Edinburgh

I arrived in Edinburgh (or how the natives pronounce it E-din-burrrr-ah) and got my luggage. I went out into the afternoon sun and could tell already I was going to like this magical city. I hopped on the tram to take me into town. We passed many a quaint house along the way until we finally reached my destination. I got off the tram, Google Map in hand, and walked briskly to where I needed to go; some repurposed mansion down the street from the Sir Arthur Conan Doyle House and Museum. 

I arrived at the hostel and checked in. I was shown my room and was both amazed as well as aghast. The room was an 18-topper, the most densely packed room I had ever seen on my journey. It was six bunk beds, nay bunk towers, that were three stories tall. There was no room to even sit up. It reminded me of when I was hiking the Presidential peaks in New England the lodge where I was staying had a similar set up. I was thankful I was on the middle bunk, so I would not need to sleep by everyone’s nasty shoes nor risk falling from a tremendous height. I put down and secured my things my things then headed out.

Already, I was in love with Edinburgh. It had majestic vistas countered with a very modern feel. I walked around some, had a drink, enjoyed some Chinese food accompanied by my favorite Singapore Tiger Beer. The streets were very crowded as it was the weekend of the world-famous Fringe Festival, a week-long celebration of all types of live performances. While walking, I saw a plastic wristband on the ground so I picked it up. A bouncer asked if it was mine and I said of course it was. He then motioned to me while stepping aside. Without hesitation,  I entered a cordoned-off party set up for the Festival. I walked to the bar, got a drink, and sat on a lovely couch facing Edinburgh Castle. This was not the first time I was an unquestioned interloper. I returned to a heavily populated room which had since filled and promptly went to bed. 

The next day, I arose and decided that I was going to let Mr. Steves be my guide yet again. The interesting thing about Edinburgh is that it is so mountainous. Where Edinburgh Castle sits today was a mountain that, through eons of geologic time was pushed from its apex by glaciers downhill, elongating the mountain into a gingerly declining slope for about a mile to the Royal Palace. Along this Royal Mile were all the sites of Edinburgh. Some of the highlights included a plaque to where all the witches of Edinburgh were burned, statues of David Hume and Adam Smith, and the entry of the old prison where people still spit; myself included. Why not? On my way down the hill, I ducked down one of the side streets to see the Robert Burns Museum.

Robert Burns is considered the national poet of Scotland. Born in 1759, he was part of the great line of Romantic poets. Some of his greatest hits include, “A Red, Red Rose,” “Auld Lang Syne,” and my personal favorite “To A Mouse.” He lived in Edinburgh for a time and they decided to turn his old residence into a museum. 

Back on the path, I continued on, all the way down to the Scottish parliament and to the Palace. I turned around and headed to a Starbucks to use their wifi as well as stopped and had my first ever haggis. I liked it very much.

After lunch, I had promised my old English friend, the other inadvertent, non-participant in that Florentine orgy, that I would check out her sister’s performance at Fringe Festival. Now, let me preface by saying that I am very pro-art. I think that people that perform should at the very least be given an E for Effort. Having done performances where I both soared and crashed gave me an insider’s view of how difficult it can be. That being said, while I am sure the young ladies worked very hard on it, some things got lost in translation for me. It was a show of interpretative dance regarding soccer. Not my favorite. 

After the show, I headed to The World’s End for my first authentic (and very much needed) Scotch. It got its name due to the fact that the old walls of the city ended right by its front doors. To most of the inhabitants of Edinburgh, that is where the world ended. I then walked around other parts of Edinburgh away from the Royal Mile and got some supplies for a trek I signed up for to go monster hunting in the morning.

The next day, after having a very lovely dream, I awoke and had a heart attack that I could not find my luggage key. I consoled myself that it would turn up.The stressful morning continued when three Ubers canceled on me to take me to my tour. Finally, one showed up and raced me over to the jump-off point. The driver showed up 15 minutes late, but that was OK. I hopped in the front seat as I was solo. Our tour guide was a black Scotsman named Tully. While I would have loved to have a little nap, Tully talked and talked and talked. We stopped at a tourist trap along the roadside filled with Scottish kitch. There were some Highland cows that were very cute and shaggy. Due to the fact  I was in and out of the rest stop, I was actually in the van when another backed right into it. When Tully got back, I told him because it did not look like the other driver was going to leave a note or anything. We continued along our journey and soon we were up in the Scottish Highlands. We stopped at Loch Tully (no relation) for photos as well as the mountain range known as the Three Sisters where there was a gentleman playing his bagpipes. We then continued on to Fort Arthur on Loch Ness.

Loch Ness is about 22 square miles of freshwater but it is world-famous, obviously, for the mythical creature that supposedly lives there lovingly abbreviated to Nessie. The first account of the monster was in 565 AD in the words of Saint Columba written by Adomnán when a story was shared about a man that was dragged underwater and drowned by a huge “water beast.” The sightings continued throughout the centuries until the famous “Surgeon’s Photograph” in 1934, which claimed to have photographic evidence of the beast. 

