Sheepshagger Country

Yup, this is a post about sheep. I can only get away with this 'cause I'm living in Scotland...

There's nothing cuter than baby sheep. They are so adorable, tottering around on their little wee legs and their stumpy tails start waggin' ninety to nothing when they're feeding from their fat mamas. It seemed that sheep bearing season occurred a few months ago, tons and tons of little lambies started appearing in all the fields we drove by out in the country. You can be outside of the city limits for not even five minutes before you spot hundreds of sheep. They are absolutely everywhere, unlike in Texas where you're lucky to see a couple cows!

I finally uploaded these pictures from my friend's camera, taken a few weeks ago during a drive to Stonehaven. My goal was to touch a wee sheepie because they just look sooo soft and fluffy. And they are! I lucked out and found a friendly little guy craning his head outside the gate bars trying to get the bits of grass that were definitely way greener on the other side. See the cuteness for yourself...

The sheep here aren't raised as much for the wool, we've been told, as they are for the meat. I think the wool industry has taken a hit in modern times, though it certainly still exists. And there's quite a science to keeping sheep; it's not just a bunch of wooly haired baa-ing animals eating up your grass. They are marked and herded and fed and sheared and tended carefully during birth. The average "sheep mom" bears one to two babies each season - judging by the sheep population boom we noticed in early spring. Every once in awhile though a sheep might have three lambs, so the farmers will take the third little one and introduce it to a momma sheep with only one baby. That way they can better feed and care for two versus three. The process is normally very successful and the sheep take to it with little problems. It's like the too-many-sheep adoption program!

And just for good measure, here's some nice scenic shots from our drive back into Aberdeen. When the sun's out, it really does make for some pretty Scottish views that are, uh, baaaa none.

My Recipes: Cajun Shrimp & Veggie Pasta

I haven't done a recipe post in awhile and thought this might be a good time to interject some food. Hence the following hodge podge of ingredients for a meal I totally made up tonight when I decided that I really wanted pasta. And shrimp. Together. But I didn't have any sauce handy and I didn't feel like going to the story. It's amazing how creative one can get when one does not want to walk to the grocery store. And one didn't. Here's what you need to know...

Cajun Shrimp & Veggie Pasta
Serves 2 hearty portions
Cook time: about 20 mins

1/2 bag of pasta, any kind
7 or 8 ounces of peeled shrimp (or really just whatever amount you feel like cooking)
1 red onion, chopped
1 yellow bell pepper, chopped
1 bunch asparagus, chopped and steamed
Chopped garlic, spoonful out of a jar or 3-4 cloves
Salt & pepper
Cajun-mixed seasoning, your choice
EVOO (extra virgin olive oil in Rachael Ray-speak)

Bring a pot of salted water to a boil and add pasta. While pasta cooks, add about a tablespoon EVOO to a large sautee pan and throw in your onions and bell pepper. Sprinkle lightly with cajun seasoning and stir often, until vegetables begin to soften and pieces start browning. Then add shrimp, 1/2 of garlic and asparagus, seasoning liberally with salt and pepper. (I like using sea salt and then a bit of Lawry's Seasoning Salt at the end for a better flavor.)

While shrimp cooks, combine about 2 tablespoons EVOO, spoonful of garlic and liberal amount of salt and pepper in small bowl then whisk with fork. When shrimp is opaque white (usually 4-5 minutes cook time), drain pasta then add the pasta back to its pot. Stir in shrimp and veggie mixture and EVOO sauce and toss well. Enjoy!

The World of MacBride

You might have heard about my obsession with Stuart MacBride and his books. I think I mentioned him here and here. I read all five tomes in his Logan McRae series at lightening speed and then nearly went into a brief depression when I realized there were no more. But fate smiled upon me, and his sixth and newest installment in the Aberdeen-based detective series has hit the shelves. You bet I've got my copy, ahem, booked at the local Ferryhill library (they're so popular you have to reserve them or you'll never see 'em).

For good measure, I ordered up an additional novel of his, this one apart from the series. That way I'll have two juicy reads to entertain me over the next 2-3 weeks. Or maybe just for the plane ride to Italy and back. Because that's how fast I read them. I have to order two at a time, which is probably why the librarian plunks them on the counter when I walk in. Who else reserves two big stacks of pages twice a month?

