Islay and jura days 2-5

2 nights in gorgeous an cladach bothy. Fires both nights. And on a walk over to see the lighthouse saw a sea eagle. Thought the day had peaked, and then 5 minutes later sea eagle returned, again directly overhead, but this time a peregrine falcon, presumably nesting nearby, attacked it and we had incredible aerial gymnastics from them both! Sea eagle at least 4 times the size, spun in the air several times to evade the mismatched peregrine, except the latter obvs had more to lose and successfully drove off the eagle! Yayy for small fierce things! ;)

Then back to port askaig, via lovely tea shop in ballygrant. Ferry to jura. Camped in hotel grounds – once again the call of a bar won out, especially given the rain. Fabulous community run shop, so got some (beef) square sausage for breakfast :)

Now back on Islay for last few days of this adventure.

Barvas to callanish via black house museum, Norse mill and kiln, and rebuilt shielding. Outer Hebrides day 3

Breakfast of muesli with boiling water (a kind of porridge which I really like when camping) and tea. Then broke camp, went back to local shop for cheese and a couple of tomatoes, and headed out on road towards callanish.

Almost immediately we came across something that looked interesting on side of road, which turned out to be a rebuilt shielding. Inside was set out as it would have been, with an explanatory leaflet. Shieldings were one room buildings up on the moors where some women and pre school children would go to with the cows for summer pasture. Inside was 2 parts, separated by a wooden bench the width of the building. Behind the bench was the “bed” – a platform with bags of straw for a mattress and wool blankets. The front half had a fire, and basic cooking facilities. Apparently it was an warmly anticipated time away from the oppressive winter life in the black house. I imagined also to be away from the dour men folk!

It was another very warm, sunny day. I’m convinced the Hebrides are always blue sky, bright green hills and sparkling water.

Black house museum was fascinating. Very friendly, helpful, and informative assistant explained that the last person living in a black house had still been there til the 1960s. We’ve seen a lot of ruined ones, just behind post war houses. Poverty kept people from living in modern buildings until very recently.

Surprisingly spacious inside, but the immediate impression was smokey (peat fire kept going) and dark (occasional oil lamps but otherwise no lighting). Incredibly thick walls – double drystone, turf filled for insulation. In from the front door, to the right was the byre. Keeping animals inside must have helped protect from raiding/predation as well as warmth. To the left was large main human room, with peat fire in the centre, over which was a large iron kettle hanging from the ceiling by a chain. Sitting on the long bench down one side of the room I imagined how cosy it would have felt, as well as crowded, especially during the long hebridean winters. Box beds with curtains in front provide some minimal privacy, though clearly they were all multiply shared.

We lunched on bread, cheese and tomatoes.

Further along the road to callanish was a whale’s jaw bone made into an arch.

At 3:15, 7 miles short of callanish, I foolishly believed google maps stating the visitor’s centre (which we hoped would purvey ice cream…) was to close at 4. So I raced ahead to get us both ice cream, and am chuffed that though fully laden, and the road being hilly, I made it by 3:45, to discover they were open til 8 during the summer! Lovely cafe, shop and “story of the stones” exhibition / mini museum, all run by local people as part of a community trust. Good food, good prices and great setting. Most importantly, they do sell ice cream!

Not to seem too “seen it all before”, but I’ve seen a fair few stone circles and they are less exciting to me in general now. So I wasn’t expecting to feel much at callanish stones. We climbed the path up to the site, me feeling blasé, and then… Oh Wow! So many of them, so close together and in this intriguing unique shape. Radiating arms to the compass points, one, an avenue of parallel stones. Such beautiful rock too, studded with white and black crystals. From the 2nd circle, 10 min walk around a bay onto another hill, the main stones were clearly silhouetted across the water on top of their ridge.

We camped on a hillock, once again metres from the sea. Temperature dropped when the sun did, bringing the harr in, so we ended up picnicking in my tent.

Stornoway, barvas, butt (teehee) of Lewis – Western Isles day 2

Slept really well – wild camped on the shore, close to lewis castle. Slept with my flysheet open, looking out over the bay.

Museum – medium sized, lovely open, modern glassy extension onto the castle. Nicely laid out and cool to see all information *initially* in Gaelic. (Have heard more Gaelic casually spoken in past 2 days than in whole rest of time in Scotland!) Fascinating museum attendant started telling us about the lewis chessmen (when I said shouldn’t they all be here, not just the 6 on loan from British museum he responded that the preservation costs for all of them were more than the museum’s budget and was better for the British museum to keep having the responsibility for them, whilst loaning them to Stornoway!) and then gave us a rich and personal overview of hebridean history from 9000bce onwards! E and I keep having these amazing encounters in museums, as we had similar in Shetland too :) “Castle” is just 19th century fancy house but it did have an awesome starry ceiling in the hallway.

I enjoyed the cycle up over the middle of lewis to barvas, but then I’m a sick weirdo who relishes the challenge of a decent hill. I had a big grin on my face the entire ascent!

