I couldn’t decide whether to shave my beard or leave it be. I was a little concerned of the security prejudices at the Immigration. I trimmed. After 14 long and tiring hours on the plane and another five hours on the economy-class seats of Abu Dhabi airport, I reached Heathrow and past it. No uncomfortable security checks. No prejudices. Perhaps, I could have kept my beard!
Father-to-be Nikhilesh was waiting for me. Took the London tube, and then the bus to reach Sophie’s place, where Nikhilesh and Anuradha were put up. The first time I had come across the word “heath” was in Wuthering Heights, and I had to browse the dictionary to know how it was different from a park. Hampstead Heath was Sophie’s backyard, well almost. A beautiful place. You can walk for hours and still leave new places to discover the next day.
An English breakfast in England, quite clichéd? Who cares? It was a good breakfast. Thanks to Swayambhu, our energetic, slow-mo friend. After the heavy breakfast at the New England Cafe, we went to take a look at the Buckingham palace—not as impressive as I’d expected. Of course, if the Queen would have invited us for tea, I would say something else. Ended the day with some beer by the Thames.
The next day, I met Anu. It was nice seeing her—I was meeting her after four years. We had some beer, spoke about her brother’s (my best friend) crazy acts before heading our own ways. In the evening, I moved to Swayambhu’s place in East London. Shadwell is referred to as mini Bangladesh. We packed our bags and went to sleep—the next day we were taking a train ride to Edinburgh.
Scotland!! No piece of writing can do justice to the beauty in Scotland. Any place you go in Scotland will please you with its breath-taking landscape. So, a good pair of hiking shoes, warm clothes and a rain coat should be on your checklist because the best way to see Scotland is by foot. Unfortunately, we spent more time inside the car than outside.
An Airbnb house awaited us in Lochinver. It was a beautiful house. The kind you imagine to build for yourself. The mountains behind and the lake on front. We couldn’t have stayed in a more beautiful location. We decided not to visit Loch Ness—spare the poor monster. But we took a boat ride on another lake and froze our balls. In our defence, even the Swiss were felling cold.
John O Groats was a long drive, which Anuradha and Nikhilesh smartly decided to skip. Swayambhu and I joined Suvo and Tia, the other couple in the trip, for this very long drive. I regretted it later, even though John O Groats was beautiful.
The next day was going to be another day-long drive to a hostel in Isle of Skye. After staying in that beautiful house in Lochinver, a European hostel seemed just like a hostel. We were grumpy, angry at each other—let’s say we were bad travellers. If you browse the travel websites and forums on Scotland, Isle of Skye is always portrayed as a must-visit place. I’m not sure if it was our mood, but Isle of Skye did not seem as beautiful as Lochinver to us. Perhaps, it was the cottage. Also, the thought that our holiday was coming towards an end.
On the way back to Edinburgh, Suvo, Tia and Anuradha went to visit a distillery, while the three of us sat in a pub and had some beer. Swayambhu does not drink alcohol. He drinks something more harmful—coke. I can’t remember exactly how we procrastinated our dinner, but by the time we were in Sterling, we were extremely hungry but could not find restaurants willing to serve us. Not because we were Indians, such things don’t happen anymore, I hope. They were closing. Finally, a Punjabi restaurant rescued us. Though the food was not great, we were way too hungry to realise it. Anyhow, we reached Edinburgh around midnight, and the next day we were returning to London. I had a few more days in London before heading back to Singapore.
Swayambhu and I took a guided tour of East London on a bicycle. Brick Lane was one of the stops in the tour, and we decided to have chicken wings here. The wings were served with sauces of different hotness scale. The arrogant bastards asked for the hottest. The nice gentleman serving the wings warned us and insisted that we taste the sauce first, before making that brave but stupid decision. We should have changed our minds, but egos were hurt by then and so were our stomachs a few moments later.
In the evening, Anuradha and Nikhilesh joined us for a play based on George Orwell’s, 1984. I’m not a regular theatre-goer, but I must say that one must watch at least one play, if in London.
