Today was a typical Scottish day (so I’m told). Rainy and cold. I like that weather. I’m disproportionate and pale, so I’m automatically inclined to the Scottish culture/weather patterns. Mental state: currently enjoying a Tennant’s (beer) at the hostel pub. Only American in here. And before I get into the day’s events, I’ve got to brag on my French. There are more dadgum Frenchies in this city than Scots. Today I am proud to say I conducted multiple conversations in French with tourists asking me to help them. It felt like…well all those French classes in high school and college were 100% worth this feeling of accomplishment. Please excuse the hubris, but I had to mention it. OK. Today.
-We overslept again. The fault lies again, with the Frenchies, and the snoring/wind-breaking. It’s ok though, they’re great. So we got up around 10, had lunch at the cheap charcuterie (in French mode tonight folks), and set-out for the Royal Mile. I mentioned the Mile in my last post- the center of town, leading from the ancient castle to the new royal palace. It’s sort of like Bourbon Street, but Scottish…and lots better. Tartan shops, cafes, churches, parliament, and tons of tourist pitfalls. Aka: Dudes dressed-up like William Wallace and bagpipers. William Wallace was a cheesy actor (he mooned the French tourists at one point, in front of zee children), but the bagpipers were a class act.
*Sidenote: William and Kate were in town today celebrating the military. Fact: twice as many Scots have died for the UK in war than Englishmen. Fact #2: 1/2 of all Scotsmen alive at the time died in WW2. Laura and I were walking to the royal mile when a military plane flew over E’burgh, leaving a trail of patriotic exhaust in its wake to celebrate the armed forces/the royal visit. A really powerful moment. I can’t help but feel pride for the Scots…these are my people (aka: the Isle of Lewis…that’s me folks).
-Then we went to Rossyln Chapel. You may be familiar with it if you’ve read/seen the DaVinci Code. It was stunning. A short history lesson: Rosslyn Chapel was built by a French dude named William Sinclair, who defected from France to Scotland in the fifteenth century. The Sinclairs were tight with the royal family, so Will was given a title and the town of Rosslyn. The chapel was built as a personal family chapel by Will, and has remained in the Sinclair family since it was founded (wow). A few words to describe the chapel: catholic/pagan/freemason symbology, rural, quaint, architectural masterpiece, a must see in Scotland. We weren’t allowed to take pictures. Do you think that stopped me? No. No it did not.
-Then we went to Mary King’s Close. This is literally an underground city, that was closed-up by the city after the plague. Bizarre. It’s multiple city blocks, running at a steep angle downward from the main street (the royal mile). And it’s been preserved. And Laura and I could not believe this. Again, we weren’t allowed to take pics. But I’ve got your back, dear blog reader.
-Next we got bad directions from the friendliest cop in the United Kingdom, and got on the wrong bus. We finally realized it, got off, and found THE HOLY GRAIL: the actual spot where Her Majesty J.K. Rowling wrote the second greatest book known to mankind. So we stopped in and had a pint at her table. Bon chance (can’t let go of the French).
-Then we went to a cool pub district called Grass Market. Good times there. Really feel like we got to truly hang with the Scotts in this part of town. Thoroughly enjoyed it.
Farewell Edinburgh. I really think this will be my favorite European city when the trip ends. Felt right at home from the start. The people are friendlier than Americans…YES, even Southern folks (quiet…you know you’re all hateful). Glad I’ll be back for a few days in August. Guid cheerio the nou, Edinburgh.
preferably a british/australian male around the age of 16
but i dont know how to find one
Some good shit..
For Many in Britain, Being a Homeowner Is a Fading Dream
For a large number of young adults in Britain, homeownership has become increasingly difficult to achieve, viewed as a distant goal attainable only later in life, if at all. (via NYTimes.com)
