With so many years of interesting events, it was hard to decide which should have the honor of being my first post. From Irish pub crawls to flamboyant Thai tour guides, the stories are vast and amusing, but one of the most treasured is from my recent trip to Scotland.

Because of my ethnic ambiguity, it might be hard to tell by looking at me, but a good portion of my ethnic make-up is Scottish. My mother’s heritage comes from the land of the redheads and it has been her life-long wish to visit the banks of Loch Lomond. Together, we ventured to the land of heather and haggis in search of a connection to our ancestral homeland.

About halfway through, our trip took a turn for what could have been the worse. We left Inverness headed south along Loch Ness – nice weather blessing our day. With me behind the wheel, and after days of yelling at my mother not to get too close to the edge of road, our car hit a pothole and blew a tire. Yikes! I avoided creating an accident using my sweet stunt-driving skills (self-taught by watching Fast and Furious movies) and was able to pull off the road to a safe spot. As terrifying as the initial incident was, the real fear set in when I realized we were now stranded on a highland highway and had no way to call for help. 

Overwhelmed, I began to cry and lose my cool, which sent my mother into mama-bear mode. She jumped out of the car and started to flag down cars going by.  I checked the trunk for a spare, only to discover that rental cars don’t have spares – thanks to people stealing them. Only a few minutes had passes when a woman pulled off the road to head down a private driveway. My mother ran behind her car waving and calling out for help and was able to get her attention. The woman pulled back up to the road to see how she could help.

The woman, named Marian, came to our rescue.  She brought us to her beautiful and giant farmhouse with the prefect view of Loch Ness and began to make calls to the rental company. We had pulled over onto her driveway and she was just returning from an unplanned trip to the market. It had started to rain (the only time during our entire trip), but we were safe and dry in the kitchen of our rescuer. Marian filled us with tea and biscuits and we chatted about our families and lives as she prepared for her dinner party that evening. We played phone tag with the rental company and after an hour found out that the wait would be 3-6 hours.  Fear hit us and our host as none of us wanted to wait that long. But because we had a third party rental insurance, we were told we could find a repair shop on our own and pay it out of pocket. “Great!” Marian exclaimed. She had a friend who was a mechanic and had a garage only five miles away. She called him and he was able to pick us up right away. We gave our greatest thanks and waved goodbye to our savior, who my mother named Lady Marian to return to our scheduled itinerary. It was less than three hours from the time the tire blew to getting back on the road, with clear skies again and my mother behind the wheel.

Our destination that day was the Isle of Skye. On the way, we stopped at Eilean Donan Castle where we met Richard, our favorite docent ever. He gave us a great deal of information and told us all about the movies and TV shows that had been filmed at the castle, including Highlander in which Richard was an extra. He let us pose for pictures with the replica sword from the movie and made us feel like VIPs.

Upon the recommendation of a friend, we ate dinner at a nearby pub called The Clachan. There, I first tried haggis and mash and was delightfully surprised by how good it was. We watched as small groups filled the dining area both visitors and locals. The bartender inquired about where we were staying and told us of a bar near our hotel that had live music that night. After finishing our meal we headed to Kyleakin where we checked into the King’s Arms hotel.

After dinner at the hotel, my mother and I walked down the street to the bar playing live music. Even though it was 10:00 p.m. the bar was relatively empty and the band was still setting up. We bought beers and found the only open seats which happened to be next to a large group of college boys. We watched as they became more lively playing drinking games and just as the band began to play, another large group of girls joined the festivities.  My mother took to the dancefloor with the young ladies who danced in circles.  It wasn’t long before the boys, intrigued by my mother’s presence, joined in the dancing. I went to the bathroom and upon my return found my mother in deep conversation with a young man. It took five minutes for her to even notice I had returned. The two had caught the attention of nearly all the college kids who whispered and giggled as they watched. I was able to take a picture before my phone died and that opened up flood gates.

Suddenly, flashes were going off all around as the intoxicated youths documented what must have been a rare sight and before I knew it, my mother was whisked away back to the dancefloor by one of the boys. They spun her around and all took turns as her dance partner. Since my mother is no spring chicken, I often had to yell across the floor to the boys not to break her or let her fall.

Abandoned by my mother and left alone at the table, it wasn’t long before a curious youngster approached me. I am often approached when traveling, mostly due to my unique ethnic appearance, but this was new for me. He tapped me on the shoulder, leaned in, and in a slightly slurred and heavy Scottish accent said, “Excuse me, I’m sorry to bother you but my friends dared me to ask you – do you know how to twerk?” I laughed and responded that I do know how, but I won’t. He apologized and left but that was just the beginning.  The rest of the night was full of students asking me to take pictures, pulling me up to dance and asking questions about my ethnicity and being from America. My mother felt like the belle of the ball, but I felt like I was an animal in a zoo – though not in the worst way.

The night was full of cheer and sweet people and we both enjoyed having such a festive end to our long day.  The best part of the night was watching the bar staff escort my mother out at closing as she chatted and said her goodbyes to all her young dancing partners.