Day Six: Pipers and Pitlochry

It's doubtful that I'll get even close to dealing with Pitlochry in this post, but I really like alliteration and couldn't resist.

Sunday's weather forecast was pretty much the same as the weather forecast for every other day we'd spent in Scotland - it would be somewhere around 60 degrees and, at some point, it would rain. I'm certain that some of the incidents which I describe as rain would hardly register on the Scottish radar. This is how I picture a conversation going:

me: "Nice day yesterday, despite the rain."
Scottish person: "But it was quite fine yesterday."
me: "Well yes, but it rained for a while after lunch."
Scottish person: "No, it was clear."
me: "Don't you remember around 2, when it got really cloudy and water fell from the sky for twenty minutes?"
Scottish person (with look of disdain): "Well, if you're counting THAT as rain..." (implication: "... you foolish American")
me: (blushes in shame, hides)

Glasgow's weather, though, was less of that and more of clear followed by TORRENTIAL RAGING DOWNPOUR followed by clear and then... well, you get the picture.




The World Piping Championships (or just "The Worlds" for those of us in the know) took place outside in Glasgow. It was a weekend long event, and we just stepped in for the last day, where the finals were taking place. The Worlds were set up more like a giant country fair than a traditional sort of sporting event. There were booths everywhere, with delicious fair food, trinkets, and such.

The entrance to the Worlds.

You honestly couldn't go more than four feet without running into some sort of piping band, either made up of adults or children, warming up or practicing or some such. The whole grounds were permeated with piping, and, although I'm sure some of you are cringing at the thought, the overall effect was splendid.

We happily wandered around for a while, just soaking up the atmosphere and getting a lay of the land. We eventually made our way over to the main arena to watch the first round of the finals for the advanced master pipers. To my surprise, BBC something was there filming us the entire time. By "us" I mean mostly the actual bands, but you know, there were some crowd shots in there, so I assume that E and I are pretty much celebrities in Scotland.

The first round of the piping championships consists of each band playing the same song. It took me about three songs to realize this, because I am very bright. The performances took place amidst periodic downpours of a most violent nature which cause E and I to seek refuge wherever we could - in various tents or under bleachers or what not. My poor little American umbrella was turned quite inside out by one of the torrents.

My favorite part was watching the bands march into the arena. They were so coordinated, so perfectly in step with each other, so serious and tense, awaiting a moment that they had anticipated for so long. My second favorite part was watching them on the way out, trying to see if they'd let their composure drop for even a moment and crack a relieved smile, or shake hands with one of their bandmates. Sometimes they did, but more often they did not.

The fair grounds 

Larger than life piping 

Although I loved the Worlds, I loved the pub we ducked into for a drink at the edge of the park even more. It was tiny, literally a hole in the wall, and a pint of Guinness was 2.50. The pub was full of old men playing poker and various people in types of tweed ordering cheap drinks from bartenders whose accents I could not understand. It was grand. I wish every pub in Connecticut was more like it.

We could have easily lingered at the Worlds and in tiny Glaswegian pubs all day, but we had, quite literally, miles to go before we slept. It was time to dip our toes in the highlands.