Since it was lunchtime and we had some free time, I went and had some haggis. I then trespassed on the Highland Club lawn to get to the water and found a quiet and serene spot. I stayed as long as I could but got nervous as there were people practicing archery at the club without a net and I was standing downrange. I then headed back towards the van. I stopped in a little souvenir shop to pick up a postcard of Nessie the Loch Ness monster for my nephews and then got on the van.

The ride home was very annoying. Like a lot of places on my journey, there were Americans. I understand that a lot of young people do not share my particular brand of politics. But, what I do not understand, is how freely they put down their home country. When asked where they are from, a lot reply by saying, “America. Sorry.” Saying how awful the United States is and how wonderful it would be if the president were to die violently is not only incorrigible but utterly insane. Before I left Edinburgh, I was soon to get a lesson as to why America was unqiue in the world. I kept to myself the rest of the ride, even when we stopped for whiskey ice cream. We headed home and I dropped my stuff and headed out for a drink but was too tired. I went back to the hostel bar for a Scotch, two fingers of Highland 12.  

I slept in the next morning for a bit, until 8 AM, where I promptly rolled over onto my luggage key. Huzzah. I headed downstairs and made a lovely breakfast of things that people left behind. On my way to the city, I ducked into the church just down the street from me to gather some thoughts and have a respite. I then went to the popular European discount store TK (?) Maxx for some underwear and socks. Next, I headed to Edinburgh train station to enquire about my ticket to my next location. Starting midway down the Royal Mile, I stopped in the Edinburgh Poetry Library to read “To A Mouse” by Robert Burns. I then headed to Arthur’s Seat.

One of the things I liked about Edinburgh was its proximity to nature. At the end of the Royal Mile was a path that lead to another mountain, a now dormant volcano, that flanked the city, Arthur’s Seat. I followed a few other hikers, scaled the mountain, and just took in the breathtaking vista of the city and the sea. While it was a little windy, cloudy, and cold, it was amazing.

Building up quite the hunger, I headed back to The World’s End for a lunch of haggis and potato pie. An older group of Scots was sitting next to me when I ordered, obviously knowing I was not from around these parts. One of the men from the group asked if I knew what a haggis. I looked at him incredulously and replied that it was the ground insides of a sheep. He said no, it is an ugly woman with one leg shorter than the other. He laughed as well as his whole table and I laughed too. He informed me I was correct and asked how I liked it. I told him it was great and said that after eating bugs in Cambodia, little phases me regarding food now from animals with four legs. They all laughed. I paid my bill, said goodbye to my new friends, then headed back to the hostel to relax for a bit. 

However, I had to stop at what was possibly one of the coolest bars I had ever seen. And having cut my teeth in New Orleans, that was saying something. Much like I mentioned how Edinburgh was a mountain that was elongated, infrastructure was created to take people from practically sea level up hundreds of feet and these stairs were no different. About halfway down the stairs was The Devil’s Advocate. It was a classic yet trendy bar with a lot of wooden fixtures and bartenders that really knew their stuff. I sat down and asked for the Scotch menu. I went through it and asked for a recommendation. The bartender rattled off each of the whiskeys on the list from memory explaining their pedigrees. I went with two different recommendations and was not disappointed. He brought them out and even had a water dropper so that I could add just the right amount of water to it, should I have chosen to. 

I arrived back at the hostel, but the internet was awful so I could not do any work. I then made a free dinner and headed back out to walk the Royal Mile again. I had never been at night and it was amazing. So much energy. I fell more in love with magical Edinburgh every time walked its streets. No wonder J.K. Rowling wrote Harry Potter here. 

When I got back, I needed to warm up a little, so I had another Scotch at the bar and chatted with the bartender/hostel proprietor. He seemed like a nice guy. I then went upstairs and went to bed. 

The next day, I woke up and headed down for breakfast. When I sat down, there was an older lady there who was having some tea. I asked if I could join her. Her name was Lee. We started talking and she shared that she hated the EU and frankly, London. Given the politics of Scottish Independence and Brexit, London was using soft power to keep the voting base in check by screwing with her pension. That was the reason she was in the hostel as she could no longer afford her house. She started asking questions about America and was the first person in Europe I had met that was very pro-Trump. She asked me to explain why some American people were pushing for slave reparations. I did my best to explain it as diplomatically as I could. She then shared a story that I would never forget. Lee said she was a “Lost Baby.” I did not know what the term meant. She said that it meant that when her mother was 16, she was forced by the Irish Catholic church to give her up and was then promptly “adopted” by the highest bidder. In some cases, “Lost Babies” ended up in America (ask Supreme Court Chief Justice John Roberts about it) or other parts of the Commonwealth. Her point was, where were her reparations? This actually happened to her, not her ancestors. She then talked about her son that got a college degree in Scotland but could not find enough suitable work. This was due to still being in the EU, and there were only 4 day weeks as EU workers made up the rest of the workforce. She said that he was doing construction in Australia. She then said that after she got in touch with her biological father and at 90, he moved to Africa to retire as he was fed up with Europe, but they stole all his money.

Mind thoroughly blown, I looked at my phone and realized that I needed to go catch my train. I thanked Lee for the conversation, gave her a hug, then grabbed my stuff and headed to the train station. I found my train and before I knew it, I was on my way to Glasgow.