6:20am. Ryanair to Edinburgh. Window Seat. (Yesssss...)
They play classiccal music on the airplanes here. It makes you feel extra fancy. (Not to mention the fact that you're flying to Scotland. That helps too).
We woke up today at 4:00am. A nice cab driver picked us up on our way to the bus stop--he said he'd take us to the airport for the same price as the bus would. And we happily agreed. It was much more comfortable, anyway. And we had a good chat with our Irish cab driver, who said we were good girls for staying away from the Guinness, (and I were glad he agreed).
The take off was beautiful. I mean absolutely breathtaking. At first there was a green patchwork quilt beneath me, then snatches of fog, then whispsy clouds masking the earth... like flying through skim milk, I should think. And after several moments the white started lighting up, and we broke through the tops of the clouds... which simply went on and on, stretching out in every direction... like something you could jump out and play on, sit on, sleep on. The sky was so blue it hurt your eyes. The sun glinting off the edge of the white clouds beneath you, turning all golden and shimmmering through the window. It was so beautiful, it made my heart hurt.
And as we left, I couldn't help thinking that I'd very much like to come back to Ireland someday. It is a beautiful country, filled with very happy people.
But, on to Scotland!!
***
I've become a lot better at crossing the street in Europe. I don't get taken by surprise when a car pops up out of nowhere anymore... I just expect to be nearly run over at every instant. But today, we were a little hesitant in our street crossing, seeing as how it was a new city and all... and as we teetered at the edge of the road, a car actually REVVED it's engine at us so we'd get a move on.. All I have to say is, it worked. And I squeeled.
Today when we got off the plane I was ready to pass out and die. I was so exhausted. But luckily, the other girls took charge and figured out where we needed to go, while I sat in a coma on a bench. We hopped on a bus, and made our way to Edinburgh. (Pronounced Edinbur-UH, by the way). And talked to a Sctosman about good places to eat and things to see. But of course, I was mostly listening to his accent, and less to his advice. A Scottish accent is perhaps one of the most attractive things I've ever heard come out of a man. It's horribly ... tough. And... well... Scottish.
But I digess.
It's so green here! Greener than Dublin. And the architecture is amazing! Everything is ancient. You can just FEEL how old the city is, walking through it. Cathedrals, castles, olf mansions houses, cobled streets, tiny alleyways (called closes), steep winding roads, and stone steps leading up and up, to the Royal Mile. I must say that I'd rather stay in Edinburgh than Dublin, if based only on the city itself. The people of Ireland still have the upperhand in generosity and kindness, but Edinburgh is GORGEOUS.
Our first stop was, of course, breakfast. We were absolutely starving. So, we found the Elephant House--the little cafe where J.K. Rowling wrote Harry Potter, looking out the window to Edinburgh castle. (Yeah, it's just right there smack in the middle of the city. This gigantic, ancient, castle, up on the cliff. But don't worry, we'll get there). The restaurant was perfect. There were elephants everywhere- drawings of elephants, pictures of elephants, elephant cartoons, wooden elephants, ivory, glass, jade, stone, and any number of other materials, shapes, and styles. They covered the shelves, and windows, and countertops. And breakfast wasn't bad either. Scrambled eggs and toast. Horribly European. I nearly got the Scottish breakfast, so I could try some Haggis first thing. But the black pudding frightened me off. Ah, well...
Anyway, after that it was off to the Hostel to drop off our things. Once we got ourselves settled in, and chatted with the rather... unique, but friendly, Scottish man in charge, we were off! To the Tartan and Wool Making mill.
Haven't much to say there, I'm afraid. Except that I'm sure I've never seen so many different plaids in one place in my entire life.
After that, we trecked up to Edinburgh Castle! It was 13 pounds well spent, I assure you. I mean, come on, it's a CASTLE for crying out loud! A real one!
Anyway, it was really cool. We stayed for about two hours... walked along the battlements, through the great hal and war memorials, down little passageways, and cobbled walkways. It was like a miniature self contained village. It even had its own church... the oldest buildling in Edinburgh, with tiny stained glass windows in the walls.
I saw the crown jewels and the stone of destiny, and cannons, and swords, and even the changing of the gaurd once or twice... (mm... men in kilts!) But the best part was walking along the walls of that great big castle, staring out over Edinburgh. You can see everything. The wind whips your hair around, and you breath and think... "Scotland!! I'm standing in a castle... in Scotland!" ...
I was convinced today that life couldn't possibly get any better.
We walked down an old switch back path down the mountain, marveling at the height of the castle and the GREEN surrounding us... and then we crossed the train tracks and met the other girls in Princes Park. We sat and talked on the grass there, near the fountain surrounded by flowers, and we relaxed. We laughed so hard we knew we must be absolutely crazy because of how little we'd slept. But it didn't really matter. You know?
Anyway, as we walked the city we saw men with their bag pipes, filling the air with typical Scottish tunes... and we even stopped to chat with one of them. We made our way through the streets, and then through an old, moss covered cemetary. The head stones all fading, and changing from grey to black--streak by streak. Blubells grew thick as weeds, clover grew up the stone walls, and the trees draped their long whispy branches across the monuments...
I love the old things. The real things. The moments of stillness... and history. The moments where you see the things that real people saw, years and years ago. Walk the same streets. Touch the same walls. In a library, or a cemetary, or a castle, or a pub.
We ate dinner, and (for once), had the problem of not being understood, rather than not understanding. It's amazing how an accent can change your own language into something entirely different, and foreign.
I ordered chocolate pie for dessert. It was an absolutely sinful thing to do. But I don't care. It was delicious.
And then, we headed home.
To sleep in our little Hostel, in the wee little town of Edinburgh.
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