Ayr, with Claire

Last weekend, Juliana, John and I were invited out to Ayr in Ayrshire, to visit with the Youngs. Claire Young is one of Juliana's flatmates, and one of my favorite Scots here. We spent the weekend at her parents' house, being driven around the countryside to tramp through castles, and eating double helpings of homemade, Scottish dishes. This, truly, is how a homestay should be.

Ayr is the official home of the beloved Scotch poet Robert Burns, and we visited his cottage, though the complex was closed so we couldn't tour the interior or visit the adjoining museum.

Castles are rampant in Ayr, being right on the west coast of Scotland, but most are in ruins (typical of many Scottish heritage sites). We visited Greenan, Dundonald, Culzean (which is whole), and Denure Castle, and we also forced entry into the ruins of Crossraguel Abbey (we climbed a fence; no big deal). Ayr is stunning: rolling green hills, wind-twisted trees, rocky outcrops, ocean views, and the island of Arran in the distance, mountainous and snowy.

We stayed for a night, arriving Saturday afternoon and leaving Sunday evening. Saturday night, the three Americans plus Claire went out to the Wellington Pub, which was hosting a weeklong folk festival. Coincidentally, one of Claire's school friends was performing in a band that night, so we whiled away the evening listening to traditional Scottish folk music (fiddle, accordian (playing the pipe parts), and a keyboard) and heatedly debating over the modern attention span.

Claire's family was incredibly accommodating; they fed us heartily, took us on long car trips to see the sites, and made us laugh all along the way. I think they were just as excited to have us as we were to be there.