Top 10 Things to Do in Edinburgh, Scotland

I previously wrote a Top Ten Things to do in Edinburgh post from that which I’d gathered from here there and everywhere. It was a collection of “Best Of”s from around the internet. Now, having been there, I will regale you all with my own personal preferences.

1. Explore the City
Edinburgh is a fabulous city for walkers. You do not need to take a guided tour, or hop on one of the many (four) bus lines that offer prerecorded or live audio tours of the city. All you need to do is put one foot after the other. Your first stop should be the tourist centre on the North Side of Northbridge. There you can pick up a handful of city maps (you will lose them.) They’re free, and they’re accurate. These maps also have locations of free public toilets! An added bonus. What more could you want? Once you have them, you can plan your own route for three distinct tours: New Town, Old Town, and the West End.

2. Eat Deep-Fried Food
I recommend Bene’s located at 162 Canongate. They have all your favourite foods deep fried. Bear with me here, yes they have fries, and cheese sticks. You can understand that – They also have the Scottish favourite, a deep friend Mars Bar. But wait, there’s more. They deep fry Hamburgers, and Pizza, and Haggis as well. This is not a store for tourists, either. It’s a local haunt. This is truly a cultural experience, and you can grab your bottle of IRN-BRU there as well.

3. Make Your Way to the Top of Calton Hill
There are a number of reasons to hike up Calton Hill. Perhaps you’re looking for a nice walk, or you have a desire to see – up close – all those monuments that have been towering over the city. If it’s a sunny day, the view from the top of the hill offers sights of the city, the ocean, or surrounding towns you didn’t even know existed.

4. Visit the National Gallery of Scotland
The National Gallery of Scotland is located on “The Mound.” It’s in the heart of Edinburgh just West of Waverly Bridge. Aside from being a fabulous free art gallery, it also finds itself one of the city’s hubs. There is a grassy park on which you will always see people picnicking, sunning, and running around on, trying to get a kite into the air, or some other such delightful nonsense. This is also a good spot to see yourself a bagpiper playing for tips. Mind you, more often than not these pipers aren’t Scottish – still, you can keep the dream alive.


The only strange thing about this gallery is that they keep the Scottish collection hidden away in the basement, at the back of the main hall, and down some stairs. Unless you were looking, it can easily be overlooked. I highly recommend you view this area, as it had some of my favourite art, including my now-favourite piece, The Quarrel of Oberon and Titania.

5. Visit the Modern Art Galleris
You thought that you’d seen it all once you visited the National Gallery, but no: there is still the Modern Art Gallery. These too are free. The only slight downside about these galleries is that they are somewhat removed from the city centre. The Dean Gallery is in the North West part of Edinburgh but it can easily be made part of a trip to view the beautiful Dean Village.

6. Take a Trip through the Dean Village
The Village, itself, is worth the time. It’s quaint little area so close to the city that it can be easily overlooked. But try to make time to stroll through the streets, and take in the waterwheels still in operation. Joining the Village and the Modern Galleries is a riverside path called The Waters of Leith walk. It also makes for a beautiful little journey.

7. Lounge Around in Princes Street Gardens
Want to spend a day reading? Enjoy people watching? Looking for a great place to have a picnic? Princes Street Gardens is the place to go. You can walk the short paths, view the flowers (there is a clock here completely covered in them. I mean, sure? Why not?) or grab an ice cream from any number of vendors that make this area their home. But best of all, the view of the castle, overlooking an ornate fountain is one of the best castle views the city has to offer, and believe you me, the city offers a lot of those views.

8. Enjoy the National Museum of Scotland
Do not confuse this for the Museum of Edinburgh, the Museum of Childhood, or the People’s Story Museum (all free, and located within a half mile of each other on the Royal Mile). No, this is the Museum of Scotland (which, you know, is also free. You’d hardly need ever open your wallet in this city!) It is located just across the street from Greyfriars Bobby (literally – turn around in this image, and you’ll see the statue of the Dog.)

This is a fantastic Museum where you can visit Dolly, everyone’s favourite cloned sheep. Don’t be shocked when you find her stuffed, and no longer living though. Even sheep have a time when they must pass.

9. Explore the Bus System
Do not be afraid of the buses. Just grab a Lotian bus map from their store front near Waverly Bridge. From here you’ll want to take the 26 all the way to Portobello Beach. It’s a beautiful beachfront, and an enjoying ride out. If you stay on the bus after the beach, until is stops at Seaton Sands, and then get off on the return you’ll be treated to a lovely vision of the eve stretching oceanfront through the left side window.

10. Make the Journey to The Forth
This will take you out of the city, but the Forth Bridge is so close that a return train ticket is only 6 pounds. The bridge is a Scottish Icon. Feel free to read the Wikipedia article about it. It is not to be missed, and there are few better ways to see it then by walking across the automobile / pedestrian bridge that runs parallel to it. You can read part of my own Bridge Crossing tale here.

Remember:
There is so much to do in this city, and this is a very limited list. I didn’t even touch on the castle itself, or a day trip into Glasgow. Edinburgh is a tourist’s city. It’s as if Disney Land made a “Scotland: The Ride.” It’s not a city to be missed, and most-definitely, if you’re feeling up to it, spend an hour climbing up Arthur’s Seat. What’s that you ask? Oh – the second you get into the city and see it looming over you to the south, you’ll know.

