Forever plaid (or tartan)

Last weekend we went to Edinburgh (pronounced Eh-den-burr-uh). I hiked to the train station, about a 30-minute walk, along with another girl. It was still rather early in the morning, so I thought it might be chilly. Nope. Durham is another one of those magical cities where no matter where you trek, you’re going to head uphill, and of course this makes the trek even toastier. However, it wasn’t bad, and we got some fresh air to start our day. After we got to the train station, we met up with the rest of the group on the platform. There was no security, and we simply had to feed our tickets through a turnstile to get to the train platform. This was my first train trip, or at least the first time I’ve taken a train as a means of transportation instead of just an attraction. It was nice. The train was much smoother than what I thought; I jotted down a few notes during the trip, and it was just barely more jagged than my usual untamed penmanship. Anyway, it took fewer than two hours for us to get to Edinburgh, and then we quickly found our hotel. Hotel is a loose term, because it was really more of a cross between a hotel and a dorm. At any rate, it was comfortable and close to the center of town, so it worked well.

A few of us decided to wander around the Royal Mile, which is one of the main drags in Edinburgh. It’s a nice road to wander down IF you’re heading the right direction, because the road is better split into top and bottom instead of east and west. It has a pretty steep grade. Edinburgh Castle is at the top of the hill and the Holyrood palace (where the Queen stays!) is at the bottom, along with the entrance to King Arthur’s Seat, which is a mini mountain that allegedly makes for a nice little hike (more on that later). We basically started at the bottom of the Royal Mile and worked our way back up. We took a tour through the Edinburgh Museum, which was an interestingly random collection that curators attempted to vaguely tie to the city. Then we decided that coffee would help perk us up, so we found a little café  promising Scottish art tucked into a narrow shop along the Royal Mile. The artwork was unique, the coffee excellent and the service even better because the guy running the shop was nice and chatty. It felt like a place where they would hand regulars their orders the moment they walked in the

door. We ended up going back there another time, which is when I got what I would tentatively label the world’s best coffee (YOU DID IT! CONGRATULATIONS!). It was a flat white, basically a double shot of espresso with a bit of steamed milk. It was perfect. Afterward we wandered over to a park and people watched. There was a tough-looking guy walking his miniature short-haired mutt that liked to take frequent sniffing breaks at every spot previously visited by another pooch. The little dog took one of these breaks as the duo passed in front of us, and in gravelly British we heard the guy mutter, “You nightmare, Mr. Pickles!” It was precious and funny, because you could tell the guy really loved this tiny dog.

The next day we did a bit more city exploration, wandering around the little Scottish shops and sidestepping the tourist queues that gather for photos with EVERY. SINGLE. KILTED. BAGPIPER. (Side note: Kilts aren’t really worn by everyday Scotsmen, mainly by street performers, fancy hotel bouncers and grooms. However, there’s a kilt tailor on every other block, which makes me wonder if the Scots are exaggerating their kilt market.) Anyway, early in the morning, another girl and I found ourselves drooling in front of a bakery window and settled on the chocolate instead of the coffee éclair by way of rock, paper, scissors. Later that day we met up with a larger group for a picnic in a park, before heading to another coffee shop with a quaint little garden out back.

Saturday was our busiest day, as we saved that for the majority of the tours. We went to an art museum first, where we were met with modern art displays that even kindergarteners would spurn.  No matter how large the canvas or how prominent the wall placing, I still struggle to classify colorblocked squares as art. If I could paint a replica in an hour using nothing more than finger paints and masking tape, there’s a good chance it’s not art. Eventually we wandered into a section that didn’t resemble a proud mother’s refrigerator decorations. The best part was the impressionist and post-impressionist painters, Degas, Monet, Gauguin and Van Gogh. It’s neat to see real-life paintings of people you’ve read about for years. Next, we decided to ride the Ferris wheel, so we got a fantastic city view if you ignore the rain and fog that practically swallowed the city. I was concerned that the ride might be a bit on the sketchy side based on my previous dealings with carnival rides. However, this one was fully enclosed and the word “rickety” never popped in mind.

It was good prep for riding the London Eye in a few weeks! Then we wandered around a bit before going to the other side of town for a Harry Potter walking tour. The tour started at Greyfriar’s Bobby, which is a little statue dedicated to a tiny dog that was so loyal to his owner that he visited his grave for years after his death. The story was sweet, and the statue had a lovable, friendly quality; it also had a golden nose from where people rubbed it for good luck (I’m a member of that crowd). From there, we went through several places that helped inspire Rowling, such as a graveyard for Book 4, Voldemort’s grave, the cafés where she did the bulk of her writing and a curved street that bears a striking resemblance to Diagon Alley. It was raining pretty much the entire tour, but it was worth it. It actually just seemed to authenticate the experience by giving it a proper misty atmosphere. Afterward we went to a warm café that called fried potato strips “fries” instead of “chips” and offered pancakes on the menu (they weren’t fluffy, more like the poundcake equivalent of pancakes). However, the food was warm and gave us enough energy to get back to the hotel.

On our last day in Edinburgh we decided to climb King Arthur’s Seat. My group thought it looked like a nice little hike as we were walking down the hill to the entrance. When we actually got to it, we realized it was about twice as steep as we thought. As a bonus, all the things I brought for my weekend stay were loaded into my backpack, I was wearing a long, flowy skirt and the path was covered in loose rock that deliberately jumped in our Chacos. We started off strong, then our power climb petered into something more of a trudge. I kept up a mental pep talk littered with inspirational Braveheart quotes and felt triumphant when I wasn't the first person who asked to take a little break. We started back up the mountain, and kept hoping the trail would flatten out a bit. Eventually it did, and then we realized that we were at a false top; an unmarked path we’d already passed lead to the top. The website suggests wearing only true climbing shoes and apparel for the upper climb, although I’d argue that could be said for the lower as well. Anyway, we decided to stick with the lower trail since we weren’t really dressed in climbing attire. Besides, the view from our tier was still incredible and we did have a train to catch. It was a great end to our stay in Scotland, getting to see the entire city where we’d spent the weekend wandering.