’t find out which of the many mountains it is. None of the people we ask, seem to know it.
We can see many, many tourist buses. Let us take a closer loot at two of them. In one of them the explanations are given in English and German. That catches our attention. And there they come, the tourists with their empty stare that they attach to two poor, desperate hitchhikers and only allow themselves to be distracted by the presence of the monument.
Then another bus, full of Scots: An elderly man explains to us that today is a bad day for hitchhiking, because it is Sunday, but that someone will pick us up and „good luck“. A young man with speech impairments stands next to me. He points to every newly arriving car, certain that it will stop and pick us up, bitterly disappointed that it isn’t happening.
In the end, an English couple takes us to Invergarry. On the road we see our angler from Glasgow, who is sticking his thumb out again.
In Invergarry we meet a real horde of hitchhikers, a French guy; 3 girls who have been here for 7 hours already; a couple and another boy. We flee the scene once again. We meet another couple on the country road. The girl’s name is Linda and she comes from Glasgow. Linda predicts a bus that will actually come. I can observe, why the Scottish matches are so powerfully built: you have to scratch them on the asphalt, not on the box! The weather is more beautiful than ever. But in spite of all that, we take the bus. Now it is enough with kicking our heals. For the first time we enjoy Scotland from the bus. We pass Fort Augustus, which looks very nice, and end up in the youth hostel in Invermoriston, which consists of a church, a shop, a hotel, a gas station that also functions as a post office and then the youth hostel called Alltsaigh. The latter is very nicely located, right on Loch Ness with a pebble beach. The water washes ashore close to the house. Unfortunately it is a ’simple’ class hostel, which means that there isn’t any hot water for showering.
But even worse: 75% of the hikers are Germans, and what kind of them! One huge group, five boys, 3 girls and a group leader couple. (That’s a really large group for a small youth hostel.) The group mum requisitions all the cookers with her potato pancakes, which get cold afterwards because nobody comes to eat them. She snatches cutlery from an Englishman with the words “everything private, everything private”.
Then there is a married couple with a child who is really naughty and impertinent and who irritates the other people. Next to us are two German boys, who do nothing but complain about anything and everything. Gosh, I’m shirty. [Who is complaining???] I withdraw to the Loch. There are another three Germans sitting there, a forever smooching couple and the girl’s friend. I am taking to the bushes. You can walk along the gravel strip along the Loch to the bridge. Later Susi and I lay down on the gravel in the sun and dream. In the evening the people from Bonn who we have already met in London arrive, and two more girls who have been to the Orkneys.
July 16, 1973 (Monday)
On Monday Susi and I hike to Invermoriston to go shopping again. On the way we meet an old man whom we saw the day before. He seems to be hiking through Scotland, only with a small bag as luggage. We first buy apple jelly and rolls, then take a look at the Royal Church of Scotland and then go to the hotel for tea. We order two sandwich packages (= 4 triangles) each. „You must be very hungry,“ comments the waitress. After this extensive meal, we decide to move a little. The first stop is on a bridge. And I don’t have my camera with me, what a bummer! A little further there is a cottage settlement for tourists. Let’s get away! Susi would like to visit the old Invermoriston cemetery. At the petrol station we ask for a path through the forest, because it is a very beautiful forest: two meters of steep rock above the road, spruce forest above. The gas station attendant speaks German, but there is no path. It’s a shame, because without a path, even a tiny one, I don’t know, it’s too easy to get lost in Scotland. [You don’t say …]
From the cottage settlement I see houses on the mountain. What a life: a lot of forest, a lot of mountains, a house, but no paths! Give me such a life!
On the way back we walk around the bushes on the right, then up the mountain to the left. We are sitting two meters above the street, and we get a little dizzy. I have the opportunity to observe that the Scottish flies are just as slow as the Swedish ones; that must be due to the humidity.
The German invasion awaits us again in the hostel. Susi and I are both a little melancholic. We decide to take the bus to Inverness the next day so that we can arrive early enough to drop off our luggage. At eleven o’clock two German girls come into our room, one from Berlin and one from Dortmund. The one from Berlin is really getting on my nerves, especially when she starts to explain to us how one hitchhikes. Good night! – Then comes the bug panic: I have two small black dots on my upper body that turn out to be solid, hard-armored insects (ticks). I probably caught them on the lumberjack meadow (right in the bushes) because they sit on my stomach (I’m not wearing an undershirt) and on my leg, exactly in the spot where my pants are torn.