Safe and Sound, back in YYZ

Safe and Sound Back at YYZ.

As I sit on one of the not-quite-luxurious, and by that I mean I’d rather sit on a rumbling eighth century staircase, with my back against a slug covered wall, chairs at Edinburgh Airport our flight attendant walks by. I hear her speak to her partner, “I bet you that plane is not ready. The plane is never ready on time when I’m here.”

This remark gave me pause. I had a connecting flight to make, and I was not one who had any desire to be delayed. Now, I understand that delays are necessary. They are necessary because the airplane gods hate me, and want to punish me for not having booked a direct flight. Overhead they peer down and scoff at the foolish mortal who thought that he would save a dollar here, and a dollar there, and now they just want me to experience the pain of high prices, and annoyed ground crew, disrupted from their world of gossip to actually help a customer – those, whom they may forget, keep them employed.

As I sat, now ever watching the sign reading “ON TIME” waiting for it to flip to “1 MINUTE DELAYED” eventually stretched to “5 HOURS DELAYED” I decided that I should spend the rest of my British pounds. I had no desire for seven McMilkshakes this time around, though the thought of consumption on that level did amuse me. Instead I went to buy airport books. I hate buying things, especially books, at full price but it was a buy one get one half off deal. And when I saw two volumes sitting beside each other I knew I must have them. I knew that they would be the perfect, “I was in Britain,” keepsake: Volume 1 and 3 (2 was not around) of The World According to Jeremy Clarkson, host of Televisions Top Gear. I can only assume they will be full of his hilarious, eloquent, and inane ramblings.

As I returned to my seat, things looked good on the airplane front, but once again I overheard a flight attendant talking to another that would be on our flight, “- - -don’t tell them it’s pink eye. If you tell them it’s pink eye they’ll ground you.”

To which she replied, “well I need the money, and I doubt it’s actually pink eye.”

“Yes, I’m sure it’s not,” another said while taking a step backwards.

The one whose eye was less white than the rest of ours tried to reassure her crew with the statement, “my mother looked at it, and she said it was fine.”

How was this young lady’s mother? Was she a registered Doctor? And I don’t mean in the I’ve written a PhD for the express purpose of forcing all my friends to call me doctor when we’re out and about. Was this girls mother a medical doctor trained enough to identify pinkeye from a glance? Conjunctivitis is nobody’s friend. It is one of the most easily spread of all diseases, and bacterial conjunctivitis is just terrible. Terrible to have, and terrible to see.

But, ten minutes later as we boarded our flight – early I might add – there she was helping us find our seats.

I was quick to forget about my fear though, as the entertainment unit in the seatback in front of me was booted up. The flight would find me watching Monsters vs. Aliens, Race to Witch Mountain, and 17 Again (quite possibly the best movie I’ve ever seen with that plot – and there are many.) Ah airplane movies. Those that you’d never watch were you not forced into a way to tiny seat for way to long, with nothing else to do.

We hopped down in Newark, and I cleared customs quickly (as soon as the agent looked up from his list of middle eastern names, next to flight numbers – seriously! what’s going on here?! – and saw that I was Canadian. He just passed me right through.) And then I was up and down, and safe right back in YYZ. Customs here was a tad more tricky, being asked a number of questions about where I was, and what I did in great specifics. And then I was asked what teachers college I went to. I froze for a moment – 18 hours in transit does nothing to improve my brain – then just guessed, saying a random university, which turned out to be the one I did indeed go to (the powers of the unconscious mind) and I was off.

Safe and sound, back in YYZ.

Busing Around Edinburgh: Outside These City Walls

Ocean Terminal
As I caught the thirty five bus to the Ocean Terminal on my way to see the Royal Britannia I wasn't really sure what I expected. But, I can tell you this, I was not ready for the Ocean Terminal to be a mall. A four storey mall, if the elevator was to be believed – never mind the fact that you pushed a button labeled 2, and even if the ground floor were to be floor one, it still would only make you on floor three – but who has time to argue with an elevator?

And the strange thing is, it's a pretty good mall. With good restaurants. You also get to see the front page of the newspaper from Wednesday May 2, 1945, framed, announcing the death of Adolph Hitler as you walk in.

To walk on the boat would cost ten pounds. I was not prepared for this sacrifice – nor did I intend to actually walk on it. I simply wanted to view it. I chose to walk around the building and try to find access to it. I was blocked on one side by industrial lots, and fences. Perhaps the other side would offer a better view, after all it was labeled “viewpoint and picnic area.”

Oh of course! It too was blocked by industrial zone, and fence. What a great viewpoint. So glad I made it. I took whatever snaps I could, and then grabbed a picture of the model in its case by the ticket office. It was then that I decided I'd done all I could here. I came, I saw – time to head back.


Rosslyn Chapel
It seems that the number fifteen bus exists for one reason, and one reason only. To take visitors from Edinburgh to Rosslin (a confusing town name, as most buildings there are spell Rosslyn with a y.)

Rosslin is a quiet, and peaceful town, where children who live there know the adults greeting them with a wave and a, “hello Martin.” It's the type of place that is mostly a main street, a corner store, and – what I'm sure would have been it's claim to fame – a library with a few hundred books, and one internet terminal. Rosslin is a small community where you would go if you wanted to get away from it all. Then Dan Brown went and screwed it all up!

