Golf writer tries haggis upon arrival in Scotland, declares: "not bad!"
There is nothing like the first 24 hours in a new country. As someone who has done it quite frequently of late, it still never gets old. I love the confusion, the discovery, the humiliation, excitement, etc.
One thing the U.S. roadways needs to adopt immediately from the UK and Europe is the yellow light BEFORE it turns green, thus warning drivers if they don’t get ready to giddy-up, expect to be run over by the double-decker bus behind you.
It’s awesome. I feel like Mario Andretti when I lift my foot off the break, coast in idle for three meters, then the second the “G” in my eye’s Roy-G-Biv is triggered, floor it 0-30 km in six seconds, narrowly missing fleeing pedestrians.
“Fear is key to our fat children” was the headline in today’s Metro, a free daily in Edinburgh - in a bold font so large you would think Angelina Jolie was adopting another third world baby. You would never, ever read this report in a U.S. newspaper, needless to say above the fold. A local doctor is proposing the reason why Scottish kids are getting fatter is because parents are so scared of paedophiles chasing after their kids in the park, they are keep them locked inside all day and make them play video games and force-feed them Cheetos. An interesting theory.
(I think Americans should get a tax break if they read one foreign publication each week. They really aren’t afraid to say anything, and frankly they’re far more entertaining and actually cover their country and others, not the ethnocentric, politically correct drivel often found in our local and national media. We would all be more enlightened, and maybe we could relate to our neighbors a little more.)
How come the homeless always know the most about politics? After giving a ten pence to a bum tonight at a bus stop, he decided to orate a ten minute lecture on the cause and effects of Tony Blair and George Bush’s foreign policy. Either this guy knew more about politics than any talking head on TV or Washington Post – or he’s a junkie on acid. It was entertaining either way.
Haggis is good…what is it? Upon the orders of my boss (c’mon you thought I could just galavant around the UK doing as I please?) I tried some haggis at dinner tonight. My knowledge of haggis before coming to Scotland consisted of all the various times Mike Myers mentioned it in “So I married an axe murderer” or an SNL skit. It was good. I’ll have it again. What is it?
Scottish Pubs really are that friendly: I hadn’t taken my second sip of my first beer downtown when a fellow came up to me and said, “how do you get a fat chick in bed?…Piece o’ cake.”
We spent the next hour practicing the art of harmless macho bar banter, with a blind guitarist singing folk songs for nothing more than free beer in the background.
Walking the Royal Mile tomorrow then I’m off to Turnberry.
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