July 17, 1973 (Tuesday)
The road to Inverness is beautiful. One meets many strange looking Scottish names, like for example Drumnadrochit. Inverness welcomes us with a gray haze and drizzle. My first impression is: old and tight and romantic; and that it is. Only the bridges over the river are new. Flower pots hang on every lamp post and at the gas stations. On the main road, traffic police fight with cars and swarms of pedestrians. The Castle looks relatively new. From there I shoot a nice picture onto some old houses. [Strangely enough, the sun must have shone at that moment, although I can’t remember it.] At the youth hostel we put our luggage in a storage room and try to discover Inverness. Unfortunately it is covered with tourists, we cannot find it. We go to the museum, where I see books with Gaelic ghost stories for the first time. Later I try to get the books in paperback, but outside the museum not even the author (Sorche Nic Leodhas) is known.
When we get back to the youth hostel at two o’clock, we catch our breath. The entire forecourt is overcrowded with young people, like at an open-air festival. Once again we flee the scene and decide to hitchhike on to Elgin, the next stop on our journey. Well, this gives us the opportunity to get to know Inverness in more detail and with the backpacks on our backs. At the first roundabout outside the city, at a gas station, we set ourselves up and, as a precaution, we go to the Ladies‘ again. I stand waiting at the exit, Susi is not back yet when a dark blue station wagon stops to pick us up. The best part: that philanthropist lives in Elgin!
We get into his adventure car, which is mainly loaded with newspapers and empty and full lemonade bottles. The driver turns out to be an expert in hitchhiking! When he was still young, he hitchhiked all over Europe and Australia, with no luggage except what he was carrying on his body and a small bag for soap and food. This seems to be a specifically Scottish way of traveling. He is the third of this kind we’ve met, first the Glasgow angler, then the old wanderer, and now he. He recommends that we eat only once a day, because that is better for the stomach. And then we have way too much luggage with us in his opinion: “You carry too much stuff around with you. You spoil your vacation. You’re killing yourselves! “ – He is very concerned about us and gives us other good advice: „Buy cheap and then THROW it away!“ – We also learn that as a girl you shouldn’t hitchhike in Italy, France and Australia, while it is safe everywhere else, especially in Scotland. „In Scotland it’s perfectly safe even for one girl alone.“ – He describes the area around London as dubious. „Too many tourists.“ – For him, however, the English are also tourists, at least on Scottish soil. “And I don’t pick up long-haired boys. The long-haired ones are drunkards! “ – We can’t convince him that there are decent long-haired guys too. When we drive into Elgin he shows us his house that he had built himself and then he even drives us to the youth hostel.
The Warden almost gets a heart attack when we say we want to stay two nights. „Nobody stays in Elgin more than one night!“ – Yes, we do. We have decided to go to the coast for one day because Susi longs for the sea. We’ll do that the next day, but first we get a shock. My tote bag is gone, and with it Susi’s camera and my new shoes from Inverness. Left in the car, that’s how it was. „Lucky the Mac showed us his house.“ – So we make our way to our benefactor and get the opportunity to look at New Elgin. We pass a horde of young construction workers who immediately start yelling: „Hello, girls, give me a smile, just a smile!“ – „Come here, I’m a very nice boy!“ – They still call when they can no longer see us.
Unfortunately, nobody is home when we arrive, although all doors are open. So we sit on the garden wall and wait patiently. After ten minutes he is already driving up with his son. „The Warden must know me, he showed you the way.“ – But not really; he showed us his house himself. The warden never saw him. But we don’t tell him that, why should we?
Then we go back, a bag richer and, out of relief, eat an apple first. „Birgit, if we pass there again now and all of a sudden have a bag!“ And right, loud laughter from the construction site. „You must be very hungry!“ – Somehow we always give the impression to Scots of being very hungry.