Almost in barvas I stopped to read a sign on a large white rock and we got talking to a friendly old man, John Dee. He works the peat, for a hobby, being long retired and settling back in the village his family had always come from after decades working all over the world. He taught us some Gaelic, and how to cut peat. In return we were able to delight him with a cup of tea from the Kelly kettle, which he’d heard of but never seen before.

Its been a scorcher of a day, so in Barvas we got ice cream from one of those amazing single shop selling *everything*, and took it down a long side road, which turned into a sandy track, until we reached the seashore. Half melted ice cream has never tasted this good!

We left our panniers there to camp, and set off for the Butt of Lewis. Had got quite late by this point so halfway there we decided to hitch. First car picked us up and took us all the way! Many of the people we’re meeting are incomers from all parts of Scotland, UK, and even internationally. And they seem to share the friendly and hospitable local culture. I often think places are a spectrum of how nice they are to hitch hikers and wild campers. The 3 black spots in my experience are around Dundee, the west Midlands, and Kent. Those are the 3 places I’ve had obscene gestures, things thrown at me, and that hilarious jape of a car stopping, and then starting just as you approach. On the other extreme are Scottish highlands and islands where its unusual to be waiting more that a couple of cars for someone to give you a lift.

Butt of Lewis is grassy headlands on steep cliffs with bird covered rocky islands all around. The lighthouse is a stunning red brick tower, with white buildings. All set off by the blue skies, sounds of the birds and crashing waves. I want to come and camp there one day, but this trip we need to keep going south. Hitching back, 2nd car took us back to our bikes.

Villages along the west side laid out as a long parallel of detached houses, each in it’s own strip of land – crofting still exists!

Just watched sun setting over the Atlantic. At this latitude it was an extended experience, the ocean turning translucent, and I can’t describe all the colours of ocean and sky.

Camped on the “mahair” – sandy (so not boggy!!!) land between the sea and the loch, with sheep and lambs grazing. Slept with sounds of ocean and birds.

Northumbria trip – Cove, Lindisfarne, Alnwick, Hadrian’s Wall and Flodden

Wood stove with thoughtful lighting box full of tinder.

A sweetie and I both really needed a break so we came to Northumbria for a few days. I’ve wanted to go to Lindisfarne for years, so we’re staying in a super cute converted old caravan a few fields back from the North Sea overlooking Lindisfarne. The hut is tiny, but just to make me happy has a wood burning stove, and is so well thought through that the owners included a kindling box and matches! Its in the grounds of a converted church so we walk through the old graveyard to the back corner, where the hut is secluded away.

On the way south we wanted a picnic break and a place called “Cove” looked to be in the right place and probably scenic. Turned out to be this v cute village with an *18th century tunnel* to walk along to get to the harbour! And the caves off the tunnel had been used by smugglers! And the harbour was pretty and obvs super secluded. Great picnic stop and auspicious was to begin the trip with such a fun discovery.

Thursday we went to Lindisfarne. I love islands in general, and the tidal causeway was pretty cool. We went about 10 mins after the sea had cleared the causeway so the road was still wet from being underwater so recently. Saw the walking route, marked out with tall poles. The road causeway is relatively new (1960s). Lindisfarne itself has been inhabited for centuries, and I presume was before accessed by walking or donkey/pony and cart across at low tides. Must feel cosy and safe, or claustrophobic depending on your perspective, once tide comes back in and the tourists have all left, and nobody else will come (or leave) for at least 12 hours (not sure how long each day causeway is open)

Most of Lindisfarne is about the monastery and priory. Over the centuries between 2-10 monks at a time lived there, including St Cuthbert who found even that too metropolitan and moved to a couple of even smaller islands at various times! There is also a village with shops, cafes and a pub, 9 farms, a harbour with upturned boat shelters, and a medieval castle with proper defensive walls positioned on top of a rocky hillock. And whilst exploring around the latter (and admiring the much more recent scaffolding put up as part of a big repairs works) we came across a large 19th century lime kiln which was open to explore and climb in and out of the ovens! On the way back to mainland (we were last tourists to leave the car park) we stopped so I could run across to the walking route and climb onto the refuge built midway across the path because the fast tide coming across the flat estuary has caught so many people over the centuries. Its a rickety wooden structure with missing step on the wooden ladder, lowish walls, and open to the elements. Not a good place to have to wait out the high tide but better than the alternative!

Causeway with tide creeping back in.

Posts mark the walking route across to Lindisfarne. Tide is getting higher….

Great sign!

Medieval castle in background covered in impressive scaffolding

Friday we first visited Alnwick. Awesome 2nd hand bookshop in an old train station (booo train line closures, but slightly alleviated when they make good use of the infrastructure as in this case, or for cycle paths). Books were higher priced than i’m used to (if ever in glasgow and you like such things check out “voltaire and rousseau”) and seemed more organised for collectors, but really nice place to explore and it had a model railway going above and between the bookcases! Def worth visiting if you’re near by.