Featured in The Da Vinci Code, Rosslyn Chapel now draws tourists in great numbers. The only people happy about this, I'd imagine, are the owners of the pubs situated right beside the bus stop. Most of the business there, I'd imagine, is by people waiting for the bus to return forty five minutes after drop off, after they've exited the church.

Entrance fee here is seven pounds, fifty p. Again, nothing I'd be willing to spend, especially when photographs are not allowed inside. I've never understood why pictures are discouraged in religious buildings, and I can't think of any good reason – especially since guidebooks, and other such publications are allowed the privilege.

As of right now most of the building is under repair, and covered in false roofs, and scaffolding. It is not the most picturesque. But, for those that want a shot of the now-famous building, but unwilling to part with their hard earned money, there is a small – partially hidden – path that circles the chapel. Instead of turning into the ticket office, simply push through, following the stones, between wall and brush. Better pictures are offered there, then from inside the wall. A network of hiking trails seems to extend from this location too, worth of a trek if time is permitting.

If you have no desire to say, “I was there,” then the town is probably best avoided. I'm sure the locals will thank you. To be honest, the entire number fifteen bus route is probably best avoided.


Portobello Beach
The number twenty six bus leaving from George Street stretches out to the east of Edinburgh. I disembarked just outside the Portobello Town Hall, and followed the signposts down past public washrooms (always delightfully common in Scottish towns) towards the beach. The sky was slightly overcast but under this Scottish Sunshine people still made their way down to the water. Children played in the waves, frigid despite the summer, while dogs were walked along the sand.

The beach stretched on in both directions, and I could only image what it would be like if the skies, by some accident, happened to be pained blue for an afternoon.

I dipped my toes in the water.

Up the beach was an amusement centre where I pumped 2p coin after 2p coin into a gambling game, where the intent was to have your 2p coin push others onto a secondary platform, and then have that push others into your collection tray. There were times when I was up, and times when I was down. I was only playing with 40p, however, and as such played until I had run out. This took a, far more entertaining than imagined, twenty minutes. Each time I was almost out, one of my coins would cause another great cascade of clinking coins over the edge.

Portobello beach is definitely worth a visit for anyone who finds themselves near Edinburgh.

Seton Sands
I decided to continue on the number twenty six bus all the way to its terminus at Seton Sands. I was rewarded with a delightful trip along the oceans shore, gazing out at the miles and miles of public sandy beach. At one point the bus passed through the town of Preston. This is a town where buildings are covered in painted murals. One of the murals, along the beach front, is actually a map showing the locations of all the other murals in the area. Time and weather permitting, it's worth stepping out and looking around.

At the end of the scenic ride, you'll find yourself at Seton Sands, a very prestigious sounding location, reminding me of Shell Beach from the movie Dark City. Just as in the movie it turned out to be a slight disappointment. Seton Sands, you see, is a trailer park.

Moving On
Once back home after a day riding the Lothian Bus Line there was nothing to do but pack up, and get ready to fly out tomorrow. In the background Michael Jackson's funeral played on BBC2, made slightly more interesting by the BBC commentators who felt the need to critique, and at times insult in their very British way, the speakers and presenters.

And just like that two weeks has come to an end.

Edinburg Bus System / Lothian Bus Edinburgh

Edinburgh is a tourists city. For anyone that wants the European travel experience, with the lease amount of culture shock, Edinburgh is the place to go. Everywhere, and I mean everywhere, within the city centre can be reached within half an hour. There are no subways, or confusing transit systems required. On foot is the best way to get around and explore.

The architecture is different enough to make you feel as if you've been transported back in time hundreds of years, and there are grocery stores, hostels, hotels, and restaurants around just about every corner. The cash machines are free to use, the people are willing to help. There is just one downside:

When Privatization Goes Wrong...
As I said, there is no confusing transit system required to explore the city, but if you feel the need to use it, my goodness you are in for a shock. The less said about the system the better, but I will do my very best to explain it.

The first thing you need to know is that there are far more than one bus line. This is not like New York, London, or Toronto. The main bus lines are First, and Lothian. Then there are the four (count them – four) tour buses that roam the streets. If you're into live guided tours or, on one, prerecorded tours then skip the confusing buy the tour pass, and enjoy some simple busing around, and historic education. But if that's not your cup of tea, or you want to go further than those will allow, you need to make a choice. What line is best for you? I choose Lothian. Not only is it only three pounds for a day ticket, the maps were also easily available at the bus centre on Wavery bridge.

Looking at your map, you need to figure out where you want to go. What route number is it? O.K. now that you've figured that out, find out what color line it is on the “outside of the city centre” portion of the map. Great, now see what letter that exits the city from (exit A, B, C, etc.) Now turn the map around and see what colour that line is within the city centre (because keeping them the same would just be idiotic, of course.) Now that you know that, check out where you can catch it. Most buses are best caught on either Waverly bridge, or George street. Hop on board, and hope for the best.

There are no updates from the driver as to where you are. There are no scrolling text updates letting you know where you are. There are no big names on the bus stops when you pass them, and even if there were it wouldn't matter because the stops are not listed on your route map. How anyone decided this was a good system is beyond me. How anyone learns how to find their way is of even bigger concern. The best bet is to look outside, and try to read names on buildings. Headed to a specific town? Look out the window, if any buildings have that name as part of it such as [town name] general store, well then you best push the stop button, and hop on out. You'll probably find there was a better stop, closer to where you wanted, but were you really willing to risk it?