When we get back to the youth hostel, we first get something to eat. The Warden crouches in his glass cubby hole from morning to evening, playing his guitar. Four girls from some religious community and two others from a large family are also sleeping in our room. When they see us washing ourselves „scantily clad“, they have gabbing material for half the night. The other half is filled with conversations about boys. Obviously, they haven’t noticed that we understand English. They wash themselves in turtlenecks and change under their maxi nightgowns. Well, everyone in their own way.
Ich war ziemlich sicher, dass ich euch dieses Dorf schon einmal vorgestellt habe, aber das scheint nicht der Fall zu sein, ich kann nichts dazu auf meinem Blog finden.
… I was convinced that I had presented this village to you already, but it seems like I didn’t, I can’t find anything on my blog.
Diesen Bericht werde ich in zwei Teile teilen, denn da sind so viele Bilder, die ich selber recht interessant finde 😉 und dann möchte ich ja auch ein bisschen was dazu erzählen. Teil 1 wird die Wohnhäuser umfassen, einschliesslich Gemeinschaftshaus und Palisadenburg des „Häuptlings“ und Teil 2 einige Werkstätten, Holzarbeiten, Asen-Platz und Tingstätte.
… I will have to divide this post into two parts, as there are so many pictures, which I myself find rather interesting 😉 , and then I would like to comment a bit as well. Part 1 will comprise the private houses, including the community house and the palisade enclosure with the chieftain’s house; part 2 will show some of the workshops, wood work, Aesir place and ting hill.
Alsoooo, in Tornby an der Westküste, zwischen Lønstrup und Hirtshals, gibt es ein richtiges Vikingerdorf. Es fing als Privatinitiative für junge Leute mit Problemen und historisch Interessierte an. Jetzt ist es inzwischen ein Verein, und man veranstaltet Spiele für Schulklassen und organisiert historische Treffen/Spiele. Ich hatte vorher noch auf der Webseite des Dorfes nachgeschaut, ob da irgendwelche Veranstaltungen an dem Tag waren, an dem wir mit unserem Besuch dorthin wollten. Um 10.00 Uhr morgens war etwas mit Schulklassen, aber das würde um drei Uhr doch sicher vorbei sein oder? War es nicht. Das Rollenspiel oder was es war, war noch voll im Gang, aber der Leiter der Spiele, ein weisshaariger Viking mit Namen Claus, erlaubte uns trotzdem, uns umzuschauen. Wir gingen diskret zu Werke und haben, glaube ich, niemanden gestört.
… Soooo, in Tornby, a village at the west coast, between Lønstrup and Hirtshals, there is a real viking village. It started as a private initiative for young people with problems and the historically interested. In the meantime it is a club, and they organize games for school classes and historical meetings/games. Before we went there with our visitors, I looked into the calendar on their website, if any activities were going on there. At 10 a.m. they had games for a school, but those would be over by 3 p.m., right? There weren’t. The role play or cosplay was still very much going on. However, the game leader, a white haired viking called Claus, allowed us to walk around anyway. We were very discreet and I think we didn’t disturb anybody.
Alle Häuser werden von den Vereinsmitgliedern selber gebaut, und zwar nach guter alter Vikingermanier. Man kann verschiedene Stilarten sehen. Es gibt ausserdem ein Gemeinschaftshaus und eine Burg für den Häuptling, eine Schmiede, eine Keramikwerkstatt und und und. Die Fotos in diesem Beitrag sind von 2017 und 2020. Auf den älteren Fotos kann man sehr schön die Konstruktion der Häuser sehen. Die meisten sind ja jetzt fertig gebaut.
… All houses are being built by members themselves, and that with good old viking style. They have built different styles of houses. Furthermore, there is a long house and a castle for the chieftain, a smithy, a ceramics workshop, and, and, and. The photos in this post are from the years 2017 and 2020. On the older photos you can better see, how the houses are being constructed. Now most of them are finished.
