A Psychogreographical Look at Camden Town

“It's survival in the city, When you live from day to day, City streets don't have much pity, When you're down, that's where you'll stay” The Eagles.

Once you think you know and understand London, you travel 40 minutes on the underground and end up in some obscure place with a completely different lifestyle. In Kensington everyone is rushing. What’s the big rush?

I decent down the dark, damp, mouse infested tunnels to board on the Piccadilly Line. In the circular gloomy tunnel I walk with the swarm of people that alighted the lift with me. We twist, turn, walk down some more stairs until we are at the lowest point of London. The windy tunnel pushes the stale air in your nose and mouth and fills your lungs. Shove your way onto the packed train towards Cockfosters, and you’re off. Please mind the gap, and don’t get caught in the doors or you’ll get a bruise.

Sitting in the tube is an unpleasant way of passage, if you even get a seat. It squeals and hisses, tugs and pulls while the different trains criss and cross in the underground network. The person next to you seems to get closer with every breath you take. You step back, and they move with you. You are one body now. What is that smell?

At last, Kings Cross, the metropolis of trains. It is time to switch and go north to Camden Town. I’m going to the market, where I have never been before. I’ve heard many great things, but it’s taken me until now to explore it.

I alight at Camden Town and immediately realize I am not in Kensington or anything like it anymore. Instead of perfectly tailored suites and loafers, there are dread locks, jeans, hemp hoodies, leather, chains, and boots. This is urban. This is Camden Town. I walk down Camden High Street and am bombarded by shop keepers selling me their wares. I don’t need any trinkets or clothes sir, thank you though. ‘Get a piercing here, love, we will give you a discount.’ He directs me to an ally and I just keep walking. I do not need a piercing here, especially not in an ally, from some random guy in Camden.

Walking on, I pass hemp shops and hookah bars. The thick white smoke streams lazily out of their client’s noses and rises to the dark sky.  The shops are filled with dull indolent colors that decorate their shirts, bags, and posters. People here are friendlier, not like other parts of London. The pace of life is slower in Camden. People are here to enjoy themselves. There are smiles on their faces and looks of content.

I press on down the dimly lit street with strung Christmas lights and a couple random street lamps. I crossed Regents Canal and saw Camden Lock Market. It looked brilliant. I couldn’t resist the allure of this infamous market place. Trying to cross the Regent Canal Bridge with all the traffic was nearly impossible. Waiting, waiting, waiting while these cars speed over the tiny, made for one bridge. Zoom, zoom, zoom, red car, white lorry, yellow car, black cab, motorcycle, air pollution.

There were booths of every sort. Jewelry sparkled in small string of lights that was above them, while the smell of leather bound books wafted through the air. Mulled wine and crepes were on every other corner creating a heavenly Christmas smell in the entire area.

As I walked deeper into the market, the more unique and alternative the shops became. Metal Militia was filled with shirts of every metal band you could think of. Metallica, AC/DC, Pantera, Megadeth, Slayer. It is was a British Hottopic. So this is where all the alternative excitement is. In a city as big as London, there had to be a punk section. This is it!

Has this always been alternative? Banksy’s art is on every shirt, poster or iPhone cover. This area smells of rebellious anti-government youth. Ones that cry “Come you masters of war, you that build all the guns, you that build the death planes…I can see through your mask”. The IRA guy throws his bouquet of flowers into the next market section.

Camden town market is forever laid out to be a giant labyrinth, ultimately leading you to Cyberdog. Neon lights, motherboards, and cyborg contacts fill this rave store in Camden Town. It is hard to avoid. The lights draw you in.

Keep walking. Walk past the pale man covered in piercings with dark thick hair that drapes down his back past the hem of his black leather jacket. Keep walking. Walk past the food stands that offer you free samples. Walk past the other that sell some sort of cooked up cat and dog. Are you sure that is chicken?

How do you leave? Where is the exit for this maze? Did someone make this plan? Creating this mess of a market as confusing as possible so you cannot escape. You are doomed to stay and spend all of your money. I think it is a strategy. Without all of these stalls and booths there would be nothing. Would it be a big open car park?

After I while I found my way out of the market, and I walked back down high street to get back to the underground. While I was on the tube I reflected upon everything that I had just seen. Camden is nowhere near similar to Kensington yet they are hardly 5 miles apart.  The differences between the two are immense. People in Camden were real. 

Just Me and My Dad: York

Dad and I arrived in York pretty late in the evening. We passed a few B&B’s, not sure which one to try to get a room in. We drove around York, puzzlingly lost for quite sometime until I told him to just pull over, and I will go ask someone. After running around York on foot, I got some rather good information which told us to go  here, there, and to this street with lots of B&Bs on it. So we head out of town in our little stupid polo, and end up passing the street with the B&Bs. By now, we are both a little on edge and nervous to not find anywhere to sleep! (Since all the hotels and other Inns we tried were booked full!). We approached a ‘hotel’ on the right side of the road and I said “Stop stop stop stop stop, we are going here!!!”. So we stopped, and got the last room in the Beachwood Close Hotel.

Dad was tired, and didn’t really feel like exploring, but I forced him to go out, since it was only 8pm. We had a beer downstairs at the hotel’s bar and had a conversation with the owner! He was a nice, well informed old man with lots of fun facts. Did you know… It is illegal to kill or shoo a cat in the city walls of York. Richard III loved cats and gave them freedom to do as they please in York.  In the city of York it is legal to murder a Scotsman within the ancient city walls, but only if he is carrying a bow and arrow, or is it if he is wearing a kilt? And not on Sundays! AND Guy Fawkes is from York, and to honor… or respect the idiot that came out of their town, it is illegal to hold any bonfires within the city of York. Hahahaha!

