Edinburgh 2003
We finally made it into Edinburgh and found the flat at 64 Findhorn Place. By the way, that’s pronounced fin as a fish fin—FINdhorn. I drove around until we found a parking place, and I parallel parked (yes, I did). And I didn’t move the car until we left 5 days later. Why drive? There was a bus stop on the other street, and cabs were easy to flag down.
The flat was perfect. Four bedrooms, one being a box room, which is a euphemism for closet with a bed in it. But hey, a separate bedroom for each of us. The kitchen had everything we needed, and there were 2 bathrooms and a great living room with a bay window. It was bright and cheery and I loved it.
Mom got introduced very quickly to how much people walk in the UK. And to the fact that Edinburgh is a city with A LOT of people. It was one big anxiety attack waiting to happen, but she muddled through. One little stress point between Mom and me was that she wanted to know at all times exactly where we were, exactly where were we going, how we were going to get there, how long it would take, and wasn’t there an easier way to do it. Unfortunately, I couldn’t give her that information, and my philosophy was that we’ll just keep walking in this direction and we’ll come up on it eventually.
Mom decided to sit down on one of the benches and people watch while we headed down to the Tourist Information Center (TIC). Conveniently, the train station was next to the TIC, so J and I headed down there to get tickets to Ft. William, but the wait was going to be a long time, so she went to get some food for Mom, got Jen, and headed to back to Mom while I got our train tickets. They all had their first official fish-n-chips, but I got the better end of that deal because I talked to some really nice people to pass the time. One lady I talked to had a daughter who lived in San Antonio (where I was living at the time) and she had just gotten back from visiting her. We just marveled in the coincidence.
Waverly Station is beautiful and is the nicest train station we saw in the UK. It’s like walking into another world. You leave the city above ground and walk down into this open-air structure with cars coming down to a small circle to drop people off, kiosks of coffee and newspapers, busses dropping off and picking up tourists, and, of course, trains. The platforms are numbered with TVs showing the arrivals and departures. You go into a separate building for tickets, but this, too, is a huge open space, with a high ceiling with skylights and a domed center of stained glass. All the while, the city of Edinburgh is above you, with people hurrying from place to place.
Edinburgh is divided into 2 halves—the old town and new town. The dividing line is Princess Street Gardens. Old Town includes the Royal Mile, from Edinburgh Castle to Holyrood Castle. The New Town includes Princess Street, Charlotte Square, and all the newer housing. I preferred old town, despite the tourist trappings, but then again, I haven’t spent too much time in New Town. No one will believe this, but I wasn’t interested in shopping, at least not in the major department stores or high-priced boutiques of New Town. I wanted old and historical, to linger in make-shift museums and used bookstores, galleries, and pubs in buildings older than our country.
Edinburgh Castle is a must-see for every tourist. Wear good walking shoes because the castle grounds are cobblestone and you are constantly walking up hill. The castle, itself, is on top of a hill and there is no parking at the top. Take your time, stop and look over the beautiful city, and you’ll be fine. I think there is a courtesy vehicle that can take people up the hill, but I didn’t look for it, so I don’t know for sure. The castle is home to the Scottish Crown Jewels, the Stone of Destiny, and memorials to the soldiers. And at 1:00, of course, you can hear the 1:00 cannon every day. And yes, someone inevitably will ask, “What time does the 1:00 cannon go off?”
The first time I went to the castle, audio guides were free, but unfortunately, that’s changed, but get one anyway. They are easy to use; there are signs throughout the castle with corresponding numbers you punch into the player. As you listen to the commentary, it’s easy to forget that you are one of hundreds of people looking around the castle as you enjoy your private tour. Plan on spending the better part of the day there. Stop for lunch in the cafe and sit in the sunny back room with beautiful views of the west side of the city.
The excitement for us at the castle that day was the thunderstorm that blew in. Hail! Cold, stinging, slapping, pea-sized hail. J and I took refuge in the bookshop while it blew through, then headed to the cafe for a comforting bowl of mushroom soup and a cup of tea. It was actually kind of fun. I don’t know why I feel the need to laugh uncontrollably when caught in a storm. Guess it washes away all the pretensions I put forth—the make up, the hair style, the concern about clothes. And you really have to feel that way about rain if your are going to be in the UK because it rains a lot and storms quickly roll in and may or may not roll out.
So, what else did I do? Well, we took a day and each of us went out on our own. After missing the bus stop I thought I wanted and ending up at an even better stop (riding the bus is such an adventure), I got on a tour bus and headed to Old Town. The tour busses are a great way to get around because you can get your bearings, then hop off and on for a 24-hour period. I rode up to the Royal Mile, then I hopped off to walked up and down the Royal Mile for awhile. I went The Writer’s Museum and read exhibits on Walter Scott and Robert Burns. The Robert Louis Stevenson exhibit was closed, darn it. I came out with a new respect for these writers and nice paperback on a literary tour of Edinburgh, which I haven’t even cracked the spine on, but I will.