Hadrian’s wall made tangible the Roman empire – standing at northern most reach of the roman empire and be at a watch tower right on the wall imagining the soldiers looking out over “not rome” beyond. So many Roman ruins in such a small area. We also saw a temple for a god who sacrificed a bull from whose blood came all of creation. Could easily imagine religious services within the small, dark temple filled with the smells of smoke and warm blood from the sacrifices. And forts to explore with packed quarters for the soldiers and small towns which sprung up outside.

Temple of Midras

Watch tower at Housestead’s fort, part of Hadrian’s Wall, looking out over “not Rome” beyond.

At Hadrian’s Wall. For hundreds of years this was the Northern frontier of the Roman Empire, with “not Rome” to the left.

Saturday we meandered back, enjoying the flexibility of having a car and plenty of time. We explored yet more small roads with pretty villages and small towns, the buildings weathered and sturdy, made from blocks of grey stone. Seeing a brown sign we pulled off at Flodden. Of the battle, I knew nothing beyond the name. Reading about it whilst overlooking the valley where at least 14 000 people were killed in one day was heartbreaking. Stupid stupid wars. Such horror and death. Must have been, rightly, terrifying to have been standing where we were, looking across to the troops lined up on the other side, and knowing a bloody clash was about to ensue. A sign at the local church says it functioned for the dead on both sides, which at least was something of an acknowledgement of a shared humanity.

Back in the SF Bay Area for a few weeks

I walked to the bus station through the pre dawn light, pack on my back, with enough time to stop off for newly baked morning rolls in my local 24 hour corner shop. The freshness of the early Glasgow air adding to the euphoria I felt just for being on the road again. Its been a hectic and demanding month. I’ve had to organise and run 2 events (anniversary for Rachel Corrie and I hosted a passover seder for 10 people) which I’m finding really stressful lately. And had lots of housing issues to do with building work and incompatibilities in how my flatmate and I deal with things and prefer our household to work. Some of that was resolved the night before I set off, and all the events are over for another year.

There’s a peace I feel when I’m travelling. Contentment. Relief. Awareness of surroundings and mindfulness. The physical movement and momentum is happy food for my brain. Tensions lift.

And the early morning air, the songs of the birds, scent of slightly damp ground, all full of freshness and openings and new energy. A whole new day beginning. Happiness also at my life that enables me to do this, to head off on a new journey. That I purposefully live somewhere enabling me to bracket trips with 20-30 mins of walking between home and the mainline bus or train stations. I can breathe in and feel Glasgow during the transitions between home and away.

Both the planes from Edinburgh to Heathrow, and then the transatlantic to SFO were very empty, explaining why I got such cheap tickets. When the people in front tried to strike up conversation with me after I helped them with food and then displaying skymap for them, I tried to be polite but I couldn’t totally hide my irritation at them interrupting my precious alone traveling zone out. They were intrigued by my life – a home/work system that allows regular traveling and polyamory – which reminded me of how much of a bubble I normally stay in where neither are so unusual!

Last trip to Berkeley, in February, I enjoyed being somewhere that felt so progressive and safe for that. Last Saturday racists, alt-right and Trump supporters exploited their growing numbers and confidence to descend on Berkeley precisely because it is “enemy territory” for them and violently claimed both the university and the downtown. Obviously I never thought Berkeley was some utopian, anarchist stronghold, but this successful invasion by the rightwing underscored how powerful they now are. I guess it felt more intense for me because of being here so recently and feeling like there was some glimmer of light in the darkness that is rapidly overrunning the world.

I am primarily in Berkeley to visit a honey, and to get some R&R, rather than focusing on making political connections or participating in activism. However my sweetie and I will be on tomorrow’s march for science, and I will be visiting local spaces and collectives, and hopefully doing a bit of volunteering in the background. I’ll probably blog more, both about being here, and to catch up on last year’s trips and events.

Solo Travelling, Solo Poly – personal diary/reflections stuff

This doesn’t feel developed enough for such a grand title. If anyone finds their way here via looking for advice/insights on solo poly or RA (relationship anarchy) what you will get here is merely some reflections from somebody who’s been practicing it a while. Nothing more, but I guess also nothing less.

Labels can be useful – they are a part of language and allow us to communicate ideas in a package so we don’t have to start from a basic explanation from building block concepts in every sentence. They allow us to find others who share interests/ways of doing things which can be useful, build community, share tips and mistakes etc. It is for these reasons that I use the labels solo poly and relationship anarchy as close-enough descriptors to how I relate to those I am close to. In this when I talk about solo poly and RA I am very much talking about the ways and why of how I do them. There are others who do them in different ways, for instance whilst I choose not to live with a sweetie, others may do, I don’t know.

