Charles MacQuarrie holds an M.Litt in Celtic Studies from the University of Edinburgh, and a PhD in Medieval English and Celtic Language and Literature from the University of Washington.

This summer, Charles led a group of Smithsonian Journeys travelers on a tour of Scotland’s Treasures.

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During our boat trip on Loch Lomand, amid the beautiful views and smooth sailing, we approached an inlet with a famous cave. The cave of Rob Roy MacGregor, where after having been made an outlaw and forbidden from wearing his clan tartan or speaking Gaelic or even using the name MacGregor, Rob Roy held up for some 10 years. As the guide on the boat noted, next to the cave mouth someone had painted in white paint “cave.” The guide quipped that it was a wonder that the English didn’t find Rob Roy with the label right next to his hiding place. Dorinda, who had studied Latin, turned to me and the four or five of us who were outside on the top deck of the boat and said, maybe it is from Latin “cave” beware. That would make more sense.” She had a point; I told the guide about Dorinda’s joke, and he told me he was going to add it to his repetoire.

Loch Lomand in Scotland. (Photo courtesy of flickr user k4dordy.)

A few days later we were at the battlefield of Culloden, and it began to rain as we approached the gravestones that marked the place where so many MacGregors had died in the battle. Killed by vollies from English rifles as they charged over the marshy plain under orders from Bonnie Prince Charlie, who stayed safely behind the lines. The guide took us to the point where the English line had been, and told us about the artillary that the Highlanders would have been facing that day, and the rain started to pour down as if on cue. We hustled back into the exhibit building for tea, and explored the museum, listening to first person accounts of the Highland rising of 1745 read by actors from letters that have survived from the time.

The memorial cairn at the center of the battlefield of Culloden. (Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.)

When we arrived in Edinburgh, the weather was fine, and we were all delighted to move into our rooms at the George Hotel. Down the street was the tent for the Edinburgh Book Festival, and Michael Palin was reading from his new book the day after we arrived. The Fringe festival had taken over most of the rest of the city, and plays, musicians, and comics abounded. The biggest treat for most of the Smithsonian group, however, was the central event of the official Edinburgh Festival — the Edinburgh Tattoo, where drum groups from all over the world delighted us all. I heard the song:

O ye’ll tak’ the high road, and Ah’ll tak’ the low (road)
And Ah’ll be in Scotlan’ afore ye
Fir me an’ my true love will ne-er meet again
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o’ Loch Lomon’

as I walked down the Playfair steps on my way back to George Street, and I couldn’t help but think of the beauty of Loch Lomond, Dorinda’s witty comment about “cave”, and the somber dreich day on the battlefield of Culloden.

The streets of Edinburgh. (Photo courtesy of flickr user Moyan_Brenn.)

Our trip had taken us, rather like the itinerary of Robert Louis Stevenson’s “Kidnapped” into the sublime natural beauty and Gaelic culture of the Highlands, up from Oban to Skye and Inverness, and then back to the lowlands and to the national capital. We had seen so much, and we had covered so much ground, but being back in Edinburgh, at the close of our journey, there was a sense that the strands were coming together, and we had made a kind of sense out of some of the most prevalent dualities that characterize this very civilized and wild country that is English and Gaelic, Lowland and Highland, Modern and Medieval, and at least until the referendum vote in 2014, British and Scottish.

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Read more about Smithsonian Journey’s “Scotlands Treasures” tour.

Dr. Jim Zimbelman is a planetary geologist at the Smithsonian’s National Air and Space Museum where he has served as the chairman of the Center for Earth and Planetary Studies. 

This summer, Jim led a group of Smithsonian Journeys travelers on an Adventure in Iceland.

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Iceland has been called ‘the land of fire and ice’, a rather accurate short description of this unique country.  Iceland is only slightly smaller in surface area than the US state of Kentucky, yet it is one of the youngest (geologically speaking) nations in the world (the oldest exposed rocks are only about 16 million years old), and portions of the island are growing even as you read this.  The historically significant Althing (the oldest and longest running parliament in the world) was first held at Thingvellir, within a linear depression that is the still-growing boundary between the North American (to the west) and Eurasian (to the east) plates.  The two plates are separating at the stately pace of 2 to 3 centimeters (about an inch) per year, roughly the same rate as the growth of human fingernails; while not observable to the watching eye, evidence of the accumulated separation is apparent on a human timescale, where appropriately fixed markers were established on the two sides of a spreading rift.  It is this motion of the planetary plates, coupled with Iceland’s location above a deep-seated hot spot, that generates the ‘fire’ component of the country.

The Snaefellsjökull volcano from Hellnar. (Photo courtesy of wikimedia commons.)