I also went to Gladston’s Land, a museum owned by the National Trust reconstructed to represent life in the 17th century. There were tour guides in each room, in addition to the laminated information sheets that are typical of touring homes like this. I’m self-conscious reading those things because I don’t read very fast nor comprehend quickly. Besides, I’m not such a art guru that I really care about who did every portrait. Actually, this place wasn’t so heavy into art as it was furniture. However, there were amazing painted ceilings that they discovered in the restoration.
Time for some libation. So, I went to Deacon’s Brodie, a great little pub just down from Gladstone’s Land. The pub is named after William Brodie, the inspiration for Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson. Brodie was a respectable councilman and pillar of society by day and head of a gang of robbers and villains by night. He was executed for robbery in 1788. I was the only woman alone and drinking a pint of beer. I wasn’t uncomfortable with this until I looked down to the end of the room, and there was an older couple and the woman was shaking her head and frowning at me. I’m not sure if she was thinking, “Poor dear all alone” or “Hussy.” I ignored her and talked to a nice man who gave me some suggestions of places to visit.
OK, quick run down on restaurants and pubs:
• John Leslie’s Pub was across from the flat and was my favorite pub. It must be the favorite of a lot of people because it was voted Pub of the Year by CAMRA (the Campaign for Real Ale). J and I really enjoyed this pub. It was small and dark with really wonderful beer and cider. Mom enjoyed it too when she came and even had a half-pint of ale.
• Since we were there for Mother’s Day, I took the ladies to The Bell Inn and we had a very nice steak dinner. Many nice restaurants offer a price fixed dinner. For around £13.95, you can choose two items (starter and entree, entree and dessert, you get the idea). Makes it pretty easy to decide what to order that way.
• The Elephant House is a coffee house that says it is one of the places where JK Rowling wrote the first Harry Potter. Katie Couric said on Dateline that the coffee shop where she wrote is now a Chinese Restaurant. Who knows? Who cares? I have a picture of the front of the Elephant House and as far as you or anyone else knows, that’s where she wrote Harry Potter. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
• No trip to the UK would be complete without Take Away, and I found a great place right up from the pub near our flat. Don’t remember the name, but trust me, it was good, especially after a pint or two at the pub. If you have an aversion to things fried, don’t go. Oh, what the hell, go anyway! One meal of deep fried food won’t kill ya. And be sure to get malt vinegar to go with it.
• Milne’s Pub—This pub is in New Town and was huge compared to other pubs I’ve been in. It was 2 levels with a bar on each level, which was very handy in deed. They have live music in the evenings and a friend of mine who has been here several times has named this her favorite pub. It’s not the small, cozy pub of John Leslie’s but it had cozy pockets and didn’t lose it’s feeling of a pub. I would imagine it’s pretty hoppin’ at night, but, alas, I was only there for a brief time in the middle of the day.
• Plaisir du Chocolat Café and Pastry Shop—This little shop is full of delectable and decadent sweet pastries. It’s a great place to stop for tea or to get something to take home for later. But really, why would you wait to eat something so wonderful? Unless of course, you buy one for now and one for later. This shop is just down on the Royal Mile.
There’s so much more to do in this city, and I just scratched the surface. Edinburgh is the first time I fell in love with a city. I’ve heard from several people that I have to go to Glasgow, and maybe if I had gone to Glasgow first instead of Edinburgh, I’d feel this way about Glasgow. But I felt at home in Edinburgh—actually in all of Scotland. My friend who’s been there a couple of times said she thinks she’s done Edinburgh now, no need really to go again. How could anyone be done with Edinburgh? I can’t wait to go back.
Bush Nook BandB
(Note: this post begins a series of memories about my trip with my mom and 2 other ladies to the UK in 2003)
May is a wonderful time to travel to the UK. The weather is still cool enough to wear sweaters, but the sun shines a promise of spring days to come. Yes, it rains. I was told it rained every day we were there, but I don’t remember that. It probably did, but it wasn’t enough to dampen my enjoyment—it was all just part of the experience. I do, however, wish I had bought the knit hat and gloves at the Edinburgh Woolen Company, since I made the mistake of thinking I wouldn’t be cold enough for gloves.
Another reason to go to the UK in May is the low number of tourists. Granted, the war in Iraq may have had an effect, but early May is considered the shoulder season and it’s noticeably easy to do the “touristy” things, such as riding the tour busses and seeing the castles. It was nice to be one of 10 people on a tour bus. It was relaxing to amble around the Cotswold villages without having to dodge too many others trying to amble. After standing in lines at the airport, it was nice to not have to stand in line to get into Windsor, Edinburgh, and Warwick Castles. And it was especially nice to be one of three in a walking tour, able to ask as many questions as I wanted and set the pace of what we saw and how long we stayed there. Oh, it was a wonderful time to be in England and Scotland.