And now I've just discovered his blog. Praise Heaven. It's like a satirical gold mine of punch lines - dark humor, witty banter and snippy one-liners all twisted up in Aberdonian accents. I love it. He makes me want to use the expression "sodding about" every 15 minutes.

Stuart MacBride is a tremendous writer, and possibly one of the greatest I've ever discovered. He's certainly my favorite. His gritty crime novels are just my thing, like glorified CSI episodes set in Scotland and loaded with fish and chips and tins of Irn Bru.

Without further ado, ladies and gents, take a peek into the mastermind that is Mr. MacBride, courtesy of his newly renovated web site which you can view in full here.

..........................

Stuart MacBride was born in Dumbarton, but ran away to join the circus at the age of nine, where he specialised in wrestling bears for money (Going on to represent Great Britain at the Atlanta Olympics). In 1975 he won the Nobel Peace Prize for his revolutionary work on Irn-Bru, then went on to create the world's biggest ball of bellybutton lint. In 1989 he joined the secret intelligence service, but was later invalided out due to a back injury sustained while performing a reverse-overhead-piledriver on a grizzly bear. Now confined to his pyjamas, Stuart whiles away his time writing crime novels set in Aberdeen and lying to journalists.

 *ahem*

 Or at least, that's the version of events I gave Trend Magazine. They published it too...

In real life I was born in Dumbarton -- no one knows why, not even my mother -- and moved up to Aberdeen at the tender age of two, dragging my mother, father, and a pair of wee brothers with me. There followed a less than stellar academic career, starting out in Marchburn Primary School, where my evil parents forced me to join the cub scouts (specialising in tying unnecessary knots in things and wearing shorts). Thence to Middlefield Academy for some combat recorder practice.

Having outstayed our welcome in Heathryfold we stopped thencing and tried going hence instead. To Westhill. To a housing development built over the remains of a pig farm. Sounds a bit suspect, but that's what the official story was when all the householders found teeth and bones coming to the surface of their neatly tended vegetable plots. Pig farm. Right... Eventually I escaped from Westhill Academy with a CSE in woodwork, a deep suspicion of authority, and itchy shins.

"If you've never tried it, I can wholly recommend giving it a go..."There followed an aborted attempt to study architecture at Herriot Watt in Edinburgh, which proved to be every bit as exciting and interesting as watching a badger decompose. If you've never tried it, I can wholly recommend giving it a go (watching mouldy badgers falling to bits, not architecture). So I gave up the life academic and went a-working offshore instead. That involved a lot of swearing as I recall. Swearing and drinking endless cups of tea. And I think I had Alpen every morning for about a year and a half. Can't look at a bowl of the stuff now without getting the dry boak, sod how regular it keeps you. After my stint offshore I had a bash at being a graphic designer, a professional actor, an undertaker, a marketing company's studio manager, a web designer, programmer, technical lead... Then last, but by all means least, finally circling the career drain by becoming a project manager for a huge IT conglomerate.

Shudder.

Anyway, while I was doing all that IT stuff, I wrote a wee book about an Aberdonian detective sergeant and his dysfunctional colleagues: Cold Granite. HarperCollins bought it, and overnight I went from a grumpy project manager caterpillar to a writing butterfly. As long as you can picture a six-foot-tall, pasty-white, bearded butterfly with no wings, that spends all its time hanging about the house in its jammies.

'Till I Hear You Sing

The passion of Phantom of the Opera continues in Love Never Dies.

He received a standing ovation when we attended the performance at the Adelphi Theatre in London.

The words move you and the music of the night soothes you.

And years come and years go

Time runs dry

Still I ache down to the core

My broken soul

Can’t be alive and whole

Till I hear you sing once more...

Switzerland, Germany & Austria: Das Good!

After five days galavanting around Germany, Switzerland and a snippet or two of Austria, we came back to Scotland reminding ourselves that the people here do speak English and we could stop over pronunciating our words. We could also eat vegetables again. The Germans believe in a meat-and-potatoes diet and nothing more. Starch overload... somebody get me a carrot!

