Hannes saves the daySchäfer, Iris
Although our trip through Scotland was, with very few exceptions, more like a chain of continuous highlights, I think my personal highlight was an event that transpired on our first evening in Portree on the Isle of Skye. Starting out spacious and clean in Glasgow, our accommodations hit their all-time low when we came to the Independent Inn in Portree. Frankly, I have no idea what was so independent about the place, save its mold colony in the basement showers and the overall layer of grime that gave the hostel its special flair.
Thus it won't come as a surprise that many excursioners including myself were in a very foul mood after a brief inspection of the premises and in an even fouler mood after wandering through the entire town of Portree in a quarter of an hour and taking in the sights such as the knitwear shop that had the letter “R” missing from its sign or the music store that was open from “9ish” onwards. It was resolved to head to the local pub and drink enough to wind up in a police holding cell.
Before that, we assembled in front of the hostel to trade our first horror stories. Hannes told a story he had already told me before and that had previously only worsened our mood, namely that when taking a closer look at the cleaning utensils on the first floor he found nothing but odor neutralizer and some kind of furniture deodorant. However, this time around he broke out in a mad giggling fit that quickly infected everyone around him. He stood in front of the hostel door with tears running down his face and mopping his eyes and still he wasn't able to stop laughing. This was the moment our perspective on the town of Portree began to turn around. We still went and drank ourselves silly, mind you, but I like to think we weren't nearly as desperate as before.