Trying to find a specific tourist spot? When the bus empties, you're probably there.

As I said, once you get on that bus, you just have to trust your instincts and hope for the best. Such is the Edinburgh mass transit system.

Despite the confusion it presents, it is a very long reaching service, extending miles and miles in every direction, taking your just about anywhere you could want. Often times it is a much better option than the train could ever hope to be.

Headed out to explore the land beyond these city walls? Enjoy. And good luck!

They're Watching Me

Someone is watching my every movement. They know when I leave the city; they know when I return to the city. This much I've figured out, but where they are and how they've managed to track me these last two weeks still remains a mystery. Communicating, no doubt, with pigeons it could be a whole group of people on constant survey. I imagine the transmissions go something like this:

Black Night – target has left the building, is walking up Royal Mile
Radiant Dawn – rain prepared over.
Black Night – abort! target has turned into waverly station. Repeat, target has turned into waverly station. commence sun shine initiative.
Radiant Dawn – cloud burner activate, blue skies in five... four... three...

and so on and so forth. As I said, I've no idea how they stay so well informed of my movements, but there you have it. As I was back in Edinburgh, and someone must have known, the skies became overcast once again. The clouds piled together once again. Rain fell from the sky. Once. Again.

Oh, I see – you don't believe this is truth? You don't imagine the imps carrying on around me, reporting back to their nefarious weather controlling leader? Well how else do you explain that – even though it called for thunderstorms, the moment I went to Glasgow the sun came out? How do you explain that when I went to the Highlands, the weather was not poor. Yes the instance I returned to the city... Well then, there you have it. Proof positive.

But never mind that. The rain gave me reason to pause, to not hurry through the city, and to – finally – enjoy my time here. In fact, it's safe to say that until the hour of five o'clock, when I decided to head out on a mission to obtain a bottle of IRN-BRU I did absolutely nothing all day. And it really was marvelous.

My mission to find IRN-BRU, as it turned out, ended in failure, when upon reaching the doors of Super Drug it was discovered that for the price of one IRN-BRU, I could get two bottles of Tango (bursting with flavour, fruit soda.) I picked up the apple I'd been meaning to grab for some time, and a cherry. I'm going to be honest right now. I do not know who would ever drink the apple soda. One 500ml bottle of it costs one pound, nine p. For only twenty p more you could buy a 2000ml bottle of apple cider, which is 4.2% alcohol, and tastes exactly the same. Four times as much, and with bonus alcohol! Who is drinking this other, more cost-ineffective, soda?

I also grabbed a can of Pepsi RAW. I have not seen it since London, six months ago. It's Pepsi, but made with all natural ingredients that you will have no problem pronouncing. Quite wonderful really, though I've not seen it in Canada.

My day was no spent waiting for this beverage urge to overtake me, mind you. It was spent hiding under trees, in galleries, and under overhangs trying to find a dry place to read Bill Bryson's “In a Sunburned Country.” Finally my full day of reading had arrived.

At five thirty it was off to the bar, then out for groceries, and that was that. A lovely end to a lovely day. With only one more full day remaining, it will soon be time to think about packing up, and heading out. But, I can put that off for another twenty four hours, I'm sure.

No Castles in Glasgow

There are no castles in Glasgow... But there are dragons.
Sunday! Sunday! Sunday! ...and Saturday... As well as Monday afternoon, with two showings Friday and Thursday. Dragons have invaded Glasgow – terrible giant monsters. Well,, maybe not dragons, but definitely dinosaurs! It's true. I saw it on the cover of “The Report” (a free newspaper I pick up when I can, because they have the T.V. listings.)

I had been planning on taking a day trip to Glasgow, and with this new development, why not today? If I was going to go, spending long stretches of time on the rails, beside old men trying their best, and usually failing, to stay awake – all the while blowing bubbles with saliva, snot, and who knows what else from every major orifice, well then I was going to do so to risk life and limb seeing dinosaurs duking it out in the Exhibition Centre, amongst a host of other onlookers, ready to brave this scaly invasion. But fear not, gentle reader, for I was prepared. I have watched all six episodes of Prehistoric Park, and seasons one and two of Primeval. I understand how these time portals effect Great Brittan, and I am ready!


The Polaroid of Perfection
As I stepped off the train, I immediately noticed the differene between Edinburgh and Glasgow. Edinburgh survives on tourism, and as such most of the people there are too busy looking around with their eyes to the sky to, say, notice the man whose shirt is soaked through with sweat, and whose hair is plastered towards his face, suffering from the noonday sun. In Glasgow they are not.

A great number of streets have been shut down to traffic, making them a haven for stylish shoppers to peruse a variety of stores, while also managing to show off for those around them. Welcome to the International fashion show that is Buchanan Street. It is here that you can get sideways glances of scorn, incredulousness, and pity all in the time it takes to take half a step. Europe's most fashionable backpackers are here – and believe me, Europe has some fashionable backpackers. It is not the overly hairy hipsters, or the socially disavowed who take to the world stage, as is so often the case from North America. In Europe it is the youthful, the vivacious, the – well, the mind set in much of Europe and Australia is, “I've finished high school, I'm nineteen. Let's take to the open road.” Let's just leave it at that, shall we?