Anyway, we took a cab up to the gates near the pubs and inns that I found while exploring for a B&B. The Guy Fawkes in was our first stop! It was dimly lit with only a few real lights and some tall wax candles dripping on the floor and bar. There was a guy playing guitar there that night… Gypsy Bill perhaps? Dad claimed to not really want to listen to someone playing a really loud guitar but I couldn’t get him to leave after we had a drink. Hahaha. It was a lot of fun and dad loved the dragon something bitter ale.

After I dragged dad away from the Guy Fawkes Inn, we went to another pub just down the way. That was where I got such good directions to find a room. So we had another beer there, sitting next to their nice warm fireplace! This place had a very different atmosphere from the Guy Fawkes, but it was still a wonderful place in its own! Once again, dad had some sort of bitters and I don’t remember the name since I am writing this a month after it happened (stupid term papers getting in the way).

On our way back to the B&B we stopped at the Three Legged Mare (where the owner of the B&B said to go). It was not nearly as cool as the pubs I chose, but that is because I am just too brilliant at pub choosing. The beer here that we chose wasn’t very good either. So, we left about half in our cups and departed. Leaving some is better than getting sick eh!?

The walk back took about 30 minutes maybe. We saw a black cat in the street who zig zagged in front of us about 3 times… Then he just wanted to be petted, so I petted him J

The next day, we got up, hardly. I tried to take a shower but I couldn’t get the water hot, and it kept having high pressure and low pressure. Spaztastic shower. It must have been haunted.

Breakfast was great, as usual. I ate the beans again!

Then I wanted a nap, but instead we went to explore the city! It was such an amazing place! We started at the TI, then made our way to the York Minster. I thought dad wanted to tour it, and dad thought I wanted to tour it, but really, neither of us really wanted to pay to go in and look around! So I called us out on our bluffs and we exited the line (after absorbing the high vaulted ceilings and brilliant stained glass windows, of course).

We moseyed along York and ended up at the Shambles, exactly where I wanted to go. It was so cool! The buildings were so old, the street tiny, and unfortunately it was almost shoulder to shoulder of people. The shops were very cute though and dad bought mom a glass that was fashioned from a bottle of Banks Bitters.

After the Shambles we went to the ‘currency exchange’ where I explained to dad that he will always get ripped off about 10% at these places and you should just pull money out of the bank’s atm. I hate the exchange places. I think they are rubbish. Anyway, we then went to Vodaphone and got me a new little voda. This time it was a Samsung candy bar burner phone! This came in sort of handy while we were about our travels over the next week, even though it drops calls like no body’s business.

After that we made our way to the York Castle Museum. It was like walking through a time machine, quite literately. I really liked the area that was designed to be an old Victorian style town. It was fun. Especially for a historian. Hehe.

Before we ate dinner/lunch we went on a walk on the old historic city walls of York. They completely surround the city and its basically a footpath now. That was fun! But the wind was brutal and I thought it was going to blow me off the wall, since there was not really fencing the entire way… there was only a fence to keep you from falling at certain points where it would be very dangerous for you to fall, like the street or water. But most of it was only a 6 foot drop to some luscious looking grass.

Yo Sushi was the lunch destination since every other place was either typically greasy fish and chips, or ridiculously overpriced anything.  Although, after we devoured almost everything the chef put on the conveyer belt, we did not end up saving much money. Ever since we came to London when I was younger, I have wanted to eat at Yo Sushi because it just seemed cool! You just grab a plate off the conveyer belt that runs along all the booths and bars of the restaurant, then you are charged by the color of your plate. It was pretty tasty. We had a couple rogue items of course, but overall it was good. Later however, we both got severe stomach aches. Boo.

We decided to take a cab back to the hotel since it was cold and starting to spit that pesky English mist again. We got in our little black polo and went off again down the M1, this time headed to THE SOUTH. 

PS: Have you ever read the "Little Critter" books? That's where I get my title. Childhood was such a blissful place. 

Just Me and My Dad: The Wall

After much long anticipation and excitement, my father arrived at Heathrow Airport Terminal 4. I trudged along Gloucester Road around 8 in the morning, stumbled into Starbucks, chatted to a really friendly gal behind the counter, got my coffee and croissant and trudged to the station. The Piccadilly line was rather desolate this morning, for that I was thankful. The night before I was up late with too much excitement to sleep. I drew a sign to hold at the airport that said "DA" with a inky British Flag in the background. It was quite dashing but I forgot to hold it with all the confusion of finding the proper terminal and door. While I was waiting I ran and got a coffee at Costa for dad, as he had requested upon his arrival. Americana, black. Disgusting watered down expresso. My only complaint about the actual coffee customs here is that they serve everything with regular old milk. Why not cream? Half and half? Something a little more substantial. 

Seeing my old man walk through the big doors with his black 6 nations rugby shirt, cargo pants, salt and pepper beard and (my) over-sized luggage covered in horses and another normal black bag was a sight that I had dreamed of for weeks! After we greeted each other we made our way to the bus that would take us to the rental card place. It was funny to see dad slightly askew on the public transportation bus, since it was bouncy and head jerking. I stayed rather still, but he was all over the place. I guess being on public transportation almost daily for a few months will give you 'sea legs'. 

