Barbara & Tom walking and eating in Edinburgh

27-June-06

I climbed in bed for a minute last night and woke up about 4:00. I checked on the laundry I'd started last night. The machine had stopped but the clothes were wet. I figured out how to set it to the tumble dry setting - the only setting that didn't involve washing - and let it run awhile. When I checked, the clothes didn't seem to be any drier and when I restarted, it spit a little more water in. After a few hours of this I gave up and started draping clothes over the radiators, which had finally come back on. (I later figured out that the towel warmer in the bathroom was actually a clothes dryer rack. Even later I found a folding drying rack.) The radiators were warm last evening but nothing I did would cause them to come back to life this morning. I guess when they close the bar, they shut off the heat. Or the heat just doesn't work at night. Seems like I've heard that about the English. We haven't had the chance to check since we've had every window wide open all night up to now and wished for fans.

We sat around enjoying our own space - bathing, reading, drinking tea and munching Golden Grahams cereal - the only food in the place. The bartender had explained breakfast to us so we figured we had misunderstood the meaning of "self-catering" and went to the bar for breakfast. The waitress did understand (that breakfast wasn't included) but insisted that we have breakfast there every morning at no charge, just so we wouldn't be embarrassed. We won't though. We really want some yoghurt and fruit. However, until we find a market her eggs, tomatoes and mushrooms were very good.

We started uphill toward the Royal Mile, using the shiny object method. We wound our way up through a strange park between alleyways and a grubby man, like a travelling minstrel who forgot his lute, walked up and said he was looking for Leith Walk. Barbara drawled that she didn't know where it was and he dropped his jaw, pointed at her, then covered his twisted teeth with his hand, laughed, said "sorry" and walked off. Then he turned around and delcared, "Welcome to the Capital of the Worrrrllld!" Apparently we aren't mistaken for locals.

We wound up at the east end of the Royal Mile at Calton Hill. The bright red man with the big smile and a brogue like a mouthful of marbles took our admission fee to Nelson Monument and cheerfully gave us instructions or greetings. We couldn't tell which. We got tremendous views from the top of the monument, including the unfinished replica of the Acropolis, which is a national disgrace for some reason, up the Royal Mile toward the Castle, south to the Palace of Hollyrood and the Scotland Parliaments, and a million other ancient ornate edifices.

RLS wouldn't have recognized the day. It was sunny and warm. The shirt-jacket I finally had a chance to wear was just something else to carry and my last clean shirt was drenched. Hope the washing worked.

We walked a little south so we could go up the entire Royal Mile. We went by Palace of Hollyroodhouse, gawked at the old Parliament and went in the new Parliament. We'd heard what a controversy it had been but we thought it was brilliant. It was very modern in the ancient city, but still very well done. Great angles and use of wood, steel and glass. My favorite part were the quotes of scottish poets and writers engraved in stones set it an outside wall.

Walter Scott had to say,
when we had a king and a chancellor and parliament men o our ain, we could aye peeble them wi stanes when they weren a gude bairns. But naebody's nails can reach the length o Lunnon.
And ain't it the truth?

We stopped for vegetable soup and tea, and a hummus, spinach and olives sandwich and ate on the street. (We'd tried a little tea shoppe but it was hot and crowded and we left as soon as we sat down.) Next door was a small museum with various artifacts and several models of Edinburgh at various points in history. It showed the rings of city walls and how each had been built in response to a successful attack on the previous arrangement. Royalty was well protected up in the castle with a steep dropoff to the north, a moat on one side and rings of city and walls around the rest.

The city was once the most densely populated in the world and full of disease. They had to build up to house everyone within the city walls and a class system determined where you lived. The stack of houses was known as a "land". The wealthy lived in the middle stories, shopkeepers below them with the shops on the street level in the filth and sewage. For some reason the poor lived on the top level or in the streets and stairways. During the enlightenment, someone was enlightened with the notion that they could live outside the city walls and the crisis was resolved. RLS laments the loss of many of the old "lands", including several that used to hem in the striking St Giles Cathedral.

Here's what he had to say about one:

One night I went along the Cowgate after everyone was a-bed but the policeman, and stopped by hazard before a tall land. The moon touched upon its chimneys, and shone blankly on the upper windows; there was no light anywhere in the great bulk of the building; but as I stood there it seemed to me that I could hear quite a body of quiet sounds from the interior; doubtless there were many clocks ticking, and people snoring on their backs. And thus, as I fancied, the dense life within made itself faintly audible in my ears, family after family contributing its quota to the general hum, and the whole pile beating in tune to its timepieces, like a great disordered heart. Perhaps it was a little more than a fancy altogether, but it was strangely impressive at the time, and gave me an imaginative measure of the disproportion between the quantity of living flesh and the trifling walls that separated and contained it.

