The Green Shack

Usually when I procrastinate too much a certain amount of time passes between when something happens and when I get around to blogging about it, I throw my hands up in the air and say "Crap, it happened too long ago and it's too stale to write about now."

But some things are too good not to share. Some things transcend time and space. Some things find a place in your heart and nestle in comfortably, never to leave. The Green Shack is all of these things.

When I say the Green Shack, I am actually referring to the Oban Seafood Hut. But the Green Shack is how it was first described to me and in my opinion, is a much more apt name for the best seafood establishment I've ever been to in my life.

Here's the backstory. The first time I visited Oban, it was with my family when we were en route to the Isle of Mull. We had heard of Oban being famed for its seafood so we stopped for lunch. At the recommendation of a local, we made the long, uphill trudge to a restaurant called Seafood Temple. Luckily for us, they were closed for lunch. "Try the green shack on the pier. You can't miss it," one of their employees told us. "Just don't expect to sit down with a tablecloth and everything."

Ten minutes later we found ourselves standing in line, drool pooling more rapidly than we could manage as we took in the smells and sights of fresh seafood all around us. A lifetime later, we made away with the goods: hot mussels cooked in white wine and butter, a grand assortment of various seafood, and a couple of salmon sandwiches to tuck it all in.









My family is from Maryland where lobster, blue crab, and other delicious creatures from the oceans make regular appearances on our dinner table. But we unanimously agreed that this was the freshest, most delicious seafood we had all had to date.

The boy and I went back to the Isle of Mull a few weeks later to go whale watching. We made sure to book a hotel in Oban one of the nights. This time we added oysters and scallops to the lineup.









I love how simple it all is.  It begins when local fishermen bring in their catch and unload right at the dock, often with their faithful sea dogs in tow.



The seafood is cooked simply to highlight its freshness and natural flavor. The prices are kept low; there are no middlemen. There is one large bench and another stand to eat. If you're lucky, you may find a seat. Many others stand or stoop near the shack, too engrossed in their meal to worry about such trivialities like a proper seat. You immerse yourself in heaven for a while, and afterwards, you clean up, wash your hands, and you wish you had four more stomachs to relive the experience.



It's been many moons since we've had a meal there, but the Green Shack comes up in conversation at least once a week between the boy and me. We reminisce about the flavors, torture ourselves with the pictures, and plan elaborate layovers in Scotland that give us just enough time for one more spin...

If you're a lover of seafood who is planning to visit the bonnie lands of Scotland, don't miss the Green Shack. It's truly one of the most unforgettable culinary experiences I've ever had in my life. Simple, scrumptious seafood at its very finest.

Isle of Skye

Whenever I get the opportunity, I ask the locals here what they think are the best sights to see in Scotland.

"Skye is beautiful," they say. Then there's always a brief pause. "You just have to get lucky with the weather." 

Story of Scotland's life, everyone.

The Isle of Skye is located in the northwestern edge of Scotland. With a population of just a hair over 10,000 residents, it is the largest of the Inner Hebrides and is about a five and a half hour drive from Glasgow. 

On our way up, we made a stop in Glencoe Village, the site where Clan MacDonald was brutally massacred by Clan Campbell in 1692. Not exactly a beautiful moment in Scottish history, but we enjoyed a lovely (and extremely peaceful) lunch nonetheless.

Lamb sausage and mash

On our way up, we also made a stop at Eilean Donan castle. If the castle looks familiar, it's because Entrapment, shtarring Shcotland's own Sean Connery, was shot there.

We reached Skye at dusk and checked into The Broadford Hotel, the birthplace of Drambuie liqueur. We warmed our bellies with a wee dram of the good stuff (or in this case, the okay stuff) before trekking out in search of a meal.

It became obvious very quickly why so many of my colleagues recommended this island. These were some of the views we got to enjoy on the way to dinner, which was a five minute stroll from the hotel.

Dinner was at Creelers of Skye - a tiny, romantic nook where we dined on local seafood.

Anchovy and goat cheese nibbles on the house

My scallops were fresh and drenched in garlic butter sauce. Heaven on a plate, folks.

The next day, we awoke to ominous skies...

...and ducked into a few shops in the town of Portree.

Trying on hoodies at Skye Batiks 

Harris Tweeded (Twaded?) out

After a session of retail therapy, we pulled on our hiking boots, grabbed our 'waterproofs', and trekked out to pay a visit to the Old Man of Storr, a rocky hill made up of distinct stone pinnacles. Luckily, the rain remained mostly at bay. We were met with only the occasional drizzle.