The woman at the Hertz counter was delightfully friendly. She was from Glasgow and was interested to hear about my trip to Edinburgh. After she pointed us north on the M1, we headed out of the building to find out car in spot 22. The Volkswagen Polo was adorable! It took a few minutes to figure out how to pop open the hatchback, but we got it. We got loaded after fits of giggles when dad went to the wrong side of the car. Driving was intense. 

This little Polo had a tight gear box, a steering wheel on the right side of the car, and poor visibility. But it did have good gas mileage. We zipped along the M1, getting passed by everything from motorcycles to lorries. But we didn't care. There was no hurry for us this day. We were just happy to be spending time with each other as we laughed at the cows that we drove by. We joked about how mom would have honked the horn at the cows, and wanted to stop to look at the sheep. 

It was not terribly difficult to know if we were going in the proper direction, as the big overhead road signs clearly stated we were going to "THE NORTH". Good grief, Winter is Coming? Where are the wolves anyway? We merged left off the motorway a couple times to get a drink or go potty, but we stopped for lunch outside Nottingham. Good thing I didn't have to walk to Nottingham... (Hiss, you know from Robin Hood?) We drove by Sherwood Forest, and didn't get to stop. But during our search for lunch, we drove through a few small villages, and wandered around until we found a cute pub. 

The pub was all the charming in this small little town that doesn’t get many American visitors. While I was in the loo, dad walked up to the bar, and the classic old man staring into his cup wondering where his life went said the usual “hey how are ya?”. Dad replied “Im great, how are you?” and the old man sat up right real quick and said “Jesus Christ!!! Now that’s one hell of an accent!” At any rate, the woman tending bar said that the kitchen was closed (even though there was more than one sign that stated it should be open) they just do as they please around here then. Anyhow, we had a beer each as not to be rude. I had a Carling but was slightly nervous drinking the whole pint on what was now an empty stomach… plus dad’s driving in England. He had to help me finish it a bit. He enjoyed one of the local ales and we went on our slightly more laughable way.

The drive to the restaurant we were directed to was filled with hoots and laughter since the drink was strong. But we made it there alive and divulged into a steak and ale pie with peas and chips. It was a great meal! They also had wifi, so we called mom to let her know we were both alive.

Then we made for the north again.

After sleeping for 5 hours, traveling with my dad, and having a belly full of pie and ale, it was really difficult to stay awake for the rest of the drive. Every time I got quiet dad would say “Heeeey now!!! I have jet lag and I am still going, don’t leave me hanging!” So I would stay awake. Then get quiet “Noooooo jozi you wake up!” So I would blabber on about things I have learned, information that is irrelevant to normal people but treasured by me and my father.

At the next rest stop we decided we should probably book a place to stay that night, as it was getting dark and lord only knows where we were going to sleep. After some speculation and careful consideration to location and price, I booked a room at the Castle Bar Hotel in Bishop Auckland. (The town where the Bishop of Durham Cathedral lives/lived)

Once it got dark it started to rain. Driving in the dark, rainy, wrong side of the road would be cause for concern but my dad is a warrior! We only got honked at twice, and almost got side swept once in a roundy. We made it to the hotel with my crappy navigational skills by 8 or 9pm. The place was really quite nice and the town was adorable. The Castle Bar Hotel was really quite deserted for a Saturday night, so it made me suspicious. Was the food bad? Do they have ghosts? Is the service mean? Well, the food was delicious, we had a salad and some bread and other fiddles. During dinner a football team was there and they were gearing up for their match tomorrow. Their coach was inebriated but really friendly when he was talking to us in his drunken Newcastle accent. You couldn’t understand a word the man was saying but we stood there, agreed, and nodded. There was a ghost, Mary, who haunted the upstairs where we were staying, but she was supposedly a friendly ghost so nothing bad happened. Just the erry something standing on your chest feeling. What, you don’t get that? Must be a gypsy thing. The service was great, the women that worked there were super friendly.

We found out why it was deserted. At 11pm, there was a Halloween party. This was probably the biggest party this small town sees all year. So to say the least dad did not get to sleep until about 2 or 3 once the party moved outside or died.

The room was comfortable though and I slept like a baby since I was used to annoying noise outside. The shower was epic. The space was incredible compared to the tiny, rather dirty shower I use in London. So I took a long hot shower. I won’t talk about how dad blew up the toilet though. And I won’t talk about how he blew up every toilet from the wall, to London, to Waterloo…

We had breakfast brought up to our room and I ate my entire meal. I have never eaten that much breakfast since I have been in this country. I ate all the beans, all the sausage, all the bread, all the tomatoes. I ate all the mushrooms and everything else on my plate EXCEPT the black pudding. I didn’t even humor that idea after the haggis incident. Dad had a bite of his I think, but didn’t really like it. Shocking. He ate quite a bit for breakfast which is surprising because he usually doesn’t eat much at all for breakfast.

We loaded our bags up again, and headed out. Trying to get out of the awkward car park was a challenge. It was actually a carwash as well, so there was a woman waiting to get her car washed (in the rain) while we were trying to back out. She made no effort to scoot out of the way. But anyhow, in due time, we made our way out of the lot and onto the road.

The drive that morning was one of the most beautiful and enjoyable drives of my life. We drove through Northumberland. Over hills and through valleys, past cows and sheep that mom would love. We chased a rainbow for hours until we were practically underneath it. Have you ever seen a rainbow’s end? Have you ever seen a rainbow so bold you can hardly see through it? We hadn’t until then. We pulled off the road at certain lookout points and just watched the nature and snapped some pictures. The beauty of this land is immense and goes on for what seems like forever.