Solo poly describes a way of being non-monogamous which does not seek out partner/s with whom you live with (nesting partner/s) and probably also share finances, parenting etc etc with. There are many forms of polyamory (having more than one romantic/sexual loves) which are not solo. For instance I have many many friends who are poly and have nesting partner/s and co-parent. Their polyamory might be relatively close to portrayals of a conventional marriage, but with more than two people involved. Sometimes they have primary/secondary setups where there is a primary (usually couple) relationship who might have a mortgage, perhaps kids and maybe even be legally married, and then other secondary lovers who are more peripheral, though often very long-term and also committed. I know of other poly setups where children are involved but not always are all the parents living in a single household. There are nesting triads and quads, V’s and W’s. Poly families with multiple interweaving parents, all living together. These are some ways of being polyamorous that are different to how I do them.

I love to travel on my own. I love being able to stick to a plan for exactly until I see something shiney off the planned out route, and then not having to discuss whether to investigate this with anyone else. I’m tardy, unreliable, distractable, easily excitable, need alone time, flakey and … oooo shiney! I’m a terrible travelling companion for anyone else, but a perfect one for me. Sometimes I want to go faster or slower than scheduled. Sometimes I’ll push myself hard and fast to get to somewhere else, and for the sheer joy of the challenge and feeling the ground fly beneath me. Other times a place will catch me and I’ll want to just tarry a while. And this can all change. As I said, I’m a nightmare of a travelling companion! And I love being on my own, including the opportunities for connections that that brings. Sometimes I do get lonely, and other times I wish I had someone I was sharing experiences with, who could also see the similarities/contrasts between x and y because we’d both been there. But these are the cons I have accepted for the pros.

And so with travelling my life journey alone. Being with someone 24/7 suffocates me. Even the bestest, closest people I am blessed with I could not live with. Nor would I wish myself onto them! Because I’m … tardy, unreliable, distractable, easily excitable, need alone time, flakey and … oooo shiney! The idea of someone hooking their wagon up to mine and connecting our fates so intimately is horrifying! I can take risks and flake out on stuff, or choose to throw myself entirely into a new thing, because its only me that has to deal with the consequences, and I know I can. I know I can survive on the streets, or with no money, or eating from bins, or get myself from A to B on sore sore feet carrying my belongings because I have done all these things multiple times. And I know I can laugh all these off afterwards. But risk anyone else having to deal with these? No way! I’d be much much more cautious on what path I took if anyone else might have to deal with it suddenly turning rocky. And then I’d have missed out on all the amazing things I’ve experienced, where I’ve ended up now. I wouldn’t have felt so able to twice quit well paid, secure employment because I wanted more freedom and adventure. And both times I’m really glad I did, though both times I ended up struggling as well as adventuring. Had I been sharing finances with someone? No, I don’t think I’d have been able to do that. And yet both, in hindsight, were totally the correct things for me to have done. And my life is as rich and lucky as it is now because I made those choices.

Yes sometimes I get lonely. Sometimes I wish I had someone with whom I had shared the same paths over the years. Sometimes I worry that if I get sick or otherwise need a support network that not having a conventional partner/kids will make a crisis even worse. Again, analogous to how a fall in the mountains would be worse if there is nobody around.

But mostly it just suits me really well. I have lived with partners on several different occasions. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like that the default was to be with someone. That time together was because we didn’t make other arrangements. That we had to talk about washing up and bills. The constant negotiation eg when and what to have for dinner rather than just leaving that to whenever/whatever I like and not having to plan it out in advance and get shopping in. I can be in Glasgow when I like, and go away when it suits, or choose to not go away when I’d planned to. Default time is by myself, and I really love and need alone time. I don’t have to feel I’m holding anyone back financially because I’d rather have less money and more time when I’m not working. Equally if I want to save for something, I don’t have to hope they want the same thing. I can live how I choose – minimal outgoings and have a flatmate and spontaneously decide I’m going to splash out or not on food on a whim. Nobody else is affected by my decisions because I am not tightly coupled to anyone else.

I have time-constrained periods when I am effectively living with a sweetie. I am often in LDRs (long distance relationships) and so normally time with them means we are sharing a place or trip for days, weeks, or sometimes even months. It can be fun, like a holiday home is fun. Exploring new experiences. Eating different food. And its one of the few times I get as many snuggles as I actually want! But after a while of 24/7 with another person, I do get cabin fever. Took me a while to pattern match the way I was feeling (tetchy, snappy, fatigued, grouchy) with that I’d been constantly around people. But now I know that I need to take myself off alone regularly as well as recognise early symptoms and communicate my alone time needs with whoever I’m with. And as much as I get withdrawals after being with a sweetie for a while and then having to go back to sleeping on my own and missing their company, I also, simultaneously, feel a rush of relief and pleasure to be alone again.

That’ll do for now. Another thing, I’m not sure what I just rambled and whether I ever got to where I intended to, but that’s ok, because any incompleteness or errors purely have a consequence on me. I’m not talking for anyone else. I’m not responsible for anyone else. And nobody is talking for me. :)

Homecoming – Last day in SF bay area (JVP netanyahu demo, and /official/ new friend). Bus ticket drama. Glasgow returning – spontaneous outing to The Lost Boys at amusement park.

