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!