The wall snuck up on us in our drive, we arrived in a small town that had tiny little roads so we knew it was ancient.  We were not sure if we should stop there or keep going. We kept going. We turned left and drove along and I was looking around at the landscape and I said “Hey dad… I think we are driving on the wall”. He hesitated, observed the landscape and said “Holy Crap, we really are!” Then the nerding started. I poked his arm repeatedly like a child and said “Dad! Dad! Dad! You’re at the wall! Youre here! Here, at the wall! Hadrians Wall! The Roman one!” We laughed then fell silent again and just started out the windows at the wall and the Northumberland lands.

We went on to one of the Roman forts that had been dug up and identified. This place was sweet! You could walk through the remnants of everything. At the barracks I walking in about half of the doorways to the rooms and said “Hi, Im Jozi, How are you?” and walked out. We walked down further and found the gates to the fort, and to the other side of the wall basically! We walked down to the river and found the bathhouses and bridge that cross the swiftly flowing river. This thing could suck you in even if you were standing 10 feet back on the bank. Swoosh!

It started to do that annoying thing that the weather does in England, mist. It doesn’t really rain, it just mists and sometimes the mist gets fatter. It really just depends. But classically, it started to mist so we went back to the museum and poked around at the artifacts. There were a couple skulls, some weapons, bowls, and a shoe, etc. It was kids day or something so there was a million and five children running around. But in the museum a guy (that worked there) was telling the kids an interactive story about a Roman man that would have lived there. It was so cute! It was basically what I want to do when I grow up. Teach kids history in a way that they like it and find it cool. So I eaves dropped like a creep and then we exited.

In the gift shop/exit, dad stopped and talked to some girl about things to do in the area and such. She recommended some places to go in York once we got there, and all sorts of things so that was cool to talk to her, but she sort of droned on forever and I was ready to go. Dad and I took off for the next place, but ended up passing it and not turning around.

Up the road was the Twice Brewed Inn, and we were hungry for lunch! So we went in this old pub to get some chow. It was Sunday and I had been wanting to try a ‘traditional Sunday roast’. Good thing we split the roast beef because it was a giant meal. It was so good though! It had carrots, some strange vegetable, some other lettuce like veggie, Yorkshire pudding (which is basically a pot of gravy in a little bread bowl/pot), roast beef and mashed potatoes. Holy cow it was epic. We had tea and sticky toffee pudding to finish up. By the time we were done eating we were thawed out from the cold British misting elements.

So we made our way back the way we came in our little black VW polo. Vroom vroom. We made it Halsteads Fort or something like that, I don’t remember the name and I am too lazy to take the postcard off my bulletin board to see what it was really called. It was really sweet though. This fort was about 5 times bigger than the other one. Although this one was quite a walk off from the road.

On the walk down the hill into a small valley, and then back up another hill to the fort, of course it was filled with sheep. I attempted to pet one but they just are not very friendly little turds, are they? So then I decided to herd them with my arms. (swoosh swoosh like I was a bird trying to fly) they moved like I was a real shepherd! I would consider it a win.

Once we got to the fort, we were once again frozen by the elements, luckily there was another shop and museum up there. We went and thawed off and read some rubbish bulletins about the fort. Ok, it wasn’t rubbish at all, it was really cool. Dad got a prize for my little brother and some post cards. They also had these little pins that said “History Matters” and I asked if they were for sale and he guy said “well not really, we are just giving them to the kids today, but you can have one if you want”. So I took one hehe, because I am a nerd and a child. Dad got one as well!

We wandered around this chilling fort, the misting had stopped but the wind picked up and tried to throw me off the wall as I stood on the edge of the empire. It was slightly epic once we got to the ‘wall’ end of the fort because if you are a historian, you can just imagine them building the wall and looking out over there… “Tacitus, beyond this wall lies barbarians!” Dad and I basked in the history of the wall for quite a wall just enjoying ourselves with a stupid grin on our faces.

We headed back to the car after herding the sheep on the way back. We dethawed in the car for a few minutes then began driving back to York. As the road got darker, and the mist got fatter, I drifted to sleep.  

Pure Dead Brilliant Scotland

Preface: When you read this blog, I expect you to pronounce the word Edinburgh as Ede-in-Burra, nothing less will suffice. Also, don't forget that you can click on pictures to enlarge them! 

I drug my bag along the street, over the cobbles, down to the tube, to Kings Cross, over the footbridge to platform 0 where the train to Edinburgh waited for another 8 minutes before it’s journey began.

Julia and Ayanna are my travel companions on this journey to the north. As the train tugs along north of the wall the scenery gets better and the girls sleep on. At the station, we met another girl, Beatrice from Brazil who will be joining us on our adventure. Ayanna asked me one question about Scotland before we left, “They don’t really wear kilts still do they?”. My answer: Oh yes dear, they certainly do.

The train north was nice until the weird sisters woke up and started cackling like they were the only ones in the cabin. I’ve never heard people laugh so loud. It is deemed rude to be so loud, by my standards, considering people are trying to nap on this train. At least it was laughter and not crying or shouting.

We have discovered that the trip we paid for with Anderson Tours is basically just the train tickets and hotel… the ghost tour was not included in the 189 pounds. Alas, we will make this a good trip on our own. Especially with a wonderful tour guide like me, trained by the best, my father.