We visited several locations throughout Iceland that typify the ‘born of fire’ aspect of its natural history.  One day we circumnavigated the huge Snaefellsjokull volcano, site of the beginning for Jules Verne’s classic ‘Journey to the Center of the Earth’, while learning what the rocks can teach us from world-renowned Icelandic volcanologist Haraldur Sigurdsson.  No day passed without seeing countless moss-covered lava flows and massive cliff faces composed entirely of volcanic rocks.  Near the Krafla volcano, we walked on a trail through the boiling pools and still-steaming rocks at the vent for the 1984 eruption, the last of a decade-long series of eruptions.  Throughout the country, hot rocks at depth heat groundwater that boils up out of the ground, as in the sudden bursts of the geyser Strokkur (adjacent to ‘Geysir’, the namesake of all geysers); geothermally heated water supplies the hot water needs of virtually the entire nation.  In southern Iceland we stopped at a farm next to the base of the Eyjafjallajokull volcano, which suddenly reawakened in 2010 (to the great consternation of air travelers throughout Europe); the farmer feared that a prolonged eruption would destroy his farm and livelihood, so with typical Icelandic foresight, he hired a videographer to document what was happening to the farm, resulting in one of the most personal and poignant  films I have seen (he is doing a reasonable business showing the film to tourists in a remodeled blacksmith shop next to the Ring Road highway).  Icelanders have learned to live with nature’s uncertainties, roll with the punches, and turn what could have been a disaster into a useful (and even profitable) enterprise.

Looking down from Solheimajokull glacier. (Photo courtesy of flickr user ian mcbride.)

On top of the volcanic bedrock of Iceland are several large ice caps (including the largest ice cap in Europe), plus numerous smaller ice accumulations on individual mountains.  These thick ice deposits feed dozens of glaciers that have carved the bedrock into U-shaped valleys.  Our group walked up onto the very snout of the Solheimajokull glacier, where the ablating ice leaves a coating of dark rocks brought down the valley by the moving ice.  The place where we reached the glacier terminus is easily a kilometer (more than half a mile) further up the valley than when I visited this same glacier in 2000; Icelanders have a ‘ring-side seat’ to the drastic reduction in glaciers currently underway across the planet.  How many years will it be before Iceland no longer has a surface accumulation of ice, which is part of its very name?  The remarkable sights and sounds of this beautiful but complex country tend to make one become reflective, and perhaps this may be a partial explanation for why the exploits of Vikings were recorded in the Icelandic sagas, among the oldest examples of European literature.  Come and find out for yourself what this country will teach you.

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Read more about Smithsonian Journeys’ Adventure in Iceland tripe here.

Italy is known for holding some of the world’s greatest masterpieces of art, culinary traditions and the ancient world. But, amongst these mighty giants are wondrous treasures that remind us that the little charms are just as magical. The island of Burano on the Venetian lagoon is just that. Just a 40 minute boat ride from Venice, Burano is a must see.

The colorful houses of Burano. (Photo courtesy of flickr user o palsson.)

Burano is an old fishing village, and the fishing traditions of Burano date back to Roman times. For most of its history, fishing was the main source of income for the island, but the number of fishermen has greatly declined over the years. However, today, you can still go to Burano and be assured that the fish you eat on the island was caught that day by local fishermen. You can also find the fish being sold daily at the historical Rialto Market in Venice. But, do not leave the island of Burano without trying the fish at one of the local restaurants. If you like fish, this may be the best fish you will ever try.

Calamari Fritti at Ai Pescatori restaurant in Burano. (Photo courtesy of flickr user HarshLight).

Fishing is, or I should say was, not the only source of income for Burano. The art of lace making has played a large role in Burano’s history. Legend has it that a betrothed fisherman out at sea was given a wedding veil by a siren, and when he gave it to his betrothed; everyone tried to replicate it with needlework. The replications became Burano lace. Burano lace making was greatly admired by the Venetian patrons and even the Royals of the world. King Louis XIV was said to be wearing a Burano lace collar for his coronation and Leonardo Da Vinci purchased a piece for the main altar of the Duomo di Milano. Lace making on the island has declined significantly since its golden age, but you can still see women sitting outside or inside the lace shops creating these beautiful textiles. Burano lace making is truly unique in that it is all 100% handmade, with extravagant designs and detail, and more than likely made by the person you see working before your eyes.

A 92 year old lace maker in Burano. (Photo courtesy of flickr user Pat Ferro.)

Besides lace making and fishing, what makes Burano different from the rest of the surrounding islands is its rainbow of houses. Though these houses are beautifully painted and look like artwork, the reason for their vivid colors is quite practical. Years ago, the fishermen painted their houses bright colors so when they were coming home in the fog, they knew whose house was whose. That said, the colors of these houses have been in families for centuries. And, if you want to change the color of your house, you have to send in a request to the government. And, if you want to buy a house on the island, good luck with that.

A row of colorful Burano houses. (Photo courtesy of flickr user kevinpoh.)