JVP Netanyahu demo and Official New Friend

Wednesday. Chilled day with Y. He was working from home. I was lazing about and got snuggles during his breaks. Then I headed into SF for Jewish Voice for Peace (JVP) demo protesting Trump’s meeting that day with Netanyahu and their shared values of racism, wall-building and hate-mongering. Was cool to be with other Jewish progressives, though a little disappointed there was only about 40-50 there. It was a 2 hour demo and I was only there for last bit so there might have been more attending in total as folks were coming and going. I liked the connection between zionism and to USA rhetoric and policies on migration and borders, which was expressed in chants and handmade placards.

After the demo a couple of Bay Area friends I had originally connected with from Gaza (from my trip in 2003) met me and I really enjoyed how easy and grounded in affection these relationships are. Partly I think it might be that usa (partic west coast?) culture is more emotionally demonstrative anyway, so i might just be experiencing that and feeling it as “ooo these people like me, its safe for me to open up to them too”. But regardless I’m starting to really value these other reasons for being in bay area besides Y, and this works well as both Y and I like spending time with other people too when we’re together.

I had this waffle/diner food craving, and as this was my last opportunity for it for a while, we headed to Mel’s. Mel’s is both fun, and cliched/OTT, but I’m a tourist and I kinda enjoy the OTT so I love sitting in a Happy Days set! We even used the booth side jukebox! Excitingly someone joined us who I’ve only before met with when I’ve been also meeting her partner who is an old friend of mine. We both agreed that meeting without him made us now Official Friends. She was also excited to be in SF itself, as she does the common Easy Bay resident thing of hardly ever coming over into the city.

Waffley goodness. And hell yes did I add the extra butter as well as the warmed maple syrup!

Official Friends! And both excited by our food!

Y joined us, and then a bit later New Official Friend, Y and I decided to go for Mexican food in the Mission – hey its my last night! I’m totes allowed 2 suppers! Then we went for a wander and ended up at the top of Dolores Park enjoying the view over the city before grabbing Indian deserts on our way to the last BART back to the East Bay. For I still needed to pack and then get up at 6am for my flight home!

Bus ticket drama

At SFO I was probably over excited by the TSA dog – so cute, though it looked pretty skinny. Luckily the excitement was not reciprocated so I got through security uneventfully, though the same was not true about getting from Edinburgh airport back to Glasgow…

So I’d managed to lose my purse containing my return bus ticket and debit card at Reykjavik airport on the way out. Pop quiz: a) I did the responsible thing and phoned lost property about it as soon as i realised, or b) I procrastinated making the scary phone call and then decided I’d just see them when I transited on my way back home only to find out that the lost property office was only open at 8:30am, was after my 4am-7am transit time? Ooops! Of course I had a chain of backup plans in case my purse wasn’t even in the airport:

1) pick up return bus ticket with bank card in iceland.
2) use debit card stored in chrome to buy bus ticket online and choose sms ticket option
3) use Y’s credit card to buy bus ticket online
4) convert $20 at edin airport (and take on chin the double commission whammy of both converting a small amount and an airport booth – I just need £11:60 for the bus ticket…)
5) once am in uk and time is more respectable (i landed 9am) start calling round friends to either buy me a bus ticket online / rescue me from airport
6) hitchhike – lots of Glasgow folks use Edinburgh airport and I was due to land at peak time (9am)

Ok, fine, so I couldn’t get my bus ticket or debit card… i just drop to option 2. After all I’ve used my card online so often I never even have to look at the CVC anymore. It turns out that my memory of that 3 digits is perfect unless its 5am and I’m on dodgy airport wifi with no way to just look at the back of the goddamned card! Fine, I’ll use Y’s credit card – he’d given me one that was about to expire anyway in case options 1 or 2 fell through. Except it turns out the citylink website doesn’t accept non uk billing addresses. Argh! More time passes and I’m like, bugger this, I need coffee[0] and then realised i could get citylink tickets on megabus website too. So off I go but now I’m struggling with the verified by visa password and Y is busy.

However the coffee was def working – some more googling and it turns out you can buy bus tickets at edinburgh airport’s tourist information booth! They’re bound to accept card payments, and Y’s given me his pin so i’m sorted! There are buses at 9:30 and 10:00 and I’m desperate to just get to my own bed by this time.

[09:00] Luckily our flight lands a bit early and I race through immigration and to the booth (in post coffee alertness at Reykjavik I’d pre-memorised the route from the online airport map)

[09:15] Possibly over sharing I tell the v friendly “welcome to scotland” person that i’ve just arrived back from travel abroad and so don’t have cash yet and so want to buy the bus ticket using my credit card and am hoping to make the 09:30 bus. She says she’s going to make sure she can give me the ticket before taking my money and then has to boot the computer an go through the complex online system. “I don’t think we have to waste time filling in your phone number and email address. I’ll just tick that you refused to give them to me”

[09:18] The printer is jammed and after several minutes she gives up trying to fix the feed and goes to another machine which thank the universe spits out the ticket.

[09:23] I put Y’s credit card into their card reader, but instead of asking for the pin, it says “payment accepted. signature required” and directs me to remove the card. So she prints the receipt and asks me to sign it. I squiggle “Praveen Kumar”[1] and hand it back.