I don't consider myself old. I'm only twenty six, but apparently a combination of my shorts, button up, SPF embedded shirt (now with more sweaty-stick goodness), and sandals with oh so practical toe covering did nothing to impress those who seemed dressed for an evening out, in long black dresses with plunging necklines, or formfitting minis. The men, with their silk shirts, top three buttons undone, arms around who I'd be sure must have been supermodels, except for the packs on their back (I'm sure super models have adoring fans who would clamor at the chance to take on such punishment,) seemed equally unimpressed.

Oh look, long haired, printed t-shirt wearing, unshaven hipsters. Like a warm bubble bath. Honestly, who wears heels backpacking? Style can only take you so far. Once you hit the cobble stone... Well, at least when you fall, there will be a number of people there to pick you up.

East Argyle street? It's pretty much the same, except the self-titled popular sit in the middle of the passing crowds, judging from their place upon park benches (there's also a merry-go-round here!) It is my philosophy that if someone makes you feel awkward, the best defence is to out-awkward them. So go on, sit your sweaty self between the two people who think their whispering, and join the conversation! Perhaps you'll make a new friend?

Probably not though.


Getting Around Glasgow
From train station to subway station. My DK Eyewitness Travel Guide seemed to think that Glasgow is only one quarter its actual size, which is all fine and well for the fifty-something year old traveller who does no feel the same wonderment and excitement as I do towards dinosaurs. But me? I had to reach – what is apparently a terrible place, off the map, where even angels fear to tread. So my first step was aquiring a map.

This is always a key items to have. A map of a city is like a – well, in The Legend of Zelda, maps are held in treasure chests, and once you've obtained it, dungeons become much more bearable. The same is true for cities. But as there are no randomly placed chests here, and my guidebook fails me, I had to use my cunning, and my wits to obtain a map. Where do the best (free) maps come from? Why, exactly where I was. The subway station! Asking for a ride-guide, I was rewarded with a layout of the city that far exceeded the limitations brought to me by DK. Now I could see where I needed to go, but there was no subway station near it!
No one pound forty would take me where I needed. Apparently, however, there was a train station that would take me right to the Centre, and by proxy, dinosaurs. Great. Back up the stairs, back to the street, back to the train station. Like it would be hard to run a tunnel that connects them both?

“One ticket to the Exhibition Centre please.” I braced myself for the price. Whatever it was, I'd have to pay it. I could walk back later, but I wanted to ensure my tickets as quick as possible. If I spent half an hour getting there, just to see the last ticket sold out to some smarmy child in a T-Rex hat, and Brontosaurus t-shirt, well then I would explode into a rage devastating the entire city, as if I had been roused from the ocean for just this very purpose, spewing forth radiation, and leaving nothing but giant footprints in my wake. Better I should get the last ticket, the small child would be far less likely to rampage. Plus, he'd have his T-Rex hat for solace.

“That'll be one pound, twenty. Do yo want it return?” I queried how much that would cost, “one pound twenty five.”

Five p? Five p?! For five p I could get a return ticket, allowing me to be lazy, and travel in style, rather than walking back across the city? Who are these people who don't get return tickets? Wouldn't buying a one way shot be like admitting, “yes, I am going to try to hide in the science centre tonight and watch as all the exhibits come to life – oh the wonders of being chased around by balls with lightening inside, that move when my hand is placed upon it!”

Covered walkway from Station to Centre. Oh isn't that lovely, so when it snows people can be nice and warm. Does it even snow here? Yes, you'd think the covered walkway would be a very delightful addition, welcomed by all. What they don't tell you, as you step foot into this red rimed hallway of death, is that – because there are no windows, nor ventilations, only walls and walls of glass – you are about to suffer through twists, and turns, and meters upon meters of greenhouse entrapment! Whoever designed this – whoever thought, people don't need fresh air – something terrible needs to happen to them! So much for my semi-dry shirt, cooled by the trains A/C. It just was not meant to be. Children everywhere were screaming, “I'm roasting! I'm roasting!” Others were amusing themselves by making Batman action figures flip around in midair. Jealous.

Tickets secured, I headed back into the city. I had three hours to kill, and I was going to make the most of them!

Glasgow: City on the Go!
[the following is best read in your favourite world war two news real / old timey inner monologue.] The year in two thousand and nine, and you are visiting Glasgow. Yes, Glasgow is a city on the go, always moving, constantly pressing forwarding in new, exciting and interesting ways. Why there you are at the City Chambers, why aren't all those statues lovely? And whose that towering over head? If it isn't Sir Walter Scott himself. Hello Walter!

Take a picture here, or wait – because you'll be back. One can't help avoid the pull of George Square, and this lovely view. Buildings, statues, and greenery. Oh-My indeed, Dorthy.

Next up on your tour is the Gallery of Modern Art. Ahh the GOMA. Fun to say, isn't it? Try it along with us now. GOMA! Inside you'll see works of art unheard of. Have you always wanted to rip up a bible, or write yourself back into it, beause your group of people have been left out, or edited away throughout the years? Then there's an exhibit just for you! Do you want to become an activist and help fight injustices to the LGBT community? There's an exhibit (and even more exciting informational pamphlets) for you! Yes – no trip to the GOMA is complete without a viewing of the top floor Sh(out) exhibit, I say.