I look out the window on the left to see a vast lake of crystal glass cut off by the rugged mountains of Scotland. The green countryside is broken up by small stone walls and little cottages. The occasional field is flooded with white specks that will provide warm woolen sweaters. The trees here don’t change like they do in America. They are speckled with yellow and orange leaves mixed in with the green; they fall before the whole tree is painted with the sunset. It is a different kind of beauty here; the unkempt grass that grows, turns gold and blows in the wind has an appeal over the straight short cut green lawns of Suburbia USA. 

My sequence of thought is interrupted by the Scottish accent over the loud speaker of the train. “We are approaching Edinburgh, don’t forget all of your belongings.”As we unloaded from the train a man was standing in front of us. His shoes had a shiny black gloss that went over the oxford pattern. Cream colored socks went up to his knees with a small dagger slipped in the side of his right leg. A white shirt was tucked into the green, blue and red plaid kilt which situated under the traditional black furry bag that the Highlanders wore. His outfit was a perfect introduction to his trip. Ayanna’s question was answered for certain now.

He was friendly and quick to start conversation in any language he thought you might speak. This Scot could speak Hindi, English, Portuguese, Spanish and probably some other language. After a while, the switching of the languages was annoying. Alas, we did have people from Brazil, Mexico and India in our group. We tugged our bags off the platform, up an escalator, over a footbridge, and onto the street. A big coach was waiting for us. The coach took us around the city while the Scottish man told us stories of Edinburgh (Ed-in-Burra).

We got to the Holyrood Palace and stopped for lunch. This palace is the Scottish residence of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II. She is such a nice German lady. I left the group and started walking up the Royal Mile by myself in search of Studio XIII, where I had an appointment to get my tattoo finished. Brian grew up in Amsterdam and was raised by a Native American dad and Dutch mom. He’s lived and worked all around the world, and ended up in Edinburgh where he was destined to draw 4 tiny trinities on my back. The studio was two floors. The first floor was reception and one tattoo station. The entrance and reception walls were covered in every sort of art imaginable. There wasn’t a spot left on the wall for a tack. A neat-o Slayer poster stood out to me and made me think of my fiancé back home. He would have loved that, but it was cartoonish, which is a small talent that I have. It wouldn’t be difficult to recreate.

After a small consultation and panic, Brian drew my trinities properly and lead me down to his inking area. He was done in 20 minutes or less. He talked about his life, where he had lived, and how he loves Los Angels the most. He droned on about horror films and scary shows on TV. Being the second person to recommend doing an Edinburgh ghost walk, I decided it was going to happen.

I wandered around outside on the street before deciding to take a cab. Edinburgh cab drivers are 5,000x friendlier than the ones in London. This cabby spoke to me about my studies, travels, and tattoo. “Yer braever thane meh, that’s fer sure” said he when I told him I just got it done. He dropped me off at the hotel where I found the other girls. We decided we would go out to a museum, dinner, and out. Since it was insisted on the we take a bus (against my recommendation since we don’t know this city, let alone it’s bus routes) we arrived at the incorrect museum and it had 30 minutes until it closed, as well as the one we were supposed to go to. So instead of going to the Museum of Edinburgh, we went to the National Museum of Scotland, which was fine by me since I am Captain History. We wandered around the museum for 25 minutes. My favorite finding was the 15^th -18^th century torture devices. Edinburgh had a lot of witches, you know. This Guillotine has seen over 150 deaths.

After the museum we 4 wandered around aimlessly and decided to remain doing that until we found a place to eat, once we got hungry that is. We ran into The Elephant House, which is where JK Rowling starting writing the Harry Potter books! It was the weirdest place I've been to for coffee. There were elephants everywhere, in all shapes and sizes. We stopped and had an espresso and cookie... neither was very good unfortunately  and the waiter was a bit rude... so anyhow we pressed on.

 I was told to stop and watch the street shows, as they are usually very good, so we did just that. We saw bagpipes in front of the City Cambers. Next to St. Giles Cathedral there was a man playing his guitar and singing “hallelujah”. We went over and listened to him for a while. He had to stop because the trash pick up truck was being rude. What rubbish. (lol, I went there: pun) We chatted with him a bit about ourselves, and he said he’ll sing us the best love song just as soon as this truck left. We hung around a bit, and at last he could start his song. Lineal Richey’s I’m Glad You Stayed. It was so cute! I didn’t understand the song at first because I live under a rock and didn’t know it. But once the end came around and the chorus “I’m so glad you stayed”, it was so appropriate and adorable. We tipped him, and began to go on our way when he said “Might I recommend a place for you to go to supper tonight?” He told us to go to the Green Market and go to Mamma’s Pizzaria.

We did! It was great pizza, but the aftermath was rude. We won’t talk about it. We will talk about the best beer I have had in the UK since I have arrived. Three Hops is a Lager brewed in Edinburgh and it was perfect. The picture here describes my emotions when I tasted it better than I can. I was shocked at the delightfulness.

We continued to wander around Edinburgh, up and down the narrow haunted allies and narrow streets. This ancient city was full of wonder and excitement. JK Rowling wrote Harry Potter in this city and it was no wonder how crazy her imagination could get. The city itself was a real life Hogwarts. You could feel the magic in the air with the city’s medieval aura.