[09:24] She flicks over the card (d’oh! of course she was going to do that! i’d forgotten that was even a thing. when was last time you signed for a card payment???) and the signature panel is blank… “Do you have any other ID with you?” Me, feigning calmness but running lateness “Oh no, I don’t have an other ID with me!”

Lets recap : 1) I’ve told her I’ve just landed off an international flight. 2) As far as she’s concerned she’s addressing a white female with an English accent. 3) The card is for an American bank with an Indian male name.

“Well I think you’ve been kept waiting long enough trying to get it printed. Turn right and then right again to get to the bus stop”

I LOVE BEING BACK IN SCOTLAND!!!! And I am very appreciative that I have bucketloads of white privilege which I am benefitting from – doubt this would have been so easy had Praveen Kumar been trying to use a card with a white chick’s name on :(

Friday – Spontaneous outing to The Lost Boys at amusement park

I arrived home at about 11am. Obviously first thing I did was put the kettle on. Ah tea, now things seem more reasonable. Ok, so I’ve had maybe 6 hours sleep since Wednesday, and I should probably change my clothes, but all I need to do today is stay awake til 8ish, go to the bank to get cash out across the counter, and get a few groceries in for the weekend. Then I’ll sleep like a baby and wake up some time tomorrow, go to the LGBTQ boxing club, and my timezone should be all fixed ready for 12 hour shift on Sunday. By 4:30pm I’ve done bank and shop chores and have cash and am planning a quiet evening and then sleeeeeeeep.

And then, this being Glasgow, a friend invites me to a Glasgow Film Festival screening of The Lost Boys in a secret location, buses leaving from the GFT in 90 mins. So much for the early night plan! Accompanied by motorbikes revelling as they rev their engines to full blast we are transported to M&Ds amusement park. We bump into another friend and play on the rides opened up specially for the occasion, the park packed with excited adults in vampire/hunter dress-up squirting holy-water-pistols at each other on the big wheel and maximal audience participation through a favourite teenage movie. Much glee!

Walking home from the bus, much sleep deprived but very content with how lucky I am to come back to Glasgow, where being “cool” means showing your exuberance, participating to the max. Not sneering, but rather thrilling at and cheering on others’ dorkiness and throwing themselves into the spirit of whatever hijinks is going on.

 

 

eg from http://www.medizeninc.com/index.php/menu/

[0] food and drink seems to feature a lot in today’s blog… To add more, as wow air doesn’t give any food on the flight I’d packed another really good picnic; hard boiled eggs, oranges, humus and veg wrap (didn’t taste good on the flight though – i know taste buds are supposed to be different on flights), smoked tofu and jerky. This time didn’t have the conveniently under 100mls water-tight containers i had last time, and the liquor store seemed confused about why i’d want a *small* bottle of alcohol (merkans and their super-sizing!) so decided to buy booze in duty-free as obvs you can carry that onto the plane. Except then I realised once aboard that i wasn’t sure if i’d be allowed to carry it onto my second flight if i took it out of the heat sealed duty free bag and opened it. so i relied on snoozing and copious pre downloaded star trek to get me through instead. I’d turned down a pal’s offer of a “medicated” jelly bean which given the TSA doggie (such cute eyes!) was lucky!

[1] Name changed to another Indian male name for privacy reasons.

That awkward moment you realise you’re in a Maoist cult meeting but don’t want to appear rude (Berkeley day 14)

Once talking politics might have been considered not for polite company, but these days its foregrounded in almost every encounter, be it in a shared taxi, on public transit (an unknown fellow passenger commented, in a conversation about where to get beer, that he’d just bought a pack of Budweiser in support of “the ad”), the grocery store…  95% of interactions that last longer than 10 secs have at least some kind of explicit nod to the political context.

Keen always to meet Anarchists as I travel, I was especially eager to see what they were up to given the attacks and protests going on. Last year I’d done a bit more research and seen there were 2 anarchist bookshops in the Bay Area, but only visited the one in SF, having seen there was also one in the East Bay. So yesterday I looked up “anarchist bookstore” on google maps and not only did a result show up just over a mile away but they had a meeting on fascism a couple hours later! Score!

Arriving shortly before the meeting I saw bookcases filled with radical titles and was especially excited by sections for graphic novels and children/young adults books. Another blue haired person came up (its normal for us blue hairs to want to greet each other) and was happy to hear I was from Glasgow as she’s seen that we had Trump inauguration protests, though she seemed strangely unexcited when I said I had come because I’m an Anarchist and wanted to learn more of what people were doing here. I went back to browsing the kids books.

Another person approached me asking how I knew about the meeting. He seemed friendly, and we casually chatted about Scotland and politics. At some point though he got intense and started recommending a book that was on the main display just inside the front door promising “The New Communism”. Now its not unusual for me to encounter those defining as communists who have libertarian politics, so this wasn’t a red flag to me, unlike his explanation that “since Mao died we haven’t had socialism in the world”…. Woah, wait up a second! I politely, whilst also trying to back away slowly, said that I had some issues with Mao, but luckily just then we were called to sit down for the meeting and I assumed he was just some random lefty who was also interested in fascism.