Me and a sheep butt

The hike took about an hour and left us all ravenous. We made a quick stop to peek over Kilt Rock on the way to lunch.

Lunch was a light meal at an artistic cafe in the first floor of a house. Our waitress informed us that the soup of the day was 'tomato and basil' - only she pronounced it as the British do: 'tomahto and bahsil', and very rapidly at that. This resulted in a lot of mimicking in our best British accents (once she was out of earshot, of course).

The food was yummy and vegan but not as substantial as I'd hoped. Hiking in a drizzle makes the belly crave Guinness and steak pie, not wild onions and cous-cous!

The boy, his mama and I spent our last hours of daylight hiking along the Quiraing, one of the island's most-recommended circuits. We didn't have much time left in the day and the weather was beginning to act up (re: it hailed at one point) so we opted to hike for about an hour instead of doing the complete three-hour circuit.

As I hope the pictures show, we were treated to absolutely mind-blowing views. Dramatic slopes, jagged peaks and steel-grey waters, all shrouded in cloud and fog...I felt like I had been transported to a completely different planet (or at the very least, certain scenes in Game of Thrones and Skyfall).

Most of what I'd seen in this country had certainly been beautiful, but this was the raw, unbridled view of Scotland that really left me speechless.

And of course, it wouldn't be a proper post about the Highlands if I didn't mention the wooly companions we had. Here's some footage I took of some lambs and their momma racing down the hills of the Quiraing.

This trip was my first taste of the Highlands and it certainly set the bar... skye high (ba dam tish). I sometimes daydream of wandering away to write a book or make art for a living in a place that's far away and remote. I think I've found that place in the Isle of Skye.

Life in Glasgow so far

I was prepared to write a long entry about a weekend in Paris but the internet in the apartment has not been cooperating with Flickr. A post about Paris without pictures seems wrong; sacrilegious, even. I'll find a solution soon, but in lieu of that I thought I'd let loose a little and just blog about what life here has been like so far.

A typical work week begins Monday when the alarm goes off at 7:10. I get ready, caffeinate myself as quickly as possible, tell the (colorblind) boy that his undershirt clashes with the shirt he picked out, and we aim to be out the door by 8. About once a week I forget something (usually my phone), stop mid-stair-descent, turn around and go back for it.

I venture outside; on any given day there seems to be about a 50% chance of drizzle. It's usually nothing that a hood can't take fend off, but it tends to dampen the spirit nonetheless. The flip side is that when the sun does make an appearance in Glasgow, it instantly puts the entire city, myself included, in a cheery mood. Sunshine is definitely not taken for granted round these parts.

Work is about a mile away. On the way there I pass through the city's bustling center which includes hordes of commuters pouring out of Glasgow's Central Station. If I get the timing right I usually pass a man who looks like Walter White walking in the opposite direction. I tug at the boy's sleeve and inform him of my W.W. sighting.

The boy and I get to the client site and settle into our respective seats. The day usually begins quietly - a few hellos and how were your weekends here and there - but the conversation doesn't linger because this early crowd knows that these quiet minutes in the morning are precious. Precious for mental calibration, for getting an early start to the day's work, for luxurious slow sips of coffee before the circus arrives.

And arrives it does. By 10:30 most of the team is here, many straight from the airport. Every time I see a fellow ThoughtWorker enter the team room and roll their suitcase into a corner on Monday morning I feel a wave of gratitude wash over me for not having to fly each week anymore. But I digress. We walk through our card wall (an array of index cards that capture chunks of functionality to develop or tasks to investigate) as a large group and we then break into smaller huddles which usually conclude with "Go team!" - a cheesy but effective motivator to start the day.

Here is where the daily narrative ends, for no day at work is the same and certainly no day is predictable. Usually it's a mixture of writing on white boards, kicking off or handing over user stories, talking with my product owner or business SME, and a random assortment of meetings/discussions/team Kumbayamylords. On average Monday through Wednesdays are fairly crazy and fast-paced whereas Thursdays and Fridays are a lot more relaxed. I'm still trying to find ways to plan ahead and flatline my cortisone levels.

Although the work can be challenging, it is also rewarding. We're working with a smart, willing client and the software we're building provides value in the short term and serves as a technological platform for further transformation down the line. Our culture at work encourages being honest with each other, challenging our own assumptions, failing fast, iterating quickly, speaking up for technological excellence, and cracking fart jokes. It's truly a fun and interesting place to be; most days I wake up excited to go in and do some cool stuff.