We were going to start our trip in Edinburgh, but for some reason, flights had stopped going into Edinburgh and Glasgow at that time, so we landed in Manchester and rented a car. I knew I wouldn’t feel like driving all the way to Edinburgh right after that flight, so I booked us into a bed and breakfast on the border of England and Scotland.
We found the Bush Nook Bed and Breakfast on the border of England and Scotland near Hadrian’s Wall with no problem, and I was feeling really comfortable with the driving. It’s all a control thing—I have to be the one in control.
Bush Nook is wonderfully comfortable, and boy, was it the right decision to stay at a B&B that offered dinner because it is in the middle of nowhere. Of course, that’s part of the appeal of the place—rolling hills divided by rock walls, spotted with sheep as far as the eyes can see. Paul and Judith have done a beautiful job creating a homey place to stay. There’s a glassed in sunroom with rattan furniture that gets a little warm in the late afternoon sun, but otherwise is the perfect place to update a travel journal, read a book, or gather after dinner for coffee. Mom and I shared a twin bedroom upstairs, revealing something I hadn’t thought of. Although I was proud that I brought just one suitcase, and the smaller one at that, I packed it pretty heavy. Really heavy when you’re walking up uneven stairs and you’re also bringing up your mom’s suitcase. So, lesson learned; even if I think I’ve packed light, I can always go lighter. And expect stairs everywhere I go.
We enjoyed a cup of tea and some cake while we got settled in and enjoyed the sunroom. Then it was nap time. So many people recommended that I not nap and as quickly as possible get into the routine of where I am, but I have to take a nap; not a long one, just until I can feel human again. I woke up about an hour later, then decided to let Mom sleep a little longer while I went downstairs to sit in the sunroom and write in my journal and talk to some of the other guests, who were enjoying the sunny room. I finally felt relaxed. In the morning I was wondering what would possess me to take this trip, but now I was beginning to feel excited about being there. I may have been taking this trip with three other women, but it felt very much like a trip of my own, especially as I sat downstairs talking to other guests.
Later, we had all cleaned up and met for a delicious dinner of chicken stuffed with wild mushrooms and a relaxing bottle of wine. Well, all but Jen; she decided she needed sleep more than food. The dinner was served family-style, and we shared a table with a bird-watching couple from Maine. After dinner, we had coffee and hand-made chocolates in the sunroom. Because they are located fairly close to the western coast line, storms blow in and out quickly. As we sat and talked, a thunderstorm of pounding rain and hail swept in. I usually find storms exhilarating in a relieved-to-be-inside-and-safe kind of way, but sitting in a glassed-in porch with hail clinking around us, all I could think of was hail dings in the car and J having to walk outside to get to the building with her and Jen’s room. By 10:00 everything had calmed down and we all adjourned for a restful night’s sleep.
And I slept soundly. When I woke up at 5:30 and couldn’t get back to sleep, I finally decided it was silly to stay in bed when I wasn’t going to sleep any more. I threw on some clothes, wishing not for the first time that I had brought sweats with me, and went downstairs to write in my journal. I rarely write in a journal at home, only when I’m depressed or feeling frustrated, so it’s a very depressing journal. But in England and Scotland, I write tomes.
The sunroom wasn’t open, so I sat in the small sitting room of peach, pink and beige, listening to the wind moaning down through the fireplace. It was a crisp morning and I could feel the wonderful chill of the morning air even though I was sitting comfortably in this room. I was glad not to be in the sunroom because I think it would have been pretty chilly in there that early in the morning. Heat is an interesting anomaly in the UK. Here at Bush Nook during this time of year, it goes off around 8:00 in the morning, then doesn’t come on again until 4:00. I truly feel the label of “spoiled American” when it comes to heating.
Breakfast was just as good as dinner, and I, of course, had the full English breakfast. I love breakfast, as any good Southerner does, but I really love it sitting in an English bed and breakfast, being served to me on blue willow china on those wonderful placemats. The placemats weren’t the same cloth place mats that we use, rather they were rectangular pieces of laminated wood depicting English country life, English castles, or some other design. Before breakfast is served, we could get juice, fruit, yogurt, and/or dry cereal from the breakfast bar. Then a plate of fried eggs, bacon (more like ham to us), sausage links, grilled mushrooms and tomatoes, and potatoes was served to us, with toast, in a toast rack of course. The British eat their toast after they’ve finished their meal, as a kind of dessert with jam (homemade jams at this b&b) and another cup of tea or coffee. And contrary to popular belief, coffee has become very popular in England and was very good. It was served in a French Press, they call it a cafeteria, and was wonderfully rich and creamy.