It was only once we were sat (in *rows* with the speakers at the front! yes i really am this dense!) that I looked above the bookshelves and noticed that the walls of the bookshop were *covered* in large posters featuring this one dude “Bob Avakian” with the distinctly un-libertarian sounding title of “Chairman of the Revolutionary Communist Party”!

But by this time the talk had started and it felt like it would be rude to just get up and leave. So I sat through half an hour of unsophisticated pontificating, slowly sinking in how I’d proudly informed these authoritarian leftists that I was an Anarchist expecting them to connect with me on that! Finally I pretended i’d just got a message on my phone and suddenly had to leave smiling as I legged it out the door. Later I looked up Bob Avakian and found out they’re a legit personality cult. Absolutely no idea why google maps thought they were an anarchist bookstore, unless its a conspiracy to redirect potential radicals into something so bizarro that they retreat to capitalism sharpish! Next time I’ll do my research before merrily waltzing into a Maoist den!

Where’s Fleabite been this month? :D Walked kingshouse to FW, cycling on Arran and day trip to millport

When I retired from politics, one thing I wanted was to free up energy, time, resources for travel. Its been something I’ve been mulling over for a few years actually. And more specifically, after a few years of lots of “big” trips – either the month long lejog cycle or the multiple international journeys (India twice (for 4 and 1 months), USA for 6 weeks, Germany and Norway) and lots of London and “down south” visits to friends, family, loved ones and for my 5 month DTN course, I’d been feeling a lack of Scotland exploration. After all, one of my reasons for moving to Glasgow was falling in love with the Scottish countryside. For that, I gave up a rich and full London life.

But because of my tendency to say yes to pretty much everything that sounds shiney and fun, I end up with a full calendar that lacks opportunity to see a sunny weather forecast and head out the city. Which is pretty much the bestest way to do it if you’re blessed with living in Scotland. Also the shiney/fun events I would sign up for also squeeze out self-organised trips because the former have fixed dates and need prebooked. Suddenly my summer dancecard is chockablock and I’m needing to work the rest to pay for it all. No more thought I. I’m gonna *not go to events*. I’m gonna do more outdoorsing (hiking, cycling, camping) and in a sustainable way that means the times inbetween are not just workworkwork. As I get paid extra for working on Sundays, my best strategy for getting out the city without it requiring too much work are midweek trips. So how’s that been going for me?

The first couple of weeks of May involved a 9 day trip to southern England for a very important family commitment. Since then I’ve worked every Sunday so financially I’m stable. I’ve also managed to work an extra day or two most weeks which goes towards paying off £1000 debt I accrued from lejog + USA trips.

Monday 16th – Thursday 19th May. Walking Kingshouse – Fort William.

Cost under £50 including travel and food. 3 nights wild camping. Went with 3 friends. Enjoyed sharing the mountains with them. Though as we sat in FW waiting for our bus I was the only one not feeling like I wanted to go home. Hadn’t been out long enough to be looking forward to home comforts, possibly because I was most experienced walker/camper of the group and so maybe better prepared, it felt less out of my comfort zone and I had better gear.

Monday 23rd – Wednesday 25th May. Cycling on Arran

As I finished the previous week’s trip still wanting to be out the city, and the weather forecast was still so gorgeous, I decided on the Sunday whilst at work that I would go to Arran the next day. Put camping stuff into my panniers on Monday morning and got train/ferry to Arran. The total return fare was £21 (train + ferry). I stayed on Lochranza campsite as didn’t have time to get ready for wild camping. That was £9 each night and included hot showers and access to a microwave, which I used for boiling water as well as a microwave meal I took over! Felt incredibly happy from the moment I set off. So free and content to be on the road again. That my life was shaped to enable me to see a good weather forecast one day, and be off out the city camping the next.

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Arran is super accessible from Glasgow. If you don’t have a bike you can still get a bus from Brodick (where the ferry lands) to the rest of the island. There’s wild camping spots all over if you don’t want to pay for a campsite. And its so beautiful all over you can’t go wrong. Just check if you need to take provisions with you before you leave Brodick – there’s no shops in Lochranza for example.

On the Tuesday I left my tent and gear and cycled round the island. Its 55 miles, with hills but also stunning views, seals(!!!!), lots of places to stop for tea and ice-cream, super friendly people and hardly any traffic on the roads.

Wednesday before cycling for the 6pm ferry/train back to Glasgow, I walked up the glen behind Lochranza and saw golden eagles! They’re easy to spot if you know what to look for – people with serious expressions and even more serious binoculars looking at dots in the sky! They were enthusiastic to lend me their noc’s and show me how to identify them – incredible experience.

Day trips to Millport and cycling

Took a visitor from Oxford to Millport on a day trip – he was very excited to find we could pop over to an island for a day! Walking and beach and ice creams and cuteness of Millport.