Auch Leute, die nicht Mitglieder im Verein sind, dürfen in Yxengaard übernachten (am besten vorher mit Claus sprechen) oder sich dort tagsüber aufhalten und Vikinger spielen, aber gerne nur, wenn nicht andere Veranstaltungen im Gange sind. Ausserdem bittet man die Gäste, ihren Müll wieder mitzunehmen und alle Dinge ordentlich zu behandeln. Auch geringfügige Spenden an den Verein werden nicht verschmäht. 😉 (Sind aber kein Muss.) Die Teilnahme an organisierten Wikingerveranstaltungen kostet Eintritt, denn man bekommt dann auch Verpflegung.
… Also people, who are not members of the club, may stay overnight at Yxengaard (best talk to Claus about it) or be there during the day and play viking, but only, if no other activities are on. They kindly request their guests to take their garbage with them when leaving and to treat everything with respect. Minor donations to the club would not be refused. 😉 (No obligation though.) For the participation in organized viking happenings, they take an entrance fee, as one gets fed on these occasions as well.
Wenn ihr mal in die Nähe kommt, lasst euch das nicht entgehen … nachstehend noch eine Karte, damit ihr es findet. (Ich werd nicht wieder, die sind jetzt bei Google vertreten! 2019 war das noch nicht der Fall.) Und wenn ihr schon dort seid, schaut doch auch gleich beim alten Landhandel vorbei (den gamle købmandsgård), wo es viele leckere und anderweitig schöne Sachen gibt. Ein Café hat man dort auch und in der Scheune dahinter ein anschauliches Modell vom Handel zwischen Dänemark und Norwegen.
… If you should ever pass by there, don’t miss out on this … below please find a map, so that you will find it. (Surprise, surprise, they are mentioned on Google map! 2019 they weren’t.) And if you are there anyway, why not drop in at the old village shop (den gamle købmandsgård), where they sell many delicious and otherwise nice things. They also have a café and in the barn behind it a showcase with scenes of the sea trade between Denmark and Norway.
Heute habe ich einmal einen Text aus dem „Evangelium des vollkommenen Lebens“ (auch „Evangelium der Heiligen Zwölf“) ausgewählt. Dieses Evangelium wurde 1881 von G. J. Ouseley niedergeschrieben. Er schreibt dazu in seinem Vorwort: „Dieses Urevangelium wird in einem der buddhistischen Klöster in Tibet aufbewahrt, wo es von einem aus der Gemeinschaft der Essener verborgen wurde, um es vor den Händen der Fälscher in Sicherheit zu bringen. Es ist nun zum ersten Male aus dem aramäischen Texte übersetzt.“
… Today I have chosen a text from the „Gospel of perfect life“ or „Gospel of the Holy Twelve“. This gospel has been written down by G. J. Ouseley in 1881 (this was in English, however, in the German edition they do not mention the English title, so I am guessing). He says the following in his preface: „This original gospel is being kept in one of the Buddhist monasteries in Tibet, where it was hidden by one of the Essenes in order to keep it safe from the hands of the forgers. It has now been translated for the first time from the Aramaic text.“
9. Und einige aus dem Volke sprachen: „Dieser Mann sorget für alle Tiere. Sind sie seine Brüder und Schwestern, dass er sie so liebt?“ Und er sprach zu ihnen: „Wahrlich, diese sind eure Mitbrüder aus dem grossen Haushalte Gottes, eure Brüder und Schwestern, welche denselben Atem des Lebens von dem Ewigen haben.
10. Und wer immer für die kleinsten von ihnen sorgt und ihnen Speise und Trank gibt als sie nötig haben, der tuet dieses mir, und wer es duldet, dass sie Hunger leiden, und sie nicht schützet, wenn sie misshandelt werden, erleidet dieses übel, als ob er es mir zugefügt hätte. Denn ebenso wie ihr in diesem Leben getan habt, so wird euch im kommenden Leben getan werden.“
… 9. And some of the people said: „This man cares for all animals. Are they his brothers and sisters that he loves them so much?“ And he said to them: “Truly, these are your fellow brothers from the great household of God, your brothers and sisters, who have the same breath of life from the Eternal.
10. And whoever cares for the smallest of them and gives them food and drink as they need, does this to me, and whoever tolerates them to suffer from hunger and does not protect them when they are mistreated suffers this evil as if he did it to me. For just as you have done in this life, so will it be done to you in the life to come „.