And as for working on the same project team with the boy - well, that's been surprisingly smooth. It helps that everything is out in the open and everyone is very laid back. Occasionally he and I will butt heads on something or another but that's bound to happen between any business analyst and developer. We work it out like big boys and girls.

The work day usually ends between 6:00 and 6:30. Sometimes I have to force myself to leave the office because the work can be so engaging and it's almost addictive to stay and do just a bit more. (This project/domain is BA crack, I tell ya.) Recently our weeknights have been a packed agenda as well; on Monday we go on a group run, Tuesdays and Thursdays are for rock climbing, Wednesdays usually involved a team outing of sorts, and Friday is for pub. On nights when we don't eat out (which is most of the time) we whip up something simple for dinner before spending the last few hours of the evening surfing the internet or watching something on Netflix together. Then it's time for bed.

The weekdays have been flying by in a frenzy of such activity and the weekend always descends upon us rather suddenly. We've been traveling roughly every other one. So far I've accomplished 40% of my goal to visit ten new countries (Scotland, England, France, and Netherlands) - not bad for two months' time. There are more planned ahead: over Easter weekend we'll be going to Barcelona, and at the end of April we'll take a full week off to see Turkey, Vienna and Prague. In May there's Wales with the boy's family, and after that, some talk of Portugal and Greek islands for the summertime...

On weekends when we stay in Glasgow, it's a nice mix between playing catch up non-work work (planning more trips), exploring more of what's in and around Glasgow, and generally enjoying some down time. As sexy as the travel can be, the stay-put weekends are sometimes just as wonderful and often more needed for sanity-restoring purposes.

It's surreal to step back and think that we have been living on another continent for a little over two months. In that time we have basically started our lives anew - new apartment, new friends, new surroundings, new work. Yet it's all oddly familiar as well, like we're living in some sort of Scottish alternate reality where everything's the same but there's haggis instead of hotdogs.

I do feel pangs of homesickness for family and friends and Chipotle back in the US. But mostly I am happy and grateful for so many things: for the opportunity to see Europe, for the ability to have loved ones visit and experience Scotland themselves, for the fantastic project and team, and most of all, for being in the same place as the boy every night of the week. I am very lucky to be here in Glasgow.

Loch Lomond

Last weekend, the boy and I persuaded seven fellow ThoughtWorkers and significant-others-of-ThoughtWorkers - all from Brazil - to drive up and spend a day touring Loch Lomond, the largest lake in all of Scotland. (And second-most famous, after Loch Ness)

Our initial plan was quite ambitious; we wanted to embark on the 5-hour hike up Ben Lomond, a Munro (any Scottish mountain higher than 3,000 ft) located on the eastern shore of the Loch. But as the weekend approached, and a series of realizations like a.) Ben Lomond was probably still covered in snow in February, b.) there was a high chance it was going to precipitate on Saturday, c.) the boy and I were woefully underprepared for winter hiking conditions, and d.) some of the Brazilians had never even seen snow, much less hiked in it, made us scale back to significantly milder plans. 

We got off to an early start at the car rental area. Cars in Scotland are tiny, and ours was no exception. Cars in Scotland are also mostly manual, including ours. And to seal the deal - cars in Scotland drive on the left side of the road. There was a lot of nervous laughter and chanting of "Left! Left! Left" during the boy's first few minutes of driving, but he got the swing of it pretty quickly and hey, we all survived to tell the tale. 

Here are some pictures from our walk along the lake:

The guide at the visitor center, when asked if there were castles nearby, directed us to this 'stately mansion'

Challenge: climb that tree. 

Challenge failed. 

Challenge accepted and accomplished!

He lochs to move it move it

Big grins under a cloudy sky

Playgrounds in Scotland are very different from those in the US. We watched this adorable little girl jump in the trampoline.

The group, representing the Americas!

I loved getting out of the busy city and spending time in the great outdoors with new friends. Even though by the time we got to Loch Lomond the blue skies had turned into a grey blanket of clouds (#lifeinscotland), it was still a lovely afternoon. I'd love to return on a summer's day when I imagine the lake loch would be bustling with activities on the water.

I also really enjoyed the drive. This was my first time getting a glimpse into the beautiful Scottish countryside - lush green fields, open blue sky, winding roads, dogs off the leash, and locals with accents so thick all I could do was nod, smile, and hope I wasn't agreeing to something terrible.

This trip left me itching to return and explore more of the countryside/highlands. Ben Lomond, I'll be coming back for you in a few months' time!

Edinbuddah!

