Went to Stirling yesterday on the 10am train. Was there by 11am. I'm not sure if I kinda have a cold or am just recovering from last week, but I felt a little under the weather all day - nothing serious, just a bit fuzzy. The weather was nice enough when I arrived: 'Simpsons' clouds, blue sky, not too chilly. I remember thinking that if it could have been five degrees warmer it would have been perfect. Regardless, the town itself seemed nice enough, but I decided to cross the river Forth and head towards this large hill that had a huge stone tower on it, thinking it must have been a monument of some kind.
Along my way I passed a massive stone building that looked quite old. Upon inspection I learned it was Cambuskenneth Abbey, commissioned by the Lord of Stirling in 1140 and home to Augustinian monks. Only that central tower I had seen still remains, but low, ruined stone walls mark where the massive dormitories and meeting halls once stood crisscrossed the grassy landscape beyond. I could not pass the gates, the site closed until April, but on the other hand I could pretty much see everything from the gate. One interesting thing to note, however, was the carefully preserved tomb of King James III of Scotland, who fell in battle against his own son King James IV. So there was a king, his tomb fenced off in the middle of a field, the massive walls and roofs which had once encircled him turned to rubble, and only a vagabond youth from Massachusetts to bear witness to his having lived at all.
Turns out the large hilltop tower was the Wallace Monument, built in 1869 to commemorate Scotland's national hero, as well as the sentiments of freedom and liberty in general. I'm fairly certain I took an incredibly circuitous route to get to the actual monument, ending up on the other side of the massive cliffs upon which it stands. Still, it was a nice midday walk and I was in no hurry. The monument itself is an enormous tower with 246 steps that lead one past several open galleries. The monument was originally to be a massive stone lion crushing a serpent-man representing the victory of Scotland over England at Stirling, but critics called it too controversial, and added that although the Scots won at Stirling, that victory was short lived - the disastrous Battle of Falkirk occurring a year later.
So instead they built a massive tower and built a huge statue of Wallace on it. I have to say that aside from being in a nice park on top of the cliffs (called the Abbey Craig), with an amazing view from the top, the contents of the monument itself were disappointing. One gallery possessed some placards detailing Wallace's life and the Battle of Stirling, another the busts of Scottish greats such as Sir Walter Scott and Thomas Carlyle, and a third that I can't properly recall. The top of the tower was nice and open, where I could see out in all directions pretty far over the scenic plains and into the hills hills. It was cool to see the original William Wallace sword, which was about as tall as I am, wielded by the big guy himself in battle. It was a bit like seeing the Scottish crown jewels, knowing you were really close to a 'piece of history.'
After the monument and walking around the park - where signs promised year-round deer sightings, which never occurred - I down the large hill and into town. By now I was starving and it was getting overcast. In search of a nice cafe at which to acquire say, a bowl of soup along with a sandwich, I was surprised to find only cheap grab-and-go places, a subway, and a bunch of pubs who told me their kitchens had "just closed." Funny closing time, considering it was 2:38pm on a Monday. So I marched on until I found a place tat looked like it served real food, where I could also seat while eating, and enjoyed some fish and chips. They asked me if I'd like a beer or a cocktail, but I recalled my pledge to not drink til inside of German borders, and declined.
After my time eating I began a walk to the castle, but popped into a few shops on my way. Did not buy anything, but did have an interesting conversation with a girl at one of the registers about British daylight savings time. Unlike those in the States, that turned their clocks ahead last week (making the time gap only 4 hours between the US and the UK), the British Isles do not turn their clocks ahead for a few weeks from now, apparently.
I arrived at Stirling Castle at around 4pm, but was told there was no point in me paying for a ticket to go in, because it closed at 5pm and I wouldn't have enough time to really get my nine-pounds' worth. Dejected, I walked around until I saw a massive statue of a bearded man in the center of a graveyard. It turned out that it was John Knox's grave, which was interesting. He founded Presbyterianism, no big deal. So that was the second famous dead guy I'd seen that day.
Beside the graveyard was a ruined stone townhouse built by the governor of Stirling during the Renaissance. It was not finished before his death and fell into disrepair thereafter. Whereas its plaque described it as a 'magnificent display of renaissance luxury and craftsmanship,' all that now remains are dripping chambers, the roofs caved in, the sky looking down upon the jagged walls and its incomplete framework. Very Ozymandias.
This townhouse sat beside a fairly large church, called The Church of the Holy Rude. No, it was not named after an obstreperous clergyman - 'rude' is an alternate spelling of 'rood,' which comes from the Old Dutch word for 'rod,' and in religious term means 'cross.' It wasn't open except for Sunday mass, so I had a look around the exterior and headed for the train station. Apparently Mary, 'Queen of Scots' - not 'Bloody Mary,' she was Henry VIII's daughter - was crowned in this church. Would have been nice to have a poke inside.
Overall I would not call the day a let down by any means, but my other trips around the UK so far have all been better, relatively. I'm especially excited to get out of the UK altogether and see what Germany is like. It will be refreshing to be away from Edinburgh for a few days in a new country, and aside from seeing the sights and sampling the lagers, I plan on doing some leisure reading (The Essays of R.L. Stevenson) and continuing my writing.
On a side note, my flatmate Iain got me a very interesting birthday present, about which I am extremely excited. What could it be? Color contact lenses with Scottish Flags in them. I've never worn contacts before so I'll have to be careful about putting them on, but I'm pumped to be able to really see the world through Scottish eyes for once. They also sent him English ones too, by accident (just the red cross one, not the Union Jack), but coating my peepers in those might not earn me many pleasant looks in return here in Scotland.
I'll write again upon my return from Cologne (spelled Koln, in Germany). Auf wiedersehen!
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