There Ain't No Devil, It's Just God When He's Drunk

Like the rest of the world, Britain seems to be throwing itself behind the idea of eco-friendly, earth saving initiatives, like using cloth tote bags and energy efficient light bulbs. But they are still not quite sure what recycling means.

I remember when I was studying abroad here as a third year student, we were given three blue recycling bins in addition to our trash can. Good first step- learning to separate trash and recyclables. However, only the trash was ever removed from our university dorm, meaning that in order to recycle any of our stuff, we would have to do it ourselves. This wasn't so much of a problem because lucky enough for us, there was a recycling station only a block away. And by recycling station, I mean a series of large bins delineated for clear glass, green glass, brown glass, paper, and clothes. The British (or at least the Scots) still haven't discovered that Aluminium and certain plastics are also recyclable.

Anyway, after uni, me and Scottie moved to the Tollcross, where I'm sure the closest recycling centre is still way the hell up in Marchmont, a good hike away when you're loaded down with countless glass bottles. Since Scottie and I don't really drink alcohol a lot in our flat, we didn't really have to deal with recycling anything, although it killed my a little bit and made my soul cry to toss the odd glass jar or coke can away.

When I came back to do a Masters, I was in disbelief. This time around, I was shocked to see a lot of recycle bins in the back next to where we have our trash bins. It was amazing! Even though our only recycle options were paper and glass, it was still better than nothing, and I made sure to have everything sorted. I think I even increased wine consumption with the joy of knowing that Mother Gaia was smiling at my recycling efforts.

Then I came back to the UK after my victorious battle against idiots at the LA British Consulate. After celebrating wit copious amounts of wine, I went to deposit the bottles in the recycling. EXCEPT THEY WERE LOCKED. Out of 5 glass recycling bins, all of them were locked. Apparently one restaurant owns a key. No one knows who owns the others. And it's not like CA, where you can save up your recyclables and cash them in for moolah. Nope. You either recycle them or you don't. Since I didn't want to throw my bottles away, I stacked them on top of one of the locked recycling bins, in the hopes that someone would see how stupid it was to lock recycling bins.

So now, a select few get to feel all high and mighty and lord over the rest of us because they hold the fabled keys to keeping the earth clean, while the rest of us are forced to see the bins, but not use them. How, Scotland, can you espouse green living, when you don't even provide ways of recycling to residents who are so green (or poor) they don't even own a car?How can I get in the 'I have a key' club? And why don't you know that aluminium is recyclable!?!

And I'm back! After four days of being in a state of almost constant sleep deprivation, I finally back in Edinburgh with pictures aplenty. The day began for me at 5:40 am. After sleep-walking though my breakfast and getting ready, I kissed my boyfriend good bye and headed out the door to walk to the train station. Fortuitously for me, it was at that exact moment that a taxi pulled up and my travel companion opened the door, motioning me inside. I was well prepared for the walk in the morning to wake me up some more, but you don't turn down fate like that, so I jumped in- besides, she was paying.

We get down to the station and because of the quicker taxi ride, have half an hour to kill before our train arrives. However, I'm a bit wary, since our intended train would only give us a 9 minute layover at the station, and with British trains being what they are, I felt 9 minutes was cutting it close, so I convince my friend to get on the next train, giving us 20 mins. at Glasgow. We get to Glasgow, my friend goes off to buy her breakfast (Burger king chicken sandwich meal deal that filled the whole train car with the aroma when she tucks into it), and soon we are off.

The train ride from Glasgow to Oban is incredible. I always like taking trains because not only are they still a novelty to me, they are also more scenic, less cramped, and just all around more magical than the bus.This is what the day looked like as we made the 4 hour train journey to Oban. Along the way, we passed some lovely lochs, forested glens, and glistening green hills. We finally arrived in Oban at around 12:30. Everything relating Oban and the Isles is symbiotic, which makes everything work out very nicely when there are no delays. The train arrives in Oban 10 minutes before the Ferry leaves for Mull. The buses in Craignure, the ferry terminal 'village' wait for the ferry to arrive before leaving, and arrive at the ferry terminal 10 minutes before the ferry leaves.
The ferry ride over from Oban to Mull is just as lovely as the train ride, but much shorter (only 45 mins). However, the ferry snakes pasts many of the much smaller isles, and we were treated to beautiful images of lighthouses, fort ruins, and endless rising mountains shrouded in the clouds. Apparently the Sound of Mull is chockablock full of marine life, including 4 different kinds of porpoise, humpback whales, orcas, basking sharks, sea otters, and seals. They apparently were all on holiday because we never saw any.

We arrived in Craignure and immediately jumped on the bus to Tobermory, the so called 'Capital of Mull' because it has the largest population on the island (aprox.700). Tobermory is a very quaint little town that you can tell caters to the tourists. Either that or the people in Mull have a deep obsession with scented soap, because there were soap shops everywhere selling about 500 different kinds of soap, from lavender bars, to heather scented soap on a rope. They also had this amazing bakery that sold fresh bread for the same price as a store bought loaf, and had super delicious baked goods.The town is split between the main street, which is one long street of coloured buildings, and the residential area, which is up this massively steep hill and over looks the town. It is no wonder that even though everyone in the viliage seems to get their dinner from the Fish & Chip van and follow it up with a few pints at the pub, they still have amazingly tight butts and thighs- who needs a stairmaster when you have to haul yourself up 400 meters of a 45 degree hill? Besides burning calories, it also affords lovely views of the town below and the harbour.We stayed one night in Tobermory, then caught the 9:30 bus down to Craignure, where my friend had managed to find us accommodation. Which turned out to be tents. We were given a little tent with two cots in it, and had to pay £2 for bedding, which turned out to be a sheet, and 3 blankets...but more on this later. We were in a rush to catch the little train which went from Craignure to the 'castle' Torosay. I say 'castle' because it is really a stately home. Castles are built for defense, and this was definately built for beauty. The amazing thing about Torosay Castle is the freedom visitors are given to explore. You can open the books in the library, sit in all the chairs, and poke around in all the little nooks and crannies.
All of it was very stunning, and the gardens of the estate went on for acres and acres trying to mix in a variety of different styles. The major one, popular in the 18th century, was classicism, so Grecian columns and statues dominated grounds.

We were incredibly lucky and even though the forecast had predicted heavy rain for the entire week, it only really came down a few times. The day we visited Torosay was overcast, but nice, and we figured we would be adventurous and walk to the nearby Durart Castle. Durat castle is a 11th century castle built as one of the most defensive castles in the Isles. It is also still the currant residance of the Clan Chief of clan the MacLean, a nice old man who greeted visitors in the gallery.

Continue the fun in part two!