Apparently it's not "Edinburrow" or "Edinburg" or even "Edinbro" - it's "Edinbuddah!" It's also where the boy and I happened to spend our first full weekend in Scotland.

Things got off to a bumpy start. We'd booked our train tickets online a few days prior. On Saturday morning we strolled to the train station closest to us to pick them up - about ten minutes before we were due to depart Glasgow. Plenty of time, yes?

No. Because the man who processed our tickets kindly informed us that our train was supposed to leave from a different station, one about half a mile away. D'oh!

So we made a break for it, backpacks and baseball hats and all. Two idiots sprinting down high street at 9 in the morning. I was very aware and deeply ashamed of how stupid (and how distinctively American) we must have looked. But we made our train in time. So I regret nothing.

An hour later we pulled into Waverley station and made our way to the meet up spot of the Sandeman's walking tour. Our colleagues had recommended this tour group to us and we had found the idea very intriguing: unlike almost all the other tour offerings, this two and a half-hour walking tour had no upfront cost whatsoever. Instead, the self-employed guides were only paid in optional tips at the end of the tour based on whatever value the tourists felt they had received. Thus the guides had a large economic incentive to perform well.

I think Adam Smith would have approved of the Sandeman economic model.

Our tour guide's name was James and perform he did. He was a seasoned Edinburgher (Edinburghian? Edinbourgeois?), a captivating storyteller,  and an all-around nice guy. Over the course of the tour we heard a lot about Edinburgh's history (in a nutshell: lots of squabbling with the Brits) and quirks (in a nutshell: everyone loves Robert Burns and haggis).

John Knox, founder of the Presbytarian denomination in Edinburgh, is buried under spot 23 in a cathedral parking spot

Many narrow alleyways off the Royal Mile led to buildings or squares that otherwise were impossible to spot.

The market center, where dishonest merchants had their ears nailed to wooden doors back in the good ole days.

We also passed by the castle but decided to skip the pricey entrance fee and lengthy tour. Another weekend, perhaps.

Is it possible to look more touristy?

The highlight of the tour for me was when James pointed out the cafe where J.K. Rowling spent many a day writing about the adventures of a special boy named Harry...

Holy grounds

Of course, I had to stop in for a pot of tea and see what it was like. Didn't walk away particularly inspired to write, though.

Our tour also led us to Greyfriar's Kirkyard just a few minutes away. Bonus points if you can spot the Harry Potter-esque last name that has been immortalized by a professor at Hogwarts!

The tour wrapped up right as Mother Nature decided it was time to rain, as she is so wont to do in Scotland. We said goodbye to our group, gave James a big ole tip, and ducked into a pub for haggis and a pint. This was my first time eating haggis. It tasted like the Scottish version of a hotdog and was much yummier than its name and reputation suggest.

Bellies full, legs rested and minds relaxed, we wandered into the gorgeous (and free!) National Museum of Scotland.

Dolly the sheep! Science is so cool.

Very reminiscent of the Natural History Museum in DC

Lewis chessmen from the Medieval ages

@dododialogue

Photo op on the roof of the museum

Dinner was a casual affair of chicken wings at a restaurant appropriately named 'Wings.' It was one of those tiny, discreet places located off an already tiny, discreet alleyway from the Royal Mile.

Afterwards we scoped out BrewDog, a hip pub that serves craft beer from the brewery of the same name.

We grabbed our pints and played Guess Who for two hours, haha. I'd forgotten how much fun Guess Who could be...and how slick that motherfucker Herman is. I am telling you, you can never go wrong with Herman. With his nondescript features and forgettable name, he will lead you on a blazing trail to eternal riches and glory.

That night we stayed at a quirky airbnb close to the city center. Our bedroom had high ceilings and a loft-style bed. I don't know what I loved more: the ridiculously comfortable bed or getting to make friends with Billie, the fluffiest cat ever.

I'm so fucking fluffy

We awoke with rumbling tummies the next morning. We scoped out a nearby greasy spoon and treated ourselves to full Scottish breakfasts.

Black pudding, bacon, baked beans, sausage, and a hearty roll.

Feeling considerably jollier and a twinge more oily, we went for a hike up Arthur's Seat, which promised fantastic views of the city. The hike up was quite pleasant, other than a little bit of mud. But once we got to the top, the winds were incredible. I almost lost my footing a few times and climbing up to the peak was very tricky.

We spent the last of our hours in Edinburgh drinking tea and exploring beautiful St. Giles' Cathedral.

Edinburgh was an enchanting place to visit. I'd highly recommend it to history buffs and anyone who appreciates gorgeous architecture. Pip pip cheerio!