Wonderland and World Wonders...

It's been a fun week. Bethany and I have been making the most of the time that she has off work by spending every waking hour doing something of interest. Last week, we headed to Wonderland, where we had a great day out. We were supposed to go with Becca, but it was her friend's birthday, so we went on our own. I love rollercoasters, it's no secret. I particularly enjoyed the minebuster, where we both nearly died from being shaken to death. It's pretty good fun. I also risked losing our camera by snapping us on the Vortex. Well, snapping me with a bit of Bethany's face. It's hard to take a self portrait on a rollercoaster...

My parents arrived on Saturday, having waited in line for two and a half hours just to go through security at Heathrow airport in London. That must have been pretty intense. On Sunday they attended church with me. It's quite a strange experience having my parents visit my church, particularly in another country, where it's not even really my church yet. It was a good time though, and Randy Clarke spoke a great word. I met Jacob's girl too.
We headed up to Jo and Russ' place for a sweet bbq lunch, followed by a dip in the pool. And when I say dip, I mean dip. I was in for about 5 minutes before we had to leave to go back to T.O to pick Bethany up from work.
From there we went to Central, where the worship was great and the word was superb. Alyn Jones started with some prophecies, one of which was for mum and dad. That was good. Then he spoke on humility, and did it with such a relaxed attitude that it blew me away. There was no religiosity there at all, and it was superb. We went to Panorama after that, getting a fine view of the city and hanging out with good people.

Yesterday, Bethany had the day off again, so we took my parents to the church downtown that we're getting married at. The minister wasn't around, but we got the chance to look inside, and they love it almost as much as we do... We showed them Bethany's school too, before getting back on the subway, and picking up the car to drive to Niagara.

I love Niagara. I can't really tell you specifically what it is that I love about it so much, but it just leaves me speechless. It's such a demonstration of God's power in nature. I could stand there and look at the falls forever. But there was no chance of that; Mum and Dad took us on the Maid of the Mist, so we got an incredible view of them, whilst being drenched in the spray that comes from this wonder of the natural world.
It's an incredible way to experience the falls, and a romantic one too (even with the ridiculous blue ponchos that they hand out to keep you dry). The view is spectacular. If you ever get the chance to go to Niagara in the summer, take a trip on the Maid of the Mist - it will blow you away.

So, on to today. It's Dad's birthday, and Bethany's bridal shower. I know it's a little early for the shower, considering the wedding isn't until February, but my mum's in town, so Bethany's mom and grandma wanted to put one on for her. We're taking my dad to a restaurant first, then showing up at the shower for the end. I have no idea what to expect, as this is not an English tradition. I guess I'll just have to wait and see what happens when I get there. A report will follow...

Barrytown...

When Bethany and I travelled to Canada last week, we flew from Glasgow airport. That's quite a trek from Leeds, so we figured into our journey a few days in Scotland. This all worked out well, because we'd intended to visit Bethany's Aunt Mary in Camberslang (a district of Glasgow) before we left. We figured we could plan it all into one visit.
Unfortunately, Aunt Mary passed away a short time before Bethany came to England, so we were left with tickets to fly from Glasgow, and no real reason to go there. We do like Scotland though, so it wasn't too much of a hardship to head up there. The plan started to come together again when our good friends Simon and Esther suggested that they come up with us too. We'd take their car, go camping, and they'd drop us at the airport. An absolutely cracking scheme.
Simon said that he could get a tent big enough to house all four of us (see picture above), so we didn't need to bring two small ones (a decision that almost led to the downfall of our trip on the second night), so we packed up the car, I jumped into the driver's seat, and we set off for the highlands.

It was our intention to travel all the way up to Glen Coe on our first night, spend a couple of days there, and then head back to Glasgow, where we'd camp on the last night before going to the airport on Sunday morning. By the time that we approached the largest city in Scotland, however, it was getting on a bit, and we didn't fancy the two hour drive north to the highlands. We pulled off the motorway, and onto the absolutely brilliant camp site at Strathclyde Country Park. This site is great. Nice and clean with good facilities. Close to the city - you can easily get a train from one of 3 nearby stations to Glasgow Central station, with a rather nice park and lake on site. It's right next to the motorway, before you hit the city, so you can avoid the busy roads. What's more, it's cheap too. For the four of us, it was £8.45 a night. That's about the cheapest you'll find...

