One thing we had not yet had enough of on this particular journey was downtime -- Rachel and I are good at many things, but slowing down and chilling-out don't top the list. Or even make the top ten, really.
So it was tbat on Monday we found ourselves moderately whelmed, and decided that -- instead of driving north as we'd thought we might -- we'd have a nice breakfast at our B&B, wander Lerwick, grab lunch, go to a museum, and then catch the ferry back to Edinburgh -- a leisurely day for us.
We had our third full-Scottish in a row at Alder Lodge, which was delicious, and also after two prior days of such fare, a bit -- uh, well just imagine me puffing out my cheeks and bugging out my eyes as I exhale, expressively.
Phew.
Oh, after breakfast, we did get an explanation for the mystery of the Rick and Morty art.
See, when we'd checked in, we'd found ourselves staying in a thoroughly gutted and rebuilt hotel, full of weird hallways, nooks and crannies, with an odd numbering scheme -- up the main stairwell were rooms 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, and 9, and down a separate side hallway were 5, 7, 8, 9, and up a tiny back staircase were 10-13.
We were number 11, so we did some wandering before we found it, but also on the way to our room we were a bit flabbergasted to find this incredible piece of artwork in the landing of the back stairway which led to our room.
"That's, uhh, that is Rick and Morty, right?" I had said to Rachel at the time, as we clambered up the stairs, tired after our long day of exploring.
"Yes? . . . They have to know that, right?" She agreed, with more than a note of apprehension that maybe, in fact, they did not know that.
As we were checking out, we bumped into a guy in his 20s who was the son of the owners of Alder lodge.
So, of course, I asked about the art in the back stairway.
And in a delightfully Scottish brogue he explained "ohh, yeah, see, that's my brother's and he moved out of his apartment a while back, and my parents thought it was pretty, and hung it here while he was gone, because he works at sea, and when he came back last he saw they'd hung it and said "you know you're gonna have to take that down!" "
Sometimes being a little out of touch really does a number on your decorating prowess.
Curiosity sated, we headed off, I went to try to get coffee at a little Japanese coffee place I'd seen on the way into town the day before and Rachel went to explore the local knitting shops.
Shetland is home to one of the finest (as in, most intricate patterns,with the most-narrow thread) of all knitting traditions. Shetland knit lace is mind-boggling -- shawls or bodices that take years to make, covered with lace that looks like it was made with spider silk and some sort of million-legged computer. Rachel was interested in learning about the traditions and maybe undertaking such a project someday (because of course she is) and so wanted to learn a little about where to find wool-yarn spun fine enough to make such things.
I just wanted some coffee, and Showa's storefront had reminded me of Caravan Coffee, the lovely little coffee shop in Kustatsu, the Onsen-town that I had gone to with my friends during the Japan trip I took in 2018.
Luckily for me Showa didn't open on time, so I found myself wandering the walls of Fort Charlotte, the powerfully positioned defensive fortification overlooking the sound and Bresaay island, to Shetland's eastern coast. The deep channel between Shetland and Bresaay is what makes such a good port, and so there's plenty of business harbor traffic here, and the fort was constructed to defend the area. The replica cannon apparently were maintained in a blank-firing state as late as 1999, which I found intriguing.
The whole place was remarkable, in part because the Shetland weather is damp, and cool, and there are no trees, so every scrap of lumber is imported, which means almost everything in the town center here was made of stone 100+ years ago and is maintained well. This means you can take a step, and the walls of Fort Charlotte can obscure a sign and a street full of cars, and suddenly it might as well be 1915, for all the difference you could make out from the buildings you can see.
It's magical.
Rachel found a book on the lace styles and history of the knitting industry and economy of the island, and we repaired to a lovely coffee shop called Dowry's for a couple of drinks and to while away the morning, finally taking a breath after what felt like weeks.
Drinks
Additional Drinks.
When we got hungry, we started a walk back towards where we had left the car (a free parking lot near to the Shetland Museum), intending to try a Chinese restaurant we'd seen, but we were rebuffed as it was closed for renovations, so we wandered up the street, thinking maybe to find a lunch spot near the Indian restaurant where we had grabbed dinner the night before.
Remember Showa and how I said it was lucky they didn't open in time?
These Japanese Coffeeshop vibes are 11/10.
As we passed back by the storefront, Rachel pointed out the sign had been flipped to open, and we stuck our heads in to discover that: it was, indeed, open (!) AND they served a few lunch dishes (!!) and Fluffy Pancakes (which are basically a pancake souffle) (!!!).
The sandwiches were excellent
We ordered small sandwiches for lunch, Fluffy pancakes for dessert, and Rachel had an espresso. As I had already hade a decently bracing flat white at our previous stop, I opted for a Babyccino (because who could resist ordering a thing with such a nonsensical name?) under speculation that it would either be (1) a tiny cappuccino or (2) a drink made for children who want to feel like they're drinking a grown up coffee with their parents but are too young to be allowed caffeine.
adorbs
I was absolutely thrilled to find out it was the second one. It was frothed milk with a light dusting of hot chocolate powder and a couple of tiny marshmallows on top, and it was so twee it was hard to put it to words.
The Fluffy pancakes, also, were PERFECT.
Like, damn, they were so good.
So yeah, if you ever find yourself at the crossroads of the North sea and crave a tiny slice of Japanese coffee-shop cafe, stop in at Showa. They will not disappoint.
Absurdly anachronistic lunch consumed, we headed off to the Shetland Museum.
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