The next day we woke early, had breakfast and went to 60 High Street where Haggis Adventures was situated. We arrived way too early, and had a bit of a rocky start to the morning. Eventually we boarded the bus with mostly men on the Whisky Adventure Tour. Our guide was a girl called Angela who told us stories of William Wallace who was not a Highlander and certainly did not wear a kilt, Rob Roy McGregor who was the best swordsman in Scotland and a cow thief who shamed his name so terribly it was banned in Scotland. His kinsmen changed their names to colors, so if you know someone whose surname is a color, they are most likely descendant from the Scottish Clan: McGregor. Rychele, I’m sorry, I don’t trust you around my cows anymore.

We drove by deep blue Lochs and rustic mountains. Sometimes it was hard to define where the mountains ended and clouds began, they blended themselves together in the sky. We came upon the Wallace Monument which is the biggest monument dedicated to one man (without religious affiliation) in the entire world! The Scottish love William Wallace and Robert the Bruce, who by the way, did not actually betray Wallace… Stupid Braveheart making up lies. 

We hiked up the giant hill that the monument is situated on within 10 minutes, took pictures of this giant building, scurried in the giftshop and back outside. It was 8 quid to get in the tower and go up it, but I had hiked enough for the morning, and only had 15 minutes left there so I opted out. I regret not buying a certain coffee mug that I found in the gift shop there, it was a Scottish flag and it was the best one I saw the entire trip. Oh well.

The next stop was to see Hamish the Scottish Cow thing. It was all shaggy and smelled like cow. He was pretty cool and had a few friends with him. The view from his pen was pretty spectacular; he is a lucky cow thing. Next stop was the Whisky Distillery! This was not included in the 30 pounds we paid to go on this adventure with Angela. So we coughed up another 7 quid to go tour the distillery, which in the end was well worth the money. We got 2 tastings in the end as well. I may or may have not gotten my ole dad a birthday gift here.

We made our way to a remote area where the guide took us down a park path and to a beautiful waterfall! Scotland is so beautiful with all sorts of natural magnificence. I can only imagine how many people before we walked along this path to look at this waterfall. Do you think Romans did? I couldn’t tell you.

Why is it I can write three pages about 24 hours in Scotland but I can’t squeak out one for a paper? Sheesh.

After the wilderness exploration we went to Dunkeld, a small Scottish village with a great Cathedral. Angela pointed us on the path that would take us to the cathedral. As we approached you could hear a faint musical note in the air. Closer and closer the bagpipes got louder. The only way to listen to the bagpipes is in Scotland in the air and tucked into the hills. The notes float through the air like they belong there and own the country. We got to the cathedral only to see that there was a wedding about to begin. The bridesmaids were dressed in black and gold while the groomsmen wore the Highlander outfit of course. There was not sight of the bride of course. As to not disturb, I moved around away from the wedding party towards the river that flowed by the cathedral. The bridge and sunset were a sight to behold. I don’t think there was a moment I was unimpressed here.

Once we got home we wandered around looking for dinner which was difficult because we couldn’t agree on a place. I insisted a pub because I needed to try traditional Scottish food while I am here. I will not eat pizza or Chinese while I am in Scotland, it’s a sin in my book to not experience the culture of food! So we go to the Castle Arms which, obviously, is situated right by the castle. After a mental and out loud debate on whether or not to order the Haggis, Tatties and Napes, I did. When the food arrived it was not as I had expected, it looked carefully prepared and very formal. I glanced up and noticed the couple next to me were staring at my plate. I looked at the man and he said "What is that?", I told him it was haggis and a comical look of disgust came about his face. His girl shrugged and said haggis is great and not to listen to the sod because he doesn't like meat anyways. We all laughed and stared at the food that was in front of us. We also ordered some nachos, so I smashed on those before attempting the mysterious dish in front of me. Once I summoned the courage to eat that Haggis, I stabbed it off with my fork and went to put it in my mouth when I felt 8 eyes staring at me. With anticipation carved into their faces, the girls and the couple were staring at me and the fork. When they were busted for staring we all broke out into fits of laughter. What a scene for such a ‘normal’ Scottish dish.

It was good, at first. After I ate about a quarter it started to taste too much like onions. After I had eaten half of my portion, I could not continue because all I could see was a sheep baaing in my face. As you all should know, I adore sheep, and the fact that I was eating a sheep’s stomach made me want to vomit and curl up into a little ball. I am not a vegetarian but I won’t eat sheep or veal. This is the first time I have ever consciously eaten sheep, and I felt like a murderer of innocence.

After dinner, Julia got sick from thinking about the Haggis. Poor girl. While we waited for her, I decided to continue my search for the perfect Sticky Toffee Pudding. This wasn’t the place, but it was still good.

We made our way to St Giles Cathedral, to Mercat Cross. Mercat being the Gallic word for Market. PS: There is a difference between Gallic (Scottish) and Gaelic (Irish), but if you know one, you can probably understand the other. Here at Mercat Cross we met with our Ghost and Ghouls tour guide, an elderly woman called Liz. She was a very theatrical guide. Her stories were spooky and interactive. Mercat Cross is where people were punished for their crimes, in front of St Giles is where the gallows stood, and under the streets of Edinburgh is a hidden city of stone. The vaults are all over the city, many near the south bridge. It is here where people would set up shops, brothels, and poor residences. The vaults are said to be the most haunted place in Britain (the title is from the BBC itself).

