Obar Dheathain

After a week in Glasgow (posts still to come), I went to my friend's hometown of Aberdeen for a day. The mouthful you see as the post title is the Gaelic version of 'Aberdeen'.  As a point of interest - because I was getting this wrong the entirety of my time in Scotland - the Scottish Gaelic is pronounced 'gallik' not 'gaylick'. Apparently the pronunciation 'Gallik' is the Celtic language native to Scotland, whereas the language referred to by the pronunciation 'Gaylick' originates in Ireland. Who knew? 

Built almost entirely of granite from the most 

impressive monuments to the smallest tenements, Aberdeen is understandably a very grey city. This being said, it has a mind boggling number of flower beds and hanging baskets overflowing with bright blooms, stationed all over the city. It is Scotland's third most populated city, and has earned the nick names 'granite city', 'grey city' and 'silver city with the golden sands', the last one being because, as a seaport (the largest in the north-east of Scotland), it comes equipped with a lovely beach.




Aberdeen thrives primarily because of the oil industry, and also happens to have one of the busiest heliports in the world. Oil in the North sea was discovered in the 1970s, and since then Aberdeen has acquired the nicknames 'Oil Capital of Europe' and 'Energy Capital of Europe'. 




During the mid-18th to mid-20th centuries, Aberdeen's buildings incorporated locally quarried grey granite, which, because of such a high mica content, sparkles like flecks of silver in the sun. Granite was readily available, as it is the geological base for the North-east of Scotland; and also extremely durable. Once people had figured out how durable and practical it was, granite high demand, and was exported to London in particular for road surfaces. By the end of the 19th century Aberdeen was the world centre for the granite industry, and I seem to recall my friend saying that for a while, it was mandatory to build in granite, homes and offices alike. 

The manga-style statue, wish
I'd found an explanation.

On my one day visit, I experienced a street market sampling of Black Pudding, White Pudding, and Haggis. I actually quite liked the Black and White puddings, but wasn't overly sold on the haggis. All I could really distinguish flavour-wise was the pepper, but my tongue informed me that it was offended and I should cease this taste test immediately. 
Claire made sure that I saw inside the Art Gallery, which had an interesting and alternative display of arts, including a stick which someone had gone to the trouble of inserting human hair into - 'the Hairy Stick' - which, according to it's design justification, represented the fragility and pain of human relationships. I remain unconvinced and far from impressed...

There was also a manga style sculpture which I did really like, and a painting of a modern-day representation of Jesus on the cross depicting a cows skull wearing a barb-wire crown in front of a cross, with someone holding two butchers knives poised to strike on either side. Yes, I know, it sounds positively barbaric, and I wont deny it was quite a disturbing image. But it was a thought-provoking one, and the more I looked at it the more I liked the originality of the idea, and the daring portrayal of such a sacred and admittedly barbaric event. It certainly made you stop and ask "whoa, what's that all about?" 

Inside the Art Gallery is Cowdray Hall - with a memorial to soldiers. It is a peaceful place with some stunning and intriguing sculptures. 

Next on the list was Claire's favourite place to take tourists - Dunnottar Castle. A gorgeous ruin in Aberdeenshire; perched on a cliff overlooking the North sea 50 metres below, and surrounded by rolling green hills that are occupied only by beautiful Friesian cows. In keeping with the Scottish theme, I'll include that the Gaelic name for Dunnottar is Dùn Fhoithear, which means 'Fort on the shelving slope'.  

Shows how isolated the castle is -
good luck invading that in a hurry!

The ruins themselves date around the 15th and 16th centuries, but the original castle dates back to the middle ages. Its strategic position made it similar to Edinburgh castle in terms of defenses, and in the 17th century the Scottish Crown Jewels were hidden from Oliver Cromwell's army there.
Dunnottar Castle was the property of the Keiths from the 14th century, but went into decline when the last Earl decided to take part in the Jacobite rebellion in 1715, thereby forfeiting his titles. 


After this we went to Aberdeen University, specifically because I wanted a photo of the library. Now, this library design was given a certificate of excellence, and its seven storeys are collectively nothing short of jaw-on-the-floor impressive to behold, so on that front I'd give it ten out of ten for aesthetic appeal. As a functioning library though, out of ten I'd give it a minus three. You may be thinking this is a bit harsh - surely a library with seven storeys can only be a good thing?
Well, I agree, but for one flaw in the form of a giant hole. Oh yes. Smack bang in the middle of this engineering marvel is a sort of atrium, which by the way, 20% of the libraries books had to be removed to accommodate. So the students frantically studying as far up as the seventh floor have the privilege of being able to hear the conversations being held in the cafe on the ground floor. How delightful. Nothing like the endless buzz of conversation and laughing to remind you of the fun you don't have time for, and of course help you concentrate. 

Inside the library, looking up from the ground floor.

I can only conclude that whoever designed the library was either a creative genius who has never needed to spend time in one and is therefore ignorant of the 'silent' concept, or has spent so much time in one resenting the silent rule that when given the opportunity, he decided to ensure silence was unachievable. Since every student who ever needs to study there will curse the designer, I sure hope it was worth it...



I quite liked Aberdeen. We walked through a tiny area called Footdee, pronounced 'fittie' by the locals, which was gorgeous and quaint with tiny cottages and beach style houses with brightly coloured rope-knot door mats and flower beds; and beautiful vases, ornaments and flower boxes in the windows. In a children's playground on the other side, I was surprised to find a sea mine, complete with hertz horns. Dormant of course, but I do find its location in a children's playground slightly curious - can you be certain its dormant? Apparently you can. 

What did the conversation for that decision sound like I wonder?

"Now gentlemen, where shall we display this sea mine?"
"Well Doug, how dangerous is it?"
"Glad you asked Bob, a sea mine is designed to blow up ships and submarines - very impressive stuff"
"Right. And uh, what triggers it?"
"Oh, see those horns sticking out? It lies dormant until something hits one hard enough."
"Gosh. Is it safe?"
"Of course it is. Some of the ones from the 1940s can stay active for decades, but we don't think it's that old."
"Oh good. In that case, how about putting it in that playground round the corner?"
"Excellent idea Bob! All in favour..."