Hogmanay / Skye, part 2

When we were planning the trip to Scotland, the original plan was to spend New Year's Eve in Edinburgh. There are parades and parties and some huge street festival with live bands. Then we looked at the hotel prices and decided to spend New Years on Skye instead. New Year in Scotland is called Hogmanay. I am not sure why, but it's a fun word to say. We went into Portree, the town closest to our cottage, which is also the biggest one on the island.

There were several bars with signs about finger food buffets and DJs and tickets to buy in advance, but we picked the one with free entry and a cover band. Apparently so did most of the locals. It was a big night in a small town, so everyone had dressed in their finest. There were 3 guys in kilts, a couple of women in Goth-style corset tops, and 50-something ladies in seriously high heels ready to hit the dance floor. As the place filled up and the band cranked out late 1990s hits, a woman about our age who had identified us as tourists (stood out too much - should have worn my corset) told us there were much better parties at other bars. She said we should go someplace down the street with traditional music, a ball drop, and a DJ after midnight. She didn't understand what we were after. Watching the people at this place and standing on the sticky carpet was way better than any swanky

party.

As midnight approached, people starting leaving the bar and heading outside. This was the part of the evening I had been looking forward to - the pipe and drum parade. I like any sort of outdoor festival/parade/concert and the idea of ringing in a new year to the tune of bagpipes in the land where they belong... I couldn't wait. You should know that during my college days at Macalester, Highland Days was held on our campus. What this meant is that one Saturday in May at about 7am, all the students would be shaken from their slumber by the sound of loud, insistent, cutting, did I say loud? sound of bagpipe teams warming up for their competitions. So here we were in Portree a decade later, wide awake and standing outside in the dark, bringing in 2013 to that music. It was just as loud as I remembered, but a lot more welcome and fun. As the seconds ticked away, strangers in various levels of sobriety hugged and kissed on the street. It was a happy new year.

High Street, Portree