While we were in the last and most ‘unpleasant room’ I had an upsetting encounter. We all piled into this small short room. There was no one standing next to me and there was a space about 2 feet from the wall. I was holding very still standing next to Julie (while linking arms because we are babies) when something touched by black leather boots. It felt as if someone’s nails pulled along the outside heel section of the boot, touching the leather. A grumbling exhale sounded from the floor and my heart dropped. Something just touched my boot and I do not think it liked them. I crush on to Julia and remain calm. I don’t remember Liz’s exact stories of this rom, but I remember the end. The man that haunts this room was a whisky sodden Scotsman called “Mr. Boots”… Why? Because the way they distinguish him is from his black leather boots. Then she blew out the candle and I ran for my life out of the vaults and into the area where we were to have our ‘refreshment’.

Whether or not Mr Boots liked my boots, I do not know. But the entire night, and still I feel a nasty feeling on the back of my left foot. It is extremely unpleasant. After we returned to the hotel I decided to have a look at my boot and see if there were marks on the spot that I felt being touched. There was indeed a mark that scratched the outside of my boot in the location that I felt. But I am a clumsy walker so it could have just been my own making. Although that spot of my boot is an odd spot to rub the leather on.

The next day I did not want to get out of bed. I am exhausted. I made my way to breakfast, and back to my room to pack up. We all decided we were going to go to the castle and they wanted to take the bus… again. So we go and get on the wrong bus, end up on the outskirts of Edinburgh. By now it is 10:30 and we are supposed to be back at the hotel at 2 to get our bags and train tickets. Julia and I decide to catch a later train. I won’t talk more about the irritating bus tour of rural Edinburgh, but know that Julie and I ended up going to the castle by ourselves. This is ok, because traveling is much easier with two people. So we worm our way to the castle, after going to a few shops where I got a few Christmas presents. My wallet was pissed off at me. Once we got to the castle we spoke to a guard and she told us it would be best to order them online and come back after we check out of the hotel, since the que is so long at the moment. So we go to Starbucks, have a coffee and book our tickets. We then slide next door to Garfunkel’s to get some safe chain food that won’t make anyone sick. We shared a burger while I messaged Emily about my trip. I am 98% sure I left voda sitting on the table. How depressing. I will have to figure out how to get that back tomorrow, if I can at all. Maybe they will hold it for me and dad and I will pick it up.

We went back to the hotel, got our bags and got on the Anderson tour bus that would take everyone else to Waverly Station (that took a while, thank you traffic). After we got there we (Julie, me and our bags) made our way up the giant hill to the castle. This was an adventure in its own but we got there before we knew it. We tugged our suitcases along the cobblestone road, into the castle, to information and found out that since this is a working military base, unattended bags are not allowed, so we had to keep them with us at all times. This 3 hour adventure explained to me why they use the phrase “Backpack through Europe”. You do not “Drag your suitcase through Europe”. Anyhow, we got to thoroughly explore the castle with each other and only got stared at a few thousand times. Wheelie suitcases make a lot of noise on cobbled castle grounds. Hehe.

In the castle we saw the main attractions: the view, Mary Queen of Scot’s Apartments, The Crown Jewels of Scotland, Prison of War, and another jail. We also stopped into the whisky shop that was situated in the castle to have a look. I was speaking to the salesman, Brian. (I swear, everyone I speak to in this country’s name is Brian…) Anyhow, Brian explained to me what his favorite whisky was and why, all the distilleries that daddy and I can visit when he comes, and the story behind the Scottish seeking their independence from the United Kingdom.

A few years ago, Scotland was granted its own Parliament, now the Parliament is talking about separating from the United Kingdom, Give a little power, and they want more theory in my eyes. In September of next year (2014), this will be purposed to formally. The Scottish people ask who would be King or Queen of Scotland or if they will have a presidential country. No one really has the answers. But the answer to me is that some ‘nobody’ will have to pipe up with history linking them to the House of Stewart… Who knows?

I hope you enjoyed going on the journey to Edinburgh with me, and I hope to see you all reading and commenting on my blog. If you haven’t got a Google account, make one. Google controls basically the entire internet, so it won’t hurt to have an account. Then you can comment on my posts. 

PS: Blogger was being a turd and wouldn't let me upload all of my pictures, so these do not accurately depict the beauty of this land! 

My Canterbury Tale

The lack of blog posting has left me overwhelmed with too many things to write about and a lack of details. But I will do my best!

On Sunday the 22st, Kat and I went woke up early (in my case) after the game and went to Gloucester Road Tube stop to be picked up by our tour bus. Kat didn't get to sleep that night and was also incredibly hungover, poor girl. Anyhow, we made the best of our circumstances and pushed onward to Dover. There were about 8 of us in total on the Mercedes Mini Coach, with one bizarre tour guide. She was quite a character and wonderfully informed. Hailing from Ecuador, she spoke Spanish as her first language, while looking and dressing very English. We stopped at a rest stop on the Motor way to get some breakfast items. I was on the hunt for anything with an egg in it. I found a 'free range egg, and mushroom English muffin'. I was disturbed by the mushrooms but pleased to find out that it was not as gnarly as I had expected.

Our arrival in Dover was fascinating as we passed a huge steep hill covered in Sheep that are specific to Dover alone. I love sheep. We all know I love them. Dover Castle was a shock to me as I had not known about all of it's history. I knew it was a Castle built my William I, and that's about it. Come to find out it has much more significant history all the way up WWII.

