Could be a looooong weekend

Well, well, well. We have arrived in Scotland, our destination being the city of Aberdeen. Far north, on the east coast of Scotland, a port city. Actually, our primary goal here is to visit Drum Castle, where my ancestor William de Irwyn (armor bearer and secretary of Robert the Bruce). It's about a half hour drive from here. We'll visit there on Sunday.

We arrived yesterday evening, and I was all eagerness and anticipation. We meant to do this trip back in 2002, when we were in London for a year, but it just didn't happen. So here we come, finally, to the Mother Country!

I can't wait to get out of here.

Specifically, I can't wait to get out of Aberdeen. Curious, because it has been named one of the 3 happiest places to live in the UK. I'm sorry, but someone got that terribly wrong. I have never visited a place that had such a visceral, negative effect on me. I have been here less than 24 hours and I feel this weird internal desperation. It is, visually, one the most depressing places I've ever visited. This is largely due to the fact that every building - almost to a one - is built out of granite. Dull, grey, plain granite. It's as if the Faerie of Despond took her wand, waved it over this city, and turned everything to concrete. It is unrelenting, unremitting drab grey stone wherever you look, with a severity to detail and lack of ornament that exacerbates the effect.

The above two buildings are quite lovely, but it is part of what makes the whole place seem under some kind of curse. Everything is made from this stone, and so the effect is that of a spell that has everything petrified. I am waiting for the curse to be broken, to see color flood this city like the flush coming back to Lazarus' cheeks. Don't think it's gonna happen while we're here.

Since it is a port city, right on the water, there are gulls everywhere. Normally, in a shore town, their cries are somehow lovely and just emphasize the delicious reality that you're in a wonderful, beach-y place. Here, their cries sound mournful, and add to the de Chirico-like effect of this place. The people here are nice enough. I just don't know how they can stand to live here. A good friend of mine has said that there aren't antidepressants strong enough for her to live in a small English town. I would paraphrase that sentiment for Aberdeen. It also explains to me why Scotch whiskey is so popular here.

We will visit a castle ruin tomorrow, 15 miles south of here, and that should be interesting. Drum Castle on Sunday. But Monday morning can't come soon enough.

On a positive note, I met a great service dog today named Harriet . . . and Greg has been a steady source of low-key cheer.