But all kidding aside, the husband and I got to take in some breathtaking views of Germany, some elaborate Swiss banks and cuckoo clocks and a foggy, hazy view of the Alps along with the Disney-inspiring structure, Neuschwanstein Castle. Piqued your interest, have I? Grab another cuppa (Scottish "slang" for a mug of tea or coffee) because more of our "Texas Tales from Europe" are coming 'atcha!

It took about six hours for us to get from Aberdeen to Zurich, and it was late night and raining when we arrived. We easily grabbed a taxi from the airport to our overnight digs at the Leoneck Hotel, which was decorated in an odd combination of cow themes. But our room was plenty big enough (UK and European hotel rooms run notoriously small) and we dropped off our bags then went for a walk in search of the city and dinner. We took in a few sparkling nighttime views from a bridge near the rail station and stopped in at Mickey D's for some food. Sometimes, when all else fails (or is already closed), you come to appreciate the consistency of the familiar American Golden Arches.

rainy arrival in zurich

dinner a la mcdonalds

our cow-themed hotel

Our next day I was up and ready to go explore Zurich! I've been looking forward to visiting Switzerland for a long, long time. One large hot tea and a blueberry muffin at Starbucks later, we were headed for Bahnhofstrasse, the main shopping street in town and also home to the headquarters of Switzerland's two largest banks, the famed Fraumünster church (more on that later) and yummy chocolated-lined shelves at the delicious Confiserie Sprungli chocolate shop and cafe.

We browsed a couple stores, took a bunch of pictures and stopped for some truffles du jour at Confiserie. Then we headed into the Fraumünster since I wanted to see the gorgeous stained glass windows created by 20th century legendary artist Marc Chagall. They did not disappoint - they were beautiful! The church is one of three main cathedrals in the city of Zurich and was founded way back in 853. The actual building that stands now was created in the late 1800s, I believe. There are five breathtaking Chagall stained glass windows in the choir, each depicting a different theme and specific color. Of course, we weren't allowed to take pictures inside the church but I managed to get a pretty dang good secret snapshot of three of the windows! From left to right, they depict Jacob, Christ and Zion.

After a tasty local Italian lunch (and much needed beer break), we wandered over to the edge of Lake Zurich for some pictures and nature watching. There were tons of swans and beautiful mallard ducks swimming around everywhere. Two odd looking duck-creatures in some sort of funny mating ritual captivated our attention for a good 20 minutes. They chased and swam around after each other, diving underwater like little torpedos, then would come face to face and spread out their neck feathers and shake their little heads at each other!

That afternoon we managed to find the Hertz office and retrieve our rent car - a giant upgrade from the little Nissan Micra we're used to driving in Aberdeen! It was an actual SUV! Once we were loaded up, we set out for Oberstaufen, Germany and enjoyed such gorgeous scenery along the way. Our hotel in Oberstaufen was actually a resort, but we stopped so many times on the road for pictures and a little sightseeing that we didn't end up with a ton of time to enjoy our place. We did find yet another good Italian place for dinner in a small town nearby, but luckily they had some native Germany dishes as well. I had some of the most delicious salmon and we tried out some new beers as well.

stopped for a drink and a snack at this charming cafe in constance

drive-by scenery

the alps!!

the view behind our resort hotel in oberstaufen

It was an early rise the next morning to give us enough time to make breakfast in the adorable hotel restaurant, pack and load and get back on the road. This time the highlight was to see the Neuschwanstein Castle, which provided the inspiration for Disney's Sleeping Beauty castle. It was absolutely breathtaking, perched high in the rocky cliffs. Your Wikipedia facts: Neuschwanstein Castle is a 19th-century Romanesque Revival palace on a rugged hill above the village of Hohenschwangau near Füssen in southwest Bavaria, Germany. The palace was commissioned by Ludwig II of Bavaria as a retreat and as an homage to Richard Wagner. The palace was intended as a personal refuge for the reclusive king, but it was opened to the paying public immediately after his death in 1886. Since then over 60 million people have visited Neuschwanstein Castle. More than 1.3 million people visit annually, with up to 6,000 per day in the summer. The palace has appeared prominently in several movies and was the inspiration for Disneyland's Sleeping Beauty Castle.