Da ist es wieder, das Karmagesetz, Ursache und Wirkung …
… There it is again, the law of karma, cause and effect …
Die Deutsche Version findet ihr HIER (zusammen mit Teil 6, ich habe daraus wieder zwei Teile gemacht).
PART 5, Kinlochard-Aberfoyle-Trossachs-Loch Achrey- Loch Venachar-Callander-Fort William
July 12, 1973 (Thursday)
The next day everything develops very quickly. A Scot takes us to Aberfoyle. On the way we overtake the two young Scots from the youth hostel (the shy ones) who had left earlier than us [walking].
The road that leads from there to the Trossachs, a national park and our next destination, is once again very steep, of course upwards. The sign telling us that we are entering the Queen’s private property gives us no relief. Just as we finally get to the top of the hill, an English couple stops to take us with them. Various rearrangements are necessary. Puppy sits on the lap and off we go. The man had been stationed in the Orkney Islands for six years during the war. He had vowed never to return to Scotland. Now he’s here after all and regrets not having returned sooner.
They drop us off at 9.30 a.m. at the Trossachs Youth Hostel. There we meet two Englishmen from Loch Ard who are just amazed at how quickly we got over from there. „You broke the record!“ says one. Since we are so well on time, we decide to walk to Loch Katrine [pronounced: Katreen with stress on the second syllable]. I have romantic expectations, think of ’The Lady of the Lake’ and the like. But strange things await us there: First a huge parking lot, littered with cars; Susi and I look at each other: What’s going on here? Folk festival? But then we understand: a tourist attraction. Loch Kathrine is now the water supply for Glasgow, so the whole once beautiful Lake has been neatly fenced in and surrounded by an asphalt road.* On it, the tourist hords amble to the stone that announces that Princess Margaret has done something meritorious, remain in holy silence for a moment and then go back to either eat in the restaurant or to buy souvenirs.
I’m completely upset, and then there are so many Germans here. We didn’t come to Scotland to meet Germans! [*This is actually not true, we were just so unlucky to get to this tourist arrangement, which is only a tiny, tiny part of Loch Katrine. Look here for more about that beautiful lake.]
Susi and I flee from the scene and walk to one lake further on, Loch Achray, the name is difficult to pronounce, but it’s beautiful here. It is only a very small Loch, and of course there is no tourist to be seen far and wide apart from us. We sit on a bench in front of an old church and enjoy the surroundings.
After a while we continue along the lake and finally end up in a place called Brig o’Turk. There we sit down in the tearoom because it is starting to rain. First we modestly order tea and sandwiches. But after writing five postcards, it is still raining. So we also order a high tea and indulge in victuals: first something warm with eggs and french fries and then cakes and more sandwiches, the little triangular ones. All in all a nice, peaceful day. You can’t say that about tomorrow, but tomorrow is Friday the thirteenth.
July 13, 1973 (Friday)
The next morning we walk on the country road, singing along. Loch Venachar is beautiful and so is the weather. A Frenchman takes us to Callander, not very far, but better than walking. After all, we have to walk for a while until we discover an ideal new hitch-hiking spot, a parking lot. Strangely enough, there are two Scots dressed in kilts and with bagpipes, playing ’Amazing Grace’ all alone in the landscape. We say „good morning“ politely and stand a few meters away from them. But oh shock in the morning hour: three buses are approaching, stopping across from the parking lot, and three busloads of excited Englishmen pour their way onto the street with their cameras drawn and block the traffic, which doesn’t seem to bother them. We are surrounded in no time. But of course the real interest is in the two Scots. We grab our luggage and flee to the other corner of the parking lot. When the horde turns back to the buses, Susi and I get some curious looks: Two real hitchhikers in the wild! Then the spook, which only lasted about three minutes, is over.