After carrying down the bags and taking the obligatory pictures of the land and the sheep, because of course we don’t have sheep in this country, Paul asked if I needed a “dog fix.” What a guy. We hadn’t seen their dogs yet, so he brought out his Labrador and Dalmatian for us to pet and get slobbered on by. What fun! I said throughout the trip that I missed my husband, but I really missed my dog.
After a quick stop to walk around Hadrian’s Wall and talk to guy and his border collie, we headed back down the A69 to Carlisle, where the plan was to catch the A7 up to Edinburgh. Sounded easy enough, and looked easy enough on the map. But, when I took the wrong exit off the roundabout, we ended up on the M road to Carlisle. No biggie, we’ll just pick up the A7 out of Carlisle. Sounded easy, and looked easy enough on the map. But I took the wrong exit off the roundabout and ended up the middle of town trying to find my way back to the A7. I was beginning to sense a pattern. Unfortunately, it was a pattern we were destined to repeat many times.
Maybe a B and B Next Time?
My first trip to the United Kingdom started in the Highlands of Royal Deeside, Scotland. Braemar to be exact. Braemar is a tourist village with a minimum of three tour busses every day. The big numbers come in during ski season and the Highland Games, a rousing, yearly sporting event of traditional Scottish games that if you don’t have tickets now, you’re too late. There’s Braemar Castle, Balmoral Castle, hiking/walking trails, and scotch distilleries for your touring pleasure. And if you go to Scotland and don’t go the Highlands, then you haven’t seen how truly beautiful Scotland is.
We rented a self-catering cottage in Braemar as our base for day trips. Victoria Cottage was a well-furnished little cottage with one drawback that we weren’t prepared for—meter reading with coupons. All of the electricity was powered by £5 coupons we inserted into a box by the front door. This caused some anxiety about running out of electricity, so my thrifty husband remedied this by refusing to turn on heaters or lights in any room we weren’t in. Now, it was October, with temperatures in the 40s/50s (F) during the day, lower 30s at night, and being from southern Texas, I was cold. There was a stove in the living room with a bucket of coal and a basket of wood and newspapers beside it. Have I used the term “Spoiled Americans”? We weren’t very good at lighting the stove, I’m afraid, so I spent most of my time in the cottage turning up the space heaters with my husband coming behind me and turning them back down. It was, however, a pretty comfortable cottage and was within walking distance of a pub, a definite plus.
The days were filled with sunny, clear skies and a lot of wind. Of course, saying it was windy in the Highlands is like saying the summers were hot in San Antonio—bit redundant. Our day trips consisted of driving up the curvy, 23-percent grade roads of the Grampian Mountains, resulting in my first experience with car sickness. We visited 10 percent of the scotch distilleries in Scotland and spent the rest of the time trying to see as much as we could squeeze into one short week.
So, after that much activity, you would think that I would sleep well. But at night, the clear skies were replaced with storm clouds carrying torrential rain, pushed along by gusting winds. Too say it was dark would be an understatement. There were no street lights up where we were, and our bedroom had paneling on all four walls plus the ceiling. It was like sleeping the bow of a boat. I would lie curled up under the down comforter, listening to rain and wind slap against the cottage, knowing there were ghosties about. How could there not be? All I could think about was Wuthering Heights. I knew Catherine was outside my window, tapping with the rain saying, “Let me in. Let me in.”
And of course, since it was the middle of the night and I was awake, I had to go to the bathroom. So, I nudged my husband awake and said, “I have to go to the bathroom.”
“Then go,” he mumbled.
“You have to go with me,” I replied, but it was too late. He had already drifted back into a peaceful sleep. After all, he didn’t hear the ghosts rapping on the window or walking in the loft above us. So, I gathered all my courage to face the ghosts and the cold, not knowing which one I was dreading more. I grabbed my flashlight (thank God I brought a flashlight) and headed off for the bathroom in the back of the cottage.
As I entered the living room, I braced myself for what I might see. I fully expected a Gollum-like creature to be squatting in front of the stove, putting logs in while mumbling, “Gollum freezing. Silly hobbitses don’t know to stay warm. We hates them!”
But it wasn’t there. Only shadows and the sounds of rain and wind followed me to the bathroom and back to bed.
Seven nights in that cottage and I never saw a ghost. I read through the guestbook and searched in between the lines for hints of paranormal visions or thoughts experienced by other visitors, but it seems I’m the only paranormal one. Since I now know what to expect, a self-catering will be easier next time, but then again, there’s something to be said for a nice, warm, ghost-free B and B.
Why This Is Here
I have another blog on Blogger, but I thought I’d start one here for a place to put some writing. I like to go exploring and I like to travel. I don’t do either as much as I would like to, but this will be a place for writings about what I have done.