We opted not to go in for a tour but rather admire it from the ground below, becoming only mildly distracted by some highflying gliders who were partaking in the Hang Gliding World Championships 2010. Uh, that would be kind of a big deal. There was a festival of some sort set up just down the ride to celebrate the competition so we stopped off to check it out, and ended up riding a toboggan down the hillside. Who said we aren't a fun bunch? Hang gliders sure are.

Our next overnight stop was in Garmisch-Partenkirchen. This little resort town, right near the Austrian border, was, as its name suggests, formerly two separate cities. A little history nugget for you, courtesy of Wikipedia: Garmisch and Partenkirchen remained separate until their respective mayors were forced by Adolf Hitler to combine the two market towns in 1935 in anticipation of the 1936 Winter Olympic games. Today, the united town is casually (but incorrectly) referred to as Garmisch, much to the dismay of Partenkirchen's residents. Most visitors will notice the slightly more modern feel of Garmisch while the fresco-filled, cobblestoned streets of Partenkirchen offer a glimpse into times past. Early mornings and late afternoons in pleasant weather often find local traffic stopped while the dairy cows are herded to and from the nearby mountain meadows.

the view from our hotel window

streets of partenkirchen

The streets of Partenkirchen are charming, indeed, with beautifully decorated buildings. But there was hardly a person in site as Mike and I went for a stroll. We stopped in what was probably the only busy bar (and by busy, I mean more than 1 person not counting the bartender), grabbed a beer and found out from the locals that there was a festival going on in Garmisch that evening. Of course we had to check it out, which ended up being a great time and we spent our night sipping local German brews, sampling Bratwurst, flan and mojitos (from now on, I'll leave those to Mexico!) and enjoying some live music. I felt very German! Our taxi driver was also kind enough to drive us by the old Olympic stadium; it's really amazing to think about the many memories made there back in 1936. Apparently Garmisch-Partenkirchen has put in a bid for the 2018 Olympics, to be supported by surrounding cities Munich and Schönau am Königsee. (There are only two other competing bids coming from France and South Korea, supposedly making up the lowest number of Winter Olympics bids since 1988.)

eating up the festival in garmisch

the 1936 olympic stadium

We were up and at 'em the following morning to make it to Munich in time to return our rent car and explore the city before night fell. We checked into the Marriott, which was the most "Americanized" and modernized hotel we've stayed in our entire time abroad. Thank Heaven for USA-inspired digs. The weather had graced us with bearable temperatures and even some sun, so we enjoyed perusing the city which included an overabundance of Bavarian pretzels, beersteins and architecture. We landed in Marienplatz square, a central city spot in Munich, marked by the stately New Town Hall, built in the late 1800s and explemifying the typical Gothic Revival architecture which dominates so much of Europe. Here, we watched the building's Rathaus-Glockenspiel chime the five o'clock hour. The Glockenspeil is a two-story clock of sorts equipped with 43 bells and 32 life-sized figures that rotate as the bell dongs out the time. Each half of the "clock" tells a story, the top portion depicting the marriage of the local Duke Wilhelm V, who also founded the world famous Hofbräuhaus.

st. michael's cathedral in munich

After a sun-drenched meal of beef noodle soup and salad and a couple beers and one dessert stop at the Ratskeller restaurant (underground eatery beneath the New Town Hall), we stopped back by the hotel to freshen up then headed to said Hofbräuhaus for dinner. Another two-story creation, the brewery was inititally established in 1589 and serves up a storied past which you can read about in detail here should you wish. We drank litres of their dark ale and ate to our heart's content while special performers entertained diners with everything from traditional German dancing to playing "Appalachian Spring" on the ricola trumpets! (Actually, it's really called an alphorn. See more here.)

hofbrauhaus large white building on left

inside the old restaurant brewery

Before we left the following morning I got in a bit of shopping and a little more people watching... there's nothing that quites makes your day like seeing a grown man in lederhosen (leather pants) at 10:30 in the am. In fact, there's actually nothing at all like seeing Munich, Germany at 10:30am on a Monday morning. Or Zurich, Switzerland three days before that.  Or flying back to your "home" in Aberdeen, Scotland. Funny how something that once seemed so foreign can become much less strange over time. Speaking of less strange, I'm off to find me some vegetables for dinner. Not all things familiar need stick around...