Then two Scots pick us up. At first they seem a little suspicious to us, but they turn out to be very nice. We tell them about the incident with the buses. Their comment: „They’re crazy, the English!“ And they inform us in a contemptuous tone that the bagpipers were beggars. They take us to Strathyre, from where we can drive with an old camper to the Killin-Crianlarich intersection. He’s trying hard to get us to come to Killin where it is so beautiful! But we have a schedule and we cannot afford too many detours or delays. From the intersection we come with two more Scots to Crianlarich and from there again with a Scot all the way to the Oban-Fort William intersection. After a long wait, an English photographer finally takes us to Fort William. There we are immediately surrounded by the wild throng of civilization. But first of all we need sandwiches! We then have to walk almost two miles to the youth hostel. That is a piece of cake for us now, but it’s raining pretty disgustingly. The youth hostel is located in the middle of a gorge, surrounded by impressive mountains. The clouds are almost hanging on the ground and it is accordingly extra humid. It’s nice there, but unusually noisy. It’s a big hostel. The crowd is getting on my nerves a bit after a week of country life.
The clientele is very international, Switzerland, Finland, France, Italy, Japan, Denmark and a very strong German delegation. The rain forces some campers into the youth hostel. We meet two guys from Hamburg, who suddenly found themselves with their tent in the middle of a mountain creek. The water rose so quickly that not even everyone could save their tents. While we are having dinner we hear a helicopter. We also meet old acquaintances again. On the one hand the German Englishman from Loch Ard, the one with the terrible accent, and a couple we already met in the Trossachs. She is Scottish and he is Danish. The two met in Vienna and speak Austrian German with their respective accents. That sounds very charming. The Dane tries to flirt up with us. He seems tired of his Scottish girlfriend. It’s a shame, because she’s really nice, and, of course, we don’t respond to it. Stupid guy. The two from Hamburg also notice it and look surprised.
July 14, 1973 (Saturday)
The next morning we hear that an accident has happened in Glen Nevis, hence the helicopter. Someone didn’t get off as lightly as the two guys from Hamburg.
We spend the day in Fort William and the surrounding area. Fort William itself is very touristy. Souvenir shops, tartan shops and tearooms alternate. Of course, everyone wants to look into the shop windows, which annoys some locals, because here is left hand traffic, obviously also for pedestrians (a lady to her husband: did we switch to right?). I don’t remember what we actually did there. We probably ate sandwiches 😉 … In any case, we didn’t go to the mountains, the highest peak of which is Ben Nevis, the highest not only in Scotland but also in Great Britain. I guess the experience on Ben Lomond was enough for years to come. [We also got some snarky remarks about our footwear everywhwere we went. Real mountaineers have real hiking boots, blah, blah, blah … 😉 😀 … „I would leave everything else at home, but bring my boots“ nyanyanyanyanya … „The Scottish hills are treacherous“, you get the picture.]
Maybe just a short word explanation: Loch = Lake, but also a fiord (Loch Linnhe) or even a bay (Campbelltown Loch) can be named „Loch“ Ben = mountain/summit of a mountain Glen = Valley or gorge Aber and Inver = water mouth (e.g. Aberdeen, where the river Dee flows into the North Sea; Inverness, where the river Ness flows into the Beauly Firth. I don’t know how it is with Aberfoyle (Aberfoil in old times), I have not discovered a river Foyle or Foil flowing into the river Forth.)
Ganz zum Schluss noch zwei Karten, damit ihr sehen könnt, wo das Ganze vor sich ging:
Jetzt kommt mal wieder etwas Essbares, leicht und relativ schnell zu produzieren, mit viel Geschmack und Textur und über alle Massen lecker.
… Today I will present something edible again, easy and relatively quickly to prepare, with a lot of taste and texture and over all delicious.
Es handelt sich hierbei um den Kräutersalat von Khashayar Parsi, den wir nun schon diverse Male zubereitet haben. Er benutzt unter anderem Lavash Brot im Salat, das wir bei uns nicht bekommen. Gute Alternativen sind zerstückeltes Knäckebrot oder die knusprigen Mini-Bruschetta, die ich dann auch noch einmal etwas zerkleinere. Das eine mal haben wir Grissini benutzt (siehe Bild ganz unten), aber das war zu viel Brotanteil im Salat, die haben wir fast alle wieder herausgeklaubt. Nichts gegen Grissini, nur eben nicht in diesem Salat. Ich bekomme meistens Korianderblätter nicht und der Basilikum ist oft von schlechter Qualität. In so einem Fall nehme ich einfach die doppelte Menge von einem oder mehreren der anderen Kräuter.