Now head over to the north west where the Provald's Lordship (Glasgow's only medieval house, said with disdain, as if other cities have a half dozen you'll see before breakfast!) and the St. Mungo's museum. You don't even have to go in to enjoy the sights at this one. No, you definitely do not. And who's that? Dr. Livingston, I presume?

Finally head to the west, and explore the rest that the city has to offer. Get a good taste, because it's just a short trip, and it's rush rush rush to see this city that's: On-The-Go!


Walking with Dinosaurs
The moment had arrived. I was going to see what I had spent the remainder of my spending money on (only the most expensive tickets remained.) And what a venue to see it. In my mind Scotland and dinosaurs had been inseparable ever since I first heard the words, “Welcome... to Jurassic Park.”

What I was about to bear witness to was two hours of prehistoric amazement, and - “sir, you can't take pictures here.” - what?! No pictures. I come to see dinosaurs, and I can't take pictures? Why? Because they're not allowed. No, others are shooting. Because of the flash? Fine, I'll turn it off, and up the ISO. No, because my camera is “too good.” It's considered professional equipment. Look – it's not my fault that I don't have a pocket sized camera. But it's not a SLR. Once again, it's no my fault high end non-SLRs were made, confusing your “banned / not-banned” equipment. I tell you what, when the show starts, I'll be dark, and I'll shoot away. You should probably concentrate on the people who didn't turn their flashes off like the announcement said, anyway.

Pictures were taken. Damn the man, save the Empire, and all that.

Puppeteers moved inside the most lifelike costumes I'd ever seen. But what did I expect from a BBC production, created in part with the many Dinosaur “Documentary” shows? You could see mussels move, and veins pressing against the wrinkled skin. They moved with the expert motion of trained puppeteers, and naturalists. They blinked, just as they should, and as often as they should. These were not people in dinosaur suits. These were dinosaurs. And all built to scale, easily – and impressively – seen against the main actor, our time travelling paleontologist. It would be he that guided us through the various eras, and explained all the fights, flights, and frights along the way.


Heading Home
Glasgow. What a city, and what a difference. I'm glad I saw it, and I'm equally glad that I was heading home to Edinburgh. It's nice to wake up in a quiet town, secure in the knowledge that the big city is only a train ride away. What a change a hundred thousand people can bring about.

As I stepped off the train in Edinburgh I noticed something. Something odd... Something off... Why, those were blue skies! Blue skies over Edinburgh! Suddenly I was brought to life, and everything was worth taking a picture of. Small shop? Sure! Impressive building I have twenty pictures of already? Let's add another! Blue skies! Blue skies over Edinburgh!

And the city knew it too. Street vendors were out, and patios were filled. This was the city as I'd not yet seen it. Oh what a day can do.

Biggest thunderstorm of the season? Yeah right. I'm on to you... weather man.

Getting to Glasgow from Edinburgh

Take the train from Edinburgh to Glasgow.
Had enough of Edinburgh? Just want to take a break? Why not take a daytrip to the city of Glasgow?

How does one get to Glasgow from Edinburgh, and how much does it cost? An excellent question, and the answers are quite varied. Step one is getting down to Waverly Station. Almost every bus stops on Waverly Bridge, so no matter where you are, you can get there without much fuss. If you're near the city centre, just walk. It's your best bet. Now you have to find the ticket sales office. I recommend the automatic machines, as you avoid all the lines, and can check all your options without feeling rushed.

Right away three options present themselves, for your day trip: a single day return, a single day return off peak hours, and a single day return National Express lines only. The final option also has peak / off peak options. So what is best for you?

Straight away you'll see that the off peak hours are much cheaper. For the normal lines it's thirteen pounds return, instead of eighteen. And if you want the National Express only line, it's only seven pounds off peak.

So why get the more expensive tickets? If you want to leave Glasgow between four thirty p.m. and six fifteen p.m. then you will want to avoid the off peak hours ticket, but if you do plan on spending the day there, then save your money and stock up on IRN-BRU instead. It'll keep you hydrated on the trip across: four cans from the pound shop. Much cheaper than on the cart.

You'll notice the National Express is even cheaper, but be warned – they run every two hours, so the soonest one you can get is around 8:20 p.m. if you have the peak hours ticket.

Again, I recommend the off peak hour return ticket to Glasgow Central / Glassgow Queen Street Station.

Again, what does this mean? Well Glasgow has a great many train stations, and checking your handy schedule pamphlet you will want to find the best for you. You didn't grab a schedule? Ohh, well there's a big rack right best the ticket machines. Just pick two up. One for Edinburgh -> Glasgow Central and one from Edinburgh -> Glasgow Queen Street. Central station is more convenient, but the Queen Street station is only a three minute walk from the downtown area, and instead of once an hour, trains come and go between the two largest cities in the country every fifteen minutes.

Leaving from Queen Street Station, you can get out of Glasgow at 6:30, and be back in Edinburgh a few minutes before 7:30. At less than an hour each way, and at a price that's right, this is a day trip you won't want to miss.

E09: An Inside Kind of Day

With the weather somewhat gloomy I thought, “hey, what better time than to wander through all the many museums and parliament buildings I've been avoiding out of fear of boredom.” Step one, head down to the bottom of the Royal Mile and check out parliament. I'd been told you can see politicians debate, and if I've learned anything from flipping past C-SPAN on my way to more entertaining channels, it's that watching old men scream and curse at each other... well it's not half bad.