There was nothing fanciful, at least, but every circumstance of terror and reality; in the fall of the land in the High Street. The building had grown rotten to the core; the entry underneath had suddenly closed up so that the scavenger's barrow could not pass; cracks and reverberations sounded through the house at night; the inhabitants of the huge old human bee-hive discussed their peril when they encountered on the stair; some had even left their dwellings in a panic of fear, and returned to them again in a fit of economy or self-respect; when, in the black hours of a Sunday morning, the whole structure ran together with a hideous uproar and tumbled story upon story to the ground. The physical shock was felt far and near; and the moral shock travelled with the morning milkmaid into all the suburbs. The church-bells never sounded more dismally over Edinburgh than that grey forenoon. Death had made a brave harvest; and, like Samson, by pulling down one roof destroyed many a home. None who saw it can have forgotten the aspect of the gable: here it was plastered, there papered, according to the rooms; here the kettle still stood on the hob, high overhead; and there a cheap picture of the Queen was pasted over the chimney. So, by this disaster, you had a glimpse into the life of thirty families, all suddenly cut off from the revolving years. the land had fallen; and with the land, how much! Far in the country, people saw a gap in the city ranks, and the sun looked through between the chimneys in an unwonted place. And all over the world, in London, in Canada, in New Zealand, fancy what a multitude of people could exclaim with truth: 'The house that I was born in fell last night!"

We continued gawking at the amazing buildings, sometimes forgetting that they really were centuries old - they seemed unreal like a Disney mockup. (Again RLS agreed with me, "...the feeling grows upon you that this also is a piece of nature in the most intimate sense; that this profusion of eccentricities, this dream in masonry and living rock, is not a drop-scene in a theatre, but a city in the world of every-day reality...")

We toured the St Giles cathedral. The first thing you see on entering is a huge set of organ pipes, really out of place among the 18th century tombs and stained glass. As we toured the organist began playing. (St. Giles organ movie.) I'd never heard such an elaborate set of pipes. A guide took a liking to Barbara and told us all about them (donated by a wealthy parishoner in 1992, built in Austria for 2 million pounds.) He took us around the back and pushed a button which lighted up all the keys and wooden rods.

I snapped endless photos as we made our way up to the castle. The view of the castle from the road was obscured by an enormous framework of stadium seats. They were in the process of preparing for Tattoo, whatever that is.

The castle was fantastic and a thousand tourists from all over the world agreed with us. We were certainly well protected by the rings of castle walls, the cannons and the moat, even if it was dry. We fought our way to the viewpoints and toured the royal residence and the prison. The war memorial honoring those lost in the great war was very moving. Everyone was silent as they moved past the books of the dead, the stained glass and the bas-relief murals. If it hadn't been so crowded we could have explored the castle all day. But it was nearing 4:00, time for the Brazil-Ghana game.

We found a pub with two tv's tuned to the game. Another group came in for the game too, but they still wouldn't turn the sound on. We had a delicious dessert, banoffee, basically a fancy banana pudding - then moved on to a more sports oriented pub. We had a table right in front of the tv and the bar was full by the time we left. We paid for the right by ordering nachos which were fairly authentic. Ghana played well except that they didn't seem to understand the concept of scoring. If they got anywhere near the goal, they'd kick it wildly in that general direction. If Brazil neared the goal they just booted it right in because the goalie was never around.

We wandered off in the general direction of home which would have been south-east, but we couldn't find any way to get east. On our way along a wide path through a huge park, Barbara found a sign for Botanic Gardens due east of us. I would have continued south.

We were looking for a grocery but didn't see any on our way home. I immediately took off again since it was nearly 7:00 and I was afraid they'd be closing soon. I eventually found a small Indian grocer and did the best I could filling our list. When I left the store I noticed a man carrying more groceries than I had and saw that there was a much better Indian grocer just a few doors down. They had greek yoghurt, our holy grail, and raspberries.

On the way back, after passing RLS's first school, I stopped in for Indian take-away. I've wanted Indian take-away since I read About a Boy years ago. I ordered so much I had to take the groceries home and come back for it. We had good samosas, garlic naan with onion raita, salad and wonderful dressing, the best tandoori chicken I've ever had and something with chick peas, spinach and chilis that went straight to the trash. They'll probably provide every dinner while we're here.

My clothes were crisp on the drying rack, the wrinkles well set in. Barbara pulled her load out of the washer but they probably won't dry before they turn the radiators off. (Cut off our hot water?)

Mileage - a respectable 12.9.