… I am talking about Khashayar Parsi’s herb salat, which we have prepared several times already. He uses Lavash bread in the salad, which we cannot get where I live. Good alternatives are broken Swedish crispbread or crunchy miniature bruschetta, which I break into smaller pieces. One time we used Grissini (see last photo), but that was too much bread in the salad, and we picked most of them out again. Nothing against Grissini, just not in this salat. Most of the time I cannot get coriander leaves here, and the basil often is of bad quality. In such cases I just take the double amount of one or more of the other herbs. My anglophone readers will find the English version of the recipe HERE.
ZUTATEN: Dressing: 1/2 Tasse Olivenöl (extra virgin) 1 kleine Limone (Saft und Schale wenn ökologisch) 1 Teelöffel Zimt 1 Teelöffel Kreuzkümmel je 1 Teelöffel schwarzer Pfeffer und Cayennepfeffer
Nüsse: je 1 halbe Tasse Cashew, Mandeln und Walnüsse, geröstet und kleingehackt (nicht zu klein, also kein Mehl)
Kräuter: Je 1 Bund Basilikum (gerne Zitronen- oder Thai-), Schnittlauch, Dill, Petersilie, Estragon, Koriander (Cilantro).
Desweiteren: 1/2 mittelgrosse Zwiebel, gehackt 4 Knoblauchzehen (gehackt) 1,5 Tassen Weintrauben (ich habe die halbiert) 450 g Lavash Brot oder knusprige Alternative (ich nehme allerdings nur die Hälfte) 225 g Feta
ZUBEREITUNG: Man mischt das Dressing, die Zwiebel kann man auch schon mal mit hineintun, und dann werden alle anderen Zutaten zerkleinert/gehackt und hineingemischt. Es empfiehlt sich, nicht noch extra zu salzen, da der Feta-Käse sehr salzig ist.
Fertig und absolut lecker! Nachfolgend ein paar Bilder von unserem vorletzten Versuch. An dem Tag hatte ich nur eine halbe Portion gemacht, das war ein Fehler!
Diese Bilder hatte ich total vergessen. Ich mag ja alte Fahrzeuge, und diese gehören ja gewissermassen auch zu den Oldtimern … 😉
… I had totally forgotten about these photos. As you know, I like old vehicles, and these belong somehow among the veteran „cars“ … 😉
Ansonsten war dort nicht so viel, was uns interessierte, aber diesen grossen Spiegel haben wir ergattert für 220 Kronen (29,50 Euro für geschliffenes Glas). Da ich das für billig hielt, dachte ich, dass der Rahmen wohl aus bemaltem Plastik ist, aber nein, das ist ein Holzrahmen. Die Dame, die dort Geld einkassierte schaute auch etwas verwundert auf das Preisschild, aber wir haben uns nicht beklagt. 😉 Er macht sich doch gut in unserem Eingang.
… Apart from that, there wasn’t much that caught our interest, but we grabbed this large mirror for 220 crowns (36.66 USD for honed glass). As I found that cheap, I thought that the frame must be made of plastic and painted over, but no, it is a wooden frame. The lady who cashed the money looked a bit surprised at the price tag, but we did not complain. 😉 Does it not look fine in our entré?
Heute ein – in meinen Augen – wirklich guter animierter Film. Die Bewegungen sind so gut studiert. Gefunden bei: MSAMBA – The Manchester School of Samba“, wo man viel Verschiedenes über Musik findet, aber auch Kunst im weiteren Sinne, Wissenschaft, Umwelt und mehr. Ich hoffe es verursacht ein paar Lächler.
… Today I have for you a really well made animated video (in my opinion). The movements are so well studied. Found at: MSAMBA – The Manchester School of Samba, where one can find diverse material about music, but also other art, science, environment and more. I hope this causes a few smiles.
Willkommen auf dem Bikini Atoll, meinem Testgebiet für Schreibübungen, Buchstabentänze und Wortgemälde. Warum das Ganze? Damit ich nicht nur für mich selber schreibe, sondern vielleicht auch jemandem eine kleine Freude mache. (unkorrigierte Basisfassungen, ich habe leider keinen Lektor)