Unfortunately parliament was closed today – come back tomorrow!

As I started walking back up the mile, I noticed that people were an awful lot more kiltish today. And the women were very goth-loli. I'm talking tiny little hats with the odd feather and lace, pinned on to the top of their heads, with classy looking dresses. Had i just arrived in Scotland I might think that this was how people dressed everyday, as that is what television has prepared me to assume, but no. I knew better. This style of dress followed me around all day. I was told it might be because the Queen may have come to town today. She does spend the month of July here. No one could tell me for sure, except for those who were dressed to impress. I never thought to ask them.


Stop one on my indoorsey trip (seeing as how my initial destination seemed not to want outlandish tourists traipsing through this day) was The People's Story. Being part of the United Kingdom, most museums, galleries, and other such buildings whose express purpose was to educate, admission was free. I would recommend that anyone who finds themselves in the daring city of Edinburgh with thirty minutes to kill stop on by. It's right on the main tourists strip, so just about everyone is bound to pass by it once or twice.

Mannequins, displays, and audio clips are set up in tableaux representing a number of important stages in Edinburgh's development. The first thing you'll notice is labour rights, and pre-union strikes. Peer into the jail cell and see those who were locked up for daring to stop work in order to force better pay. Upstairs featured information on women's rights, voting, and the workforce, as well as life during world war II Edinburgh.

The most important piece to be found, of course, is Rodney Relax, punk. Why, he uses sugar, egg whites, and soap in his hair to make it stand straight up. He is an attention seeker and his parents do not approve!

If you can stop your giggles after reading Mr. Relax's psychedelic sign you should continue your journey up the Mile to the Children's Museum. This is a museum celebrating childhood, and everything that it entails.


You remember that white and rainbow striped Raleigh bike you owned all those decades ago? They've got one of those proudly on display. Tin soldiers, dolls, alphabet books (a real delight for me), and all the train sits, miniatures, and race cars you could imagine. This is what the museum has to offer. Photography is allowed, and encouraged here... except... EXCEPT in gallery five.

Look, it's not that there's anything particularily fabulous is gallery five that doesn't exist elsewhere. You'll simply find a tableaux of students in a classroom, speaking in unison (how are we speaking class? In unison!) going through their eight times tables. It's not that this is any better than the other toy filled galleries, but because you are told not to take pictures there, it's the only place that you really want to photograph! This is some secret garden, don't eat the apple, stay out of your father office, type stuff going on! ...I may or may not have video recorded said times table repetition.

Well, I'd taken forbidden photographs, failed to get one place I wanted, and succeeded at another. What was I to do no... ohh look, the sun is coming out!


That's right, for a full forty minutes the sun was shining overhead, and my back was warm. I felt good, the day looked good, smiles returned for all. So what else could I do? I went to the park and read some more of my book. If I thought that smiles had returned for me, they must have really returned for the couples in the middle of the grass. It's not so much that they were kissing as it was that they were licking each others tongues. And it's not so much that they were lying next to each other, as it was on each other.

Love was definitely in the air for the couples who were coming up the stairs from Waverly Station, finding themselves ready to... express themselves... under the afternoon sun.

I continued to read my book.

The sun decided that it was no longer wanted, and so it took its ball and went home. Behind clouds. Where it was more happy. As the couples disengaged from one another, I too thought it best to move on. The National Gallery was only a few minutes away, located at Princes Street and the Mound, so I continued to both culture and educate myself in the free galleries of Scotland.

Unlike the two galleries I had visited yesterday, this one was very well established. Walking in, I knew that I had found the best art that Edinburgh had to offer. Unfortunately the best pieces in the whole museum (aside from Mischievous Monkeys, located on the first floor) were kept in the Scottish collection. Now this, to you, may sound fantastic, and it kind of is. It's great that the local art is the shining collection, however it would be nicer if that collection wasn't hidden away in the basement accessible only if you navigate to the end of the main floor, with no real signage. Also, it would be nice if there was air conditioning in that collection too.

I asked an employee with the galleries why the collection was hidden away. She, herself, was confused. This room is a highly recommended stop for anyone interested in the arts. The two highlights for me were both painted by Sir. Joseph Noel Paton, The Quarrel of Oberon and Titania, and The Reconciliation of Oberon and Titania. Both of them feature a scene from Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream, and both are so detailed that you could literally spend hours searching through them to discover everything that is going on. Each painting contains nearly one hundred and fifty individual faeries.

I would have loved to purchase poster sized versions of these piece, but there were none available. I did pick up the postcards, but the colours were so dark that they hardly do justice to the piece. I will seek out larger versions in the near future.

Bong! Bong! Bong! Bong! Bong!

Five O'clock. Edinburgh was shutting down. Shops were locking up, galleries were shoving people through the doors, parks were closing their gates for the night. Though the light lasts until ten o'clock, the city shuts down quite early. Time for dinner!