The Island of Burano is full of hidden charm, history and culture. It is truly a treasure and no surprise that it is one of the many beautiful stops on Smithsonian Journeys’ Hidden Venice trip. If you want to visit, sign up today.

Jeffrey A. Cole has led over 50 Smithsonian Journeys to Latin America since 1992, including 26 to Peru and 20 to Chile. He has taught Latin American Studies at Clark University, Tulane University, SUNY-Oswego, Cornell University, the University of Massachusetts at Amherst, and Smith College.

In the spring, Jeffrey led a group of Smithsonian travelers on a Patagonian Explorer adventure.

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For the 2012-13 season, the Patagonian Explorer journey will offer a pre-tour excursion to Iguazú Falls.  Iguazú, which in Guaraní means “big water,” is one of the must-see places in the world, and I am very pleased it is now available to Smithsonian travelers.  When Eleanor Roosevelt visited the falls, she was asked her opinion, and her response was reportedly “Poor Niagara!”

Iguazú Falls. Photo by James Elliott.

Many will remember the falls from “The Mission,” with Jeremy Irons and Robert DeNiro, which chronicles the removal of the Jesuits from the region in the seventeenth century.  Others may have seen nature programs about the swifts that live among the falls.  Whatever your inspiration, Iguazú Falls – like Machu Picchu in Perú – usually exceeds even the loftiest of expectations.

Urraca. Photo by James Elliott.

The experience is now enhanced by a network of walkways along and over the falls on the Argentine side, including one that leads to the “Boca del Diablo” (“Devils Throat”), where the volume of water and the noise it makes are impressive.  It’s also enhanced by the presence of coatíes (raccoon-like animals) and fantastic birds, including the macaw and blue-and-yellow urraca.  At the end of the day, as the sun goes down, the sound of the falls and the animals make Iguazú a very special place, and one you’ll remember fondly.

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Read more about Smithsonian Journeys’ Patagonian Explorer tour here.

John Sweets is Professor Emeritus of History, specializing in the Vichy France era, the French Resistance, and occupied France. He has taught 19th and 20th century European history at the University of Kansas, University College, Dublin (Ireland), The School of International Studies (Fort Bragg, NC), and at the Université de Franche-Comté, Besançon (France).

John recently led a group of Smithsonian travelers on a journey of France Through the Ages.

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After a copious breakfast at our hotel in Toulouse early Sunday morning, we board the bus, leaving La Ville Rose, the “Pink City,” along almost deserted streets.  Our trip today will take us to Sarlat, one of the principal cities of the Perigord, but first we will share some unforgettable experiences in the “Red City” of Albi, from which the Medieval Albigensian Crusade took its name.

In Albi’s main square two imposing structures await, the Cathedral of Ste. Cecile, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and the Archbishop’s Palace, which has been transformed into the Toulouse- Lautrec museum.

Hotel d’Assezat, Toulouse. (Photo by author.)

At first sight, the Cathedral, made entirely of brick and mortar, looks more like a fortress than a church, reminding us of its origin as a statement of the Catholic Church’s power, a symbol of overwhelming force in face of the Cathars who had challenged the legitimacy of the Roman Catholic Church and its clergy.  Then, upon entry to the cathedral, what a surprise awaits us: one of the most extraordinary churches that one could hope to see.  Not only is the nave divided by a beautifully sculpted Jube (rood screen), separating the lay people from the clergy in their chancel, as was common in the Medieval period, but the walls and ceilings are covered with remarkable paintings.  Below the organ, a fresco of the Last Judgment stretches behind the altar, painted by Flemish artists in 15^th century Italian Renaissance style.

Painted ceiling of the Chancel, Cathedral of Ste. Cecile. (Photo by author.)

The Toulouse-Lautrec museum has been renovated recently and provides a wonderful setting for the paintings of this outstanding French painter who was born in the town of Albi, and whose wealthy, aristocratic family had extensive holdings in the surrounding countryside.  The collection includes some of the painter’s earliest drawings and paintings and features his pioneering poster art, as well as lithographs, pastels and paintings from each stage of his development as an artist.  Particularly appealing are some of his finest portraits, his paintings of horses and other animals, and his especially sensitive treatment of the women of the “comfort houses” of Montmartre in Paris.

The building that houses the Toulouse-Lautrec collection, formerly the Archbishop’s Palace, is a work of art in its own right, and the palace gardens offer a backdrop for gorgeous views over the Tarn River.

View over the Tarn River from the Bishop’s Gardens, Albi. (Photo by author.)

As we leave Albi behind, we follow a small, picturesque road through the countryside of southwestern France, passing the beautiful hillside town of Cordes, perched high above the valley of the Tarn. We make our way toward the Perigord and an early evening arrival in Sarlat.

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Read more about Smithsonian Journeys’ France Through the Ages tour here.