şükela:  tümü | bugün
  • iskocya'nin muthi$ guzel turistik bolgesi.. (bkz: loch ness)
  • bazen iskoçya demek için de kullanılır.
  • gidip görmeyi dilediğim iskoçya'nın yüksek ve soğuk havasıyla dillere destan olmuş yeri.
  • elian donan kalesi gibi iskoç bağımsızlık hareketi için önem taşıyan yerlerin bulunduğu ve sert iklimiyle bilinen bölge.
  • (bkz: yüksekova)
  • iskocya´nin bir bölgesi. highlands turlarina katilarak kaleleri ve gölleri görebilirsiniz. glasgow´dan biraz kuzeyde baslar. gidip görmesi güzel de o kadar daglik alanda, iklim kötü, yazin gitsen bile hava soguk, bir noktadan digerine gitmek icin döndükce dönüyorsun, bilmiyorum bir yerden sonra biraz iskenceye dönüsüyor. tura katilan herkesin midesi bulaniyordu.rüzgardan ve iskoc aksaniyla durmaksizin konusan tur rehberimizi dinlemekten artik basimiza agrilar girmisti. ben cok daglik alan sevmeyen biriyim. bunun da katkisi vardir eminim, ama alplere gitmek benim icin hicbir zaman iskence olmadi. highlands oldu. ileride firsatim olursa giderim belki, ama cok da tavsiye edecegim ya da gitmezsem üzülecegim bir sey degil. bir de bunlarin yarismalari var, (bkz: highland games) #63228374.
  • içinde neil young olan bob dylan şarkısı, sözleri de şöyle:

    well my heart’s in the highlands gentle and fair
    honeysuckle blooming in the wildwood air
    bluebelles blazing where the aberdeen waters flow
    well my heart’s in the highland
    ı’m gonna go there when ı feel good enough to go

    windows were shakin’ all night in my dreams
    everything was exactly the way that it seems
    woke up this morning and ı looked at the same old page
    same ol’ rat race
    life in the same ol’ cage

    ı don’t want nothing from anyone, ain’t that much to take
    wouldn’t know the difference between a real blonde and a fake
    feel like a prisoner in a world of mystery
    ı wish someone would come
    and push back the clock for me

    well my heart’s in the highlands wherever ı roam
    that’s where ı’ll be when ı get called home
    the wind, it whispers to the buckeyed trees in rhyme
    well my heart’s in the highland
    ı can only get there one step at a time

    ı’m listening to neil young, ı gotta turn up the sound
    someone’s always yelling turn it down
    feel like ı’m drifting
    drifting from scene to scene
    ı’m wondering what in the devil could it all possibly mean?

    ınsanity is smashing up against my soul
    you can say ı was on anything but a roll
    ıf ı had a conscience, well, ı just might blow my top
    what would ı do with it anyway
    maybe take it to the pawn shop

    my heart’s in the highlands at the break of dawn
    by the beautiful lake of the black swan
    big white clouds like chariots that swing down low
    well my heart’s in the highlands
    only place left to go

    ı’m in boston town, in some restaurant
    ı got no idea what ı want
    well, maybe ı do but ı’m just really not sure
    waitress comes over
    nobody in the place but me and her

    ıt must be a holiday, there’s nobody around
    she studies me closely as ı sit down
    she got a pretty face and long white shiny legs
    she says, “what’ll it be?”
    ı say, “ı don’t know, you got any soft boiled eggs?”

    she looks at me, says, “ı’d bring you some
    but we’re out of ’m, you picked the wrong time to come”
    then she says, “ı know you’re an artist, draw a picture of me!”
    ı say, “ı would if ı could, but
    ı don’t do sketches from memory”

    “well,” she says, “ı’m right here in front of you, or haven’t you looked?”
    ı say, “all right, ı know, but ı don’t have my drawing book!”
    she gives me a napkin, she says, “you can do it on that”
    ı say, “yes ı could, but
    ı don’t know where my pencil is at!”

    she pulls one out from behind her ear
    she says, “all right now, go ahead, draw me, ı’m standing right here”
    ı make a few lines and ı show it for her to see
    well she takes the napkin and throws it back
    and says, “that don’t look a thing like me!”

    ı said, “oh, kind miss, it most certainly does”
    she says, “you must be jokin’.” ı say, “ı wish ı was!”
    then she says, “you don’t read women authors, do you?”
    least that’s what ı think ı hear her say
    “well,” ı say, “how would you know and what would it matter anyway?”

    “well,” she says, “you just don’t seem like you do!”
    ı said, “you’re way wrong”
    she says, “which ones have you read then?” ı say, “ı read erica jong!”
    she goes away for a minute
    and ı slide up out of my chair
    ı step outside back to the busy street but nobody’s going anywhere

    well my heart’s in the highlands with the horses and hounds
    way up in the border country, far from the towns
    with the twang of the arrow and a snap of the bow
    my heart’s in the highlands
    can’t see any other way to go

    every day is the same thing out the door
    feel further away then ever before
    some things in life, it gets too late to learn
    well, ı’m lost somewhere
    ı must have made a few bad turns

    ı see people in the park forgetting their troubles and woes
    they’re drinking and dancing, wearing bright-colored clothes
    all the young men with their young women looking so good
    well, ı’d trade places with any of them
    ın a minute, if ı could

    ı’m crossing the street to get away from a mangy dog
    talking to myself in a monologue
    ı think what ı need might be a full-length leather coat
    somebody just asked me
    ıf ı registered to vote

    the sun is beginning to shine on me
    but it’s not like the sun that used to be
    the party’s over and there’s less and less to say
    ı got new eyes
    everything looks far away

    well, my heart’s in the highlands at the break of day
    over the hills and far away
    there’s a way to get there and ı’ll figure it out somehow
    but ı’m already there in my mind
    and that’s good enough for now