And where better than Jimmy Chung's Chinese buffet?! I'd known it was simply a matter of time before I stopped in. Now, let me tell you, this is a Chinese buffet with a twist. The twist being, there are no chopsticks available! What type of Chinese buffet is without chopsticks? Chinese food tastes wrong, feels wrong, is just simply wrong when eaten with a fork. I found myself twirling my noodles as if they were spaghetti. What had I become? Now you can call me a food snob, a purist, obsessive compulsive, but I'll have you know that there was another person there making similar complains.

Mind you the person looked like, despite other aspirations, he would never achieve anything more than bass player in his garage band. Never would he be lead singer. Not even rhythm guitarist. I am defeated.

E09: Straight from the Notebook

TFC jersey, Canadian flag bandanna. On the train to North Queensferry to see the Forth Bridge.

“What's your name? How old are you?” In front of me are three Scots that work for one of the annoying money collecting fund raising things that harass you all around Edinburgh. Who gives bank information for monthly withdrawals to random people on the street?! I've learned their secret though. Say you're under 25, and they must leave you alone... after directing you to their website.

At North Queensferry. I can see the bridge, but I can't get to it! A deaf woman mimes directions to me. There is a foot path beyond the bushes across the field.

From the bridge I see the town. This is an RPG town – no doubt about it. There's a sea port, quaint cottages around it, a central town built in a circle, and one lone house surrounded by forest! Final Fantasy VII come to life! The huge train bridge also helps the allure.


There is a urinal, fenced off, on the bridge. I get inside. There's nowhere else for the next 1.5 miles. It's cramped, dark, and rumbles with the passing cars and the shaking bridge. This is like being in a shuttle before launch! Terrifying, exhilarating. This is peeing in style!

Construction vehicles keep driving on the pedestrian walkway. I'm only slightly terrified.

Just as I cross the end of the bridge, the cold comes.

Follow the red pedestrian path, painted on the ground, to the left and p the stairs. Plaque and benches are set upon a platform perfect for viewing both bridges.

It's hard to imagine such dedication to a project. Ten years to build the latest bridge? The two years waiting for the New Edinburgh tram line seems like it will take forever.

South Queensferry is beyond my grasp to explore. You'd think it easy, once over the bridge. I can see it clear as day. Two kids scamper over their backyard play equipment down there, but I am at a loss.

Once more over the bridge.

Ohh look – rain clouds. Once more over the bridge... quickly!

“Cryostore... Gases for science, leisure, and industry.” ...leisure?!

Emerging from the footpath I am met with suspicion by two others playing with their children on the park outside the North Queensferry community centre. It's not as if I'm going to eat their babies – though I am a bit peckish.

The train rumbles and squeals as it passes over the bridge. White noise to thse who live here.

Ten to two, back at Waverly Station. Windows do nothing. This train needs air conditioning.

A grocery store in a train station is genius The idea of mixed drinks in a can? Those I'm still not sure f, even if your Harvey Wallbanger is made with two full measures of vodka, Mr. Mark, and Mr. Spencer.

Seriously now – how defeated does a society have to be before it says, “sure, ok, paying for the privilege to go to the bathroom sounds both fair and reasonable.” I don't care that it is only 20p, the whole concept is ridiculous. And in a mall food court? I am tempted to use the free “disabled” washroom... But I do not. Not when I know the art gallery is only three minutes away, housing both free washrooms, and a chance to re-visit my faerie painting.

Pay to use the washroom?! Honestly – who does that?!

The time has come! A week ago I saw this park outside the gallery and thought that I just wanted to sit on the grass and read, with nothing else to do. Success!

My lunch – a picnic of champions. One can of Cloudy Lemonade, one an of Dandelion and Burdock, one bag of rhubarb and custard jellies, one bag of Belgium chocolate covered California raisins. Now that's health conscious!

Upon further inspection the Rhubarb and Custard candies are not jellies. My teeth hurt.

Point of order: Dandelions make for great soda.

Right... Right.... The rain! So much for the picnic. Never have yo seen so many people put on their clothes and run for cover so fast. No more dancing around in underwear for you, people by the tree! Strange, if my memory from Woodstock '99 serves, it's when the rain begins that people start dancing around in their underwear. Perhaps drugs were the X-Factor there?

I thought it rained before. How foolish I was. Now this – this is rain.


The rain stopped suddenly. I came up from under my hood – right in front of Greyfrier's Bobby. I'd been meaning to track down this puppy statue.

Right across the road? The museum. Why not?

...”Why not,” a saying that reminds me of Billy Mays – infomercial champion. Slightly tragic as he died yesterday.


And there's The Maiden – used to cut off the heads of one hundred and fifty people, and there's a rocket, and there's “What it means to be Scottish,” a video with lots of talking heads!

Free audio tour?! Free? I must have missed that first word on the way in.

“Wait until the girl leaves to take your picture.” I turn around. “Oh. It's a man.” You know, American tourists, not everyone crops their hair so short! I grew a great big beard just to avoid situations like this. True story.


Halfway across he city. I walked halfway across the city to drink Moosehead?! I don't even like Moose Head, but it's Canadian, and it is Canada day, so national pride has to mean something. This seems to be the only Canadian beer in the entire city... but Moosehead?

Everybody loves to hear the sound of my voice! Especially nearing midnight! Especially when it's me singing Oh! Canada as loud as I could, skipping down the road.

Scotland has taught me the wonders of deep fried foods. And it is terrifying. Chips and Mars Bars I can understand, though the Mars Bar still seems a little odd. But deep friend pizza