I cannot when I am tired.
To be fair, the list of where I haven't been is much much longer than where I have, but I'm working on changing that. And I do think I have the journalist's eye for detail, so usually I'm pretty good on the storytelling front.
But on this particular night, I was exhausted, but I hadn't seen them in forever and hadn't had a good visit with them in longer than that, so I was doing my best to be positive and rally for the experience.
And this is how it went...
Since I am now the worldly expat in Europe, they asked about where Husband and I have been lately. The answers are: Skiing a bit north in Norway and traveling a bit around Scotland.
Chris knew all about Scotland, the castles and history and fighting.
I desperately wanted to tell them about Edinburgh Castle
(To be fair, we didn't feel like waiting in the line to go in, but we did admire it and read all the plaques on nearby walls...)
and the train ride south through the countryside from Aberdeen to Edinburgh
(Lovely countryside and miles of almost blooming goldenrod...)
and The Hudson, our fabulous hotel
(Go to Edinburgh, if just to stay there.)
and wandering around the city
(Gorgeous architecture everywhere)
and the brown sauce that was suggested with every single thing we ate
(Think A1 with a dash of worcestershire)
and the very best job ever
(One pound, one photo. The money goes into a little bucket labeled "Children's Leukemia Fund." I took this photo and deposited my pound. It wasn't until we were a few blocks away that it dawned on me that it was likely that "Children's Leukemia Fund" was a euphemism for "How I Stay Off the Dole Fund." Husband had already figured that out. Smart Husband.)
and haggis
(Surprisingly good...)
vs.
blood pudding...
(Unsurprisingly yuck...)
But I did not tell much of that at all, if any.
I cannot quite remember because I was semi-bleary in my sleeplessness...but I do remember that this came out of my mouth....
"I have never seen so many condom machines and so much dirty hair."
In my defense, it's true, particularly the part about the condom machines.
They were EVERYWHERE.
From the minute we got off the plane.
There was one in the airport bathroom (which will from now on be referred to as the loo since I am discussing the UK.)
They were in the pub loos. In the loos in dodgy restaurants and in swanky ones. One in the loo in the art gallery and in most of the shops.
Usually they were three for a pound with a choice between all sorts of varieties.
It got to be a joke.
No matter whether I had to use the loo or not (which who are we kidding, I always have to use the loo), I'd check the facilities for the condom machine.
And with the exception of one restaurant, which had a teeny-tiny-almost-not-quite-enough-space-to-go-in-and-close-the-door-completely loo, every single place...if there was a loo, there was a condom machine.
Seriously.
(This is one with one of the more vanilla selections. I did not have my camera on the evenings I saw the ones that included the choice of a whiskey flavored one.)
A few weeks later, back home, Husband and I were having Friday evening cocktails with some of his work people. I walked outside for a minute to visit with some of the people on the front porch.
While I was chatting on the wicker couch, I heard a Scottish burr to my left.
Recognizing a reporting opportunity when I hear one, I turned, introduced myself and after a moment or two of conversation, I mentioned that Husband and I had just spent a few days in his home country.
As many Europeans do, my new friend asked how did I find it.
This time I remembered to mention the train ride and golden rod and castles in Edinburgh.
But I also added, "What's up with all the condom machines? Do Scots just have loads more sex that anyone else?"
When he and his crew were done laughing, they confirmed that they also thought there was an overabundance of condom machines as well. And that they asccribed it to drunken wishful thinking.
I didn't ask about the dirty hair. I thought that would be rude.
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