After a good night spent there, we packed down the enormous tent, and drove up north. The journey up to Glen Coe is absolutely beautiful; the road follows the bonnie, bonnie banks of the song-worthy Loch Lomond for a good deal of the way, with plenty of spots to stop and admire the views of the Loch itself, and the increasingly large mountains that give the highlands its name.
Mid-afternoon we rocked up at a little spot that Bethany and I found last year in a place called Bridge of Orchy. It's one of the few places left that they allow you to camp for free, and it's beautiful. Right by the river in a valley just off the main road through the Glen, it's picturesque and pretty much unspoilt. You just pitch your tent and stay there. There's a nice pub, too. My only recommendation is that you get yourself a lot of insect repellent, and some of those mosquito nets for your face. We tried to sit out that evening, and beat a hasty retreat to the tent when we started to be eaten alive. The next morning I counted 25 bites on the back of my right hand alone.

Before all that, though, we took a little walk on the hillsides, admiring the view. And what a view. The train line cuts a course just above the base of the valley, and the mountain tops on both sides were shrouded in mist. In the height of summer, the sides of the mountains are covered equally with a verdant grass and curtains of deep green fir trees. The Heather tints areas with a rich purple. Crystal clear streams run down the mountains and under the path every few metres. And it's so quiet!
The path that we walked on is part of the West Highland Way, a 95 mile (152 kilometre) path that runs from Milngavie, just outside Glasgow, to Fort William at the foot of Ben Nevis.

It was on this path that we met Barry. Barry, who you can see pictured here with Bethany, is a dj from Glasgow, specialising in cheesy tunes of the highest calibre. I've never met a man before who would claim that his favourite song ever (and he wasn't even joking) is Everything I Do, I Do it For You by Bryan Adams. This guy was something special. He spoke to us for a while on the mountain about doing the West Highland Way, and then said that he was off to the pub in Bridge of Orchy, and that he might see us later.
Sure enough, when we came back down a while later, he was stood outside the pub. It turned out that the guest house he was staying in was 3 miles down the road, and off the trail. A taxi was going to cost him £25 in these parts, so we offered him a ride, and in return, he offered us a drink.
Despite the fact that Barry had a particularly special taste in music, and claimed to be the kind of dj that I despise the most, he was one of the most fantastic people I have ever met. He was funny, friendly, liked a drink; he was kind and fun to be around. He didn't hit on Esther or Bethany, nor did he hit on me and Simon... He bought us drinks, and tried to buy us more. He played terrible music at weddings and parties, and took pride in his work. He didn't do much walking, but fancied spending a week of his summer hiking for nearly 100 miles on his own. He was crazy. In short, he was Scottish.

Despite the fact that I'm told most Scottish people hate the English, I experienced nothing but the opposite of this. Everyone we met along the way was just the same as this - helpful, kind and fun. I love Scotland, and I especially love the Scottish. In fact, I think that when I move here, I might even miss Scotland more than I miss England...

Differences...

I'm back in Canada. It's always felt like home here, but every time I come over, I notice more differences. It's not just the use of different words for things, strange spellings and a different way of life.

Earlier on today, I noticed that Thomas the Tank Engine was about to come on the TV. I was rather looking forward to hearing Ringo Starr's voice narrating it. But it was new. And narrated by an American. I'm sure that even new episodes in England don't have an American narrator. Wierd. And what about Rupert the Bear? American voices on that too. How very odd. I've noticed a lot over here that there's a certain urgency to become more European - a lot of English shops are opening over here, and everyone's rushing to them trying to catch up with European fashions and so on. But nobody seems quite comfortable being entirely British; they want a comforting American edge to it.
Here's an example of what I mean. I'm sat watching the Antiques Roadshow right now; but not as I know it. It's an American version.

I know that the main attraction of this program is the discovery of the value of the items that people bring in, but in the UK this is all wrapped up in the discussion of the interesting features and history of each piece. For 23 years, The Antiques Roadshow has run on the BBC, giving viewers a chance to laugh at hopeful people being told that the masterpeice they paid a fortune for is a reproduction worth next to nothing, or to smile with delight when a little old lady finds that the teapot she's been using to keep coins in is worth a little over £100,000.
The BBC knows that what people want is to find out how much each item is worth. But, because they're British, they make sure that most of the show is based around the history of the pieces. The experts tell the owners of the antiques how much they should insure them for, and the owners brush over the value, as though it's far more important to them to know a little more about it than to find out how much money they can put in the bank after flogging it. All very British indeed.

The American version, whilst covering the history of the antiques to some extent, doesn't beat about the bush when it comes to the value of the pieces. The experts (who are all from famous auction houses) quickly run over a bit of information about the antique they are looking at, and then say something about how much they think it will sell for. The owner of the peice will then get excited about taking it to auction.

I don't think that Americans are more greedy than the British, I just think that the British do a better job of disguising their greed. Right now, the jury's out on whether or not that's a good thing.