We started our tour at the oldest part of the area within the castle walls: The Roman Lighthouse. It truly was an old Roman lighthouse! Partially crumbling and made up of rocks that are found all over the beaches of England, the lighthouse still prevails. Next to the lighthouse is an old Anglo Saxon Church! There was a baptism going on inside, so we didn't enter.

Moving forward in time, we entered the Keep that Henry II built for himself to live in. This is the king that had Thomas Becket murdered in Canterbury Cathedral. The Pope supposedly made Henry II crawl to Canterbury and pay respects, or be excommunicated from the Catholic Church. So he did it, and that was the start of the pilgrimages to Canterbury (and the stories from the Canterbury Tales) originated. Anyhow, the Keep was huge, square and tall! Walking up the many spiral staircases was no feat for the faint of breath. I searched most of the floors (that I could find) and saw them beautiful recreated to period decor. After the keep we had a light lunch/snack and moved on to the gift shop. I tried Honey Mead, Celtic Mead and spiced Mead and let me tell you, it was the most bizarre thing I had ever tasted. I told Kat she should try it and she was disgusted by the idea (probably due to the hangover). It should have gotten a bottle, but I didn't want to carry it around all day. Maybe I will next time I see a bottle of it.


Keeping on a timeline, apparently there is a Medieval Tunnel system under the Keep, but we didn't have time to make it over there, nor did we even know about it until it was too late. So we are skipping that.

We are now transported to the 1800s where there stands a large building which was used as military officer's quarters. It is now hollowed out completely and waiting for restoration funds. The outside of the building is fantastic! (Regular soldiers barracks are located some ways away on the hill, and are now comprised of a restaurant, and other touristy things)

During the second World War, Dover played an important role! Since the entire castle area is built on a huge hill, with the rest of the things I mentioned surrounding it, more stuff is at the bottom of this hill. There is an entrance to a series of tunnels that functioned during WWII as a military safe base complete with barracks, a hospital, offices, and much more. The tunnels are multiple layers and were used a lot during the war. We toured the hospital since the complete tour would have taken over an hour. This was amazingly creepy. I can only imagine actually having to work down here when the land above is being bombed. Dover is the closest point to the French mainland, the enemies had guns on the other side that could reach Dover. The castle went without harm, but everything else was targeted. How 'respectful'? Anyhow, the tunnels were a fascinating surprise.

We carried on to the Admirals lookout which was from WWII, and got great views of the ocean and the distinct white cliffs of Dover. PS: the rocks here are rather crazy distinct as well, I snatched a couple to bring home... oops.

After we conquered the Castle we got back on the bus and headed down to Dover Marina and spend some time by the water taking pictures and enjoying the view.

On our way to Canterbury, we both caught a wink. Our mission once we were there was food. Our guide told us about a pub that has been there since the 14th century that was straight down the street, so naturally the historian in me wanted to go there. We got there, and it smelled old, so Kat didn't want to eat there (or anywhere without wifi)... Oh well. We had fish and chips at a little place up the street. It was really good though!

The town of Canterbury was extremely adorable. I could have stayed there for an extended period of time. It was so cute! I loved it! The shops were great: ranging from sweet shops to clothing to anything you can think of.


The Cathedral was magnificent. With it's towering Gothic ceiling and vast nave, it was truly a Holy place. Upon my entrance to the nave, a fat calico cat was wandering around. Cathedral cat and I spent a couple minutes together as I pet her and took her picture. She then went on her way, and I went on mine. I wandered through the giant Cathedral wondering where the shrine to Thomas Becket was until I came upon it's location and realized that Henry VIII would have destroyed it during the Reformation. Of course he did, the tard. Anyhow, there is a candle burning in it's location and it is pretty interesting. The actual location of Becket's death is marked clearly on the left side of the Nave.

The crypt underneath the Cathedral was a whole other experience. It was dark and somber there with little mini chapels all over. There were some creepy unique things lurking in it. I didn't really enjoy the feeling down there, but I lite a candle, said a pray and went on my way.


The bus home from Canterbury went quite quickly since I slept the entire time. Although once we entered London the traffic was horrendous. I finally got home, and awaited the return of my roommates whom have been in Paris for the weekend.


PS: If you click on pictures, it enlarges them.

The Premier League

My friend Katharine (kat) has graciously invited me to go to the Chelsea Vs. Fulham Premier League game with her! Tickets to these games are rare to the common non member, but with a few connections she managed to get them.

Chelsea's stadium, Stamford Bridge, is on Fulham Street, so you can imagine the closeness of the teams and the rivalry that comes with their location. A few hours before the game starts we head to Fulham Broadway  on the tube and find ourselves at a pub: The Rose. We met Kat's friends there who are exceptionally friendly and welcoming, buying us a round of Amsteds (Delicious Lager). We sit and chat about the game, where we are from, why we are in London, why we like Chelsea, and why we like football in general, since we are Americans after-all.

After an hour or more, slightly intoxicated, we make our way to Stamford Bridge to watch the match. This game was much better than the last! The teams played well, and Chelsea won 2-0! A victorious match. At halftime we ran out to use the toilets, and get another beer. Unfortunately this time, the beer tasted like horse urine, so I was hesitant to finish mine.

We returned to the game in the nick of time, finished watching the second half, drunkenly sprinted to the gift shop, bought a 40 pound jersey, and walked back to the pub.I love my jersey to this day, but I know I wouldn't have bought it if Chelsea would have lost, and if I wasn't drunk. But I will cherish it even more!

Unfortunately all the rest of this seasons' games are sold out! Hopefully we can worm our way into a match before we leave.