I also met Achu Namgay and his family. Spent a night at their house—machila (sister-in-law) had made some awesome Naga-style pork. Oh, I have a weakness for pork.
The next day we were in Oxford. It was nothing like I imagined. It had opened its gates, far too wide for the tourists. Can’t be the reason the gates aren’t as open to students. Anuradha had a group of Nepali friends here—research scholars, teachers. Punting was fun—I fell in the river. It deserved another day, but I had to catch a plane the next morning.
Father-to-be Nikhilesh was waiting for me. Took the London tube, and then the bus to reach Sophie’s place, where Nikhilesh and Anuradha were put up. The first time I had come across the word “heath” was in Wuthering Heights, and I had to browse the dictionary to know how it was different from a park. Hampstead Heath was Sophie’s backyard, well almost. A beautiful place. You can walk for hours and still leave new places to discover the next day.
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| Beer by the Thames |
The next day, I met Anu. It was nice seeing her—I was meeting her after four years. We had some beer, spoke about her brother’s (my best friend) crazy acts before heading our own ways. In the evening, I moved to Swayambhu’s place in East London. Shadwell is referred to as mini Bangladesh. We packed our bags and went to sleep—the next day we were taking a train ride to Edinburgh.
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| Ullapool |
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| Clachtoll |
An Airbnb house awaited us in Lochinver. It was a beautiful house. The kind you imagine to build for yourself. The mountains behind and the lake on front. We couldn’t have stayed in a more beautiful location. We decided not to visit Loch Ness—spare the poor monster. But we took a boat ride on another lake and froze our balls. In our defence, even the Swiss were felling cold.
 |
| Duncansby Head Lighthouse |
The next day was going to be another day-long drive to a hostel in Isle of Skye. After staying in that beautiful house in Lochinver, a European hostel seemed just like a hostel. We were grumpy, angry at each other—let’s say we were bad travellers. If you browse the travel websites and forums on Scotland, Isle of Skye is always portrayed as a must-visit place. I’m not sure if it was our mood, but Isle of Skye did not seem as beautiful as Lochinver to us. Perhaps, it was the cottage. Also, the thought that our holiday was coming towards an end.
On the way back to Edinburgh, Suvo, Tia and Anuradha went to visit a distillery, while the three of us sat in a pub and had some beer. Swayambhu does not drink alcohol. He drinks something more harmful—coke. I can’t remember exactly how we procrastinated our dinner, but by the time we were in Sterling, we were extremely hungry but could not find restaurants willing to serve us. Not because we were Indians, such things don’t happen anymore, I hope. They were closing. Finally, a Punjabi restaurant rescued us. Though the food was not great, we were way too hungry to realise it. Anyhow, we reached Edinburgh around midnight, and the next day we were returning to London. I had a few more days in London before heading back to Singapore.
Swayambhu and I took a guided tour of East London on a bicycle. Brick Lane was one of the stops in the tour, and we decided to have chicken wings here. The wings were served with sauces of different hotness scale. The arrogant bastards asked for the hottest. The nice gentleman serving the wings warned us and insisted that we taste the sauce first, before making that brave but stupid decision. We should have changed our minds, but egos were hurt by then and so were our stomachs a few moments later.
In the evening, Anuradha and Nikhilesh joined us for a play based on George Orwell’s, 1984. I’m not a regular theatre-goer, but I must say that one must watch at least one play, if in London.
I also met Achu Namgay and his family. Spent a night at their house—machila (sister-in-law) had made some awesome Naga-style pork. Oh, I have a weakness for pork.
The next day we were in Oxford. It was nothing like I imagined. It had opened its gates, far too wide for the tourists. Can’t be the reason the gates aren’t as open to students. Anuradha had a group of Nepali friends here—research scholars, teachers. Punting was fun—I fell in the river. It deserved another day, but I had to catch a plane the next morning.