Been going on cycle trips too – up into the Campsie’s, or to the seaside. The bike just opens up so many options. I like that when I work an early shift (6 hours from about 7am til 1 or 2pm) and the weather is inviting I can just head out. There’s lots of cycle paths. For example last week I went to Ardrossan (40 miles) and picked up a take away for the train home.

And tomorrow I’m heading to Orkney for 10 days :D Bit more expensive for travel – the combined train and ferry costs are going to be £90. But once there I’ll mostly be camping and as I’ll have my bike, my entertainment and transport are sorted :)

I feel very lucky to have a life that allows me to do so much of what I love. Exploring Scotland and just being outside, in nature, on the road whether that’s walking, cycling, public transport or ferry. They give me such happiness.

I want to be able to travel until I feel road weary. And then “nest” until my feet get itchy again. I love how great Glasgow feels to come home to. I can really appreciate having a kitchen and bathroom and friends and different clothes and getting back to my other hobbies and interests. I even enjoy work! But when I’m trapped here for too long I’m just miserable and all those things feel like meaningless trappings of a superficial existence.

#TravelLikeAWoman #viajosola #ITravelAlone

I used to find it intimidating. I still sometimes do, despite myself. I feel like a fraud despite uncountable hiking and wild camping trips in Scotland, despite travelling alone in Europe, Africa, Middle East and India, despite cycling from Land’s End to John o’Groats (LEJOG). But I still feel an impostor when amongst “real” travellers. I feel like I don’t have the lingo. The nous. The gear. The muscles. The gender.

The incorrectness of the last is both internalised and externalised. I didn’t realise how much I’d internalised it until just over a year ago when a friend, female and even shorter than me, casually mentioned she’d cycled LEJOG and I delightedly burst out with “but if you could do it, then so could I!” It being a journey I’d long loved to do, though hadn’t decided on the means (walking or cycling jostling for the top) but had somehow internalised as being beyond me. I hadn’t even realised til that point that I imagined such a feat requiring a large, muscular male frame. Wow we really will be digging through our oppressive thought patterns forever. I’ve been a feminist for over 20 years and yet that nugget was somehow buried in there! Anyway, tl;dr last Septembere I got me, my bike and my camping gear 1200 miles (we took a circuitous route) and had an amazing adventure.

Whenever I mention (especially at work, where the majority of my encounters with “mainstream” views happen) that I have/am planning to backpack alone in India I hear shock, surprise and often also disapproval, specifically because I am female. “aren’t you afraid?” “isn’t that dangerous, a woman on your own?” “haven’t you got anyone you could go with?” “i would never do that” etc. This was echoed in the mainstream media recently after two women were killed in Ecuador. But really, being female is dangerous everywhere. In fact, our biggest risk is when we’re with someone we already know. I have been assaulted in a variety of situations, both whilst travelling and with those I thought cared about me. Staying at home isn’t going to save me, but it is going to ruin my life in other ways!

I’ve always wanted to travel. Always been fascinated by globes and maps. ‘Around the world in 80 days’ was my favourite cartoon. ‘My side of the mountain‘, a favourite book. And that has never gone away. Never do I feel as profoundly content as when I’m on the road. Whether it be hiking a trail and waking up in my tent in the mountains, or a multi day train across India, or the only non local in the back of some shared truck in Africa, or wondering where the next lift will take me as I thumb a ride in Europe, I feel that bliss. Most especially when travelling alone.

So what, I shouldn’t do that because I was born with (probably) XX chromosomes? You want me to wait til I come back with a cis-male body? Because otherwise I’m risking my life?

Well here’s a thing buddy. I might be risking my life if I go, but I’m definitely risking it if I don’t. Because that’s what gives my life meaning, fulfilment and happiness. And what’s the point in protecting a life that’s no longer worth living? Seems to be defeating the purpose if I coset myself so much that there’s no me left? Like if you had a piece of jewellery that you value too much to ever wear? A cake that was too delicious to eat and so went stale? A pair of walking boots that you viewed as too expensive to get muddy?

But the thing is, that if girls and women never see people like them travelling alone, maybe they too will internalise, like I did, that this isn’t for them. That, if they have such dreams and yearnings, they must forsake them. So I’m going to try to start adding to all the other non cis-male travellers who have started telling their own stories. I’m going to try to write about what it means to me to travel alone. How incredible and whilst sometimes scary, also empowering, fascinating, exciting, mind blowing and wonderful have been my solo trips. The women I’ve met along the way (who express that they wouldn’t talk to a male traveller). The adventures I’ve had. The places I’ve danced, walked, jumped, clambered, swam and journeyed through.

Like any traveller, we take sensible precautions. We develop a sense of safety and what is a worthwhile risk, or not. But that to me is key. A worthwhile risk is one we do because what we gain is worth the possibility of something bad happening. And whilst there is no way to be safe within a sexist globe full of gender based violence, travelling on your own is an awesome way to live your life, and not just possible, but fabulous to do as a woman.