I never believed in the saying "bitten by the travel bug" much like being bitten by "the love bug" I suppose. Who are these travel bugs? Why are there so many of them? Where do they come from and why the hell am I always getting bitten by a different strand of their species?
My lack of bites and all other manner of itchy feelings, probably had something to do with having done very little travel other then family holidays or road trips, until I ventured to Europe this year. Every day was an adventure and I travelled to some places that not only had I fantasised and read about my whole life, not just on a travelling scale -but a spiritual one.
Europe is really the birthplace of everything fantastical to me, all of the Royal Dynasties that stood there thousands of years before me and breathed the same air as I had. Their birth places, their death places, their brandished and now fallen castles... all of their spirits overwhelmed me.
One particular place above all that really spoke to me and captured all five of these elements I have been speaking of was our trip to Scotland, and our following visit into the depths of the Isle of Skye.
Although this picture captures a beauty so magnificent and pure, you can't really fathom what you see in pictures and how you view them in real life. So in some ways, I guess you could say as beautiful as this picture is, it does no justice for the feeling you get inside when you are standing amongst one of these glorious glenn's with mountains as far and as high as your eyes can see.
Our tour driver told us tales of how the folk on the Isle, believed heavily in faery or elven lore, and did not appreciate anyone that joked about or did not follow in the respect of these customs. Everyone on the bus of course laughed, including the tour driver, whilst I sat there waiting for him to tell me more.
Some of the tales involved the way in which all of the folk on the Isle feared many things included being tricked/fooled by the faery folk, which seemed silly to my companions yet rang true to me.
One particular tale told (to which we also later visited the tale place) of the "Old Man of Storr" a married couple who climbed every day to the top of the mountain, to drink in the glorious views surrounding them. Slowly the mans wife gets so old she cannot climb the mountain and they are visited by a faery who makes a deal with them to be able to see this view forever. Of course they hastily agree, and the faery turns them both into craggy rocks. Set atop this mountain for centuries one day the wife cracks and fall to her death below. The man is so upset he too cracks and in his place, falls a waterstream - tears from the heartbreak for his lady love lies the Old Man of Storr.
Picturesque beauty, art, realms, travel and dynasties encompass the whole of Europe. One day if i'm lucky enough I will get to traverse the whole of it.
That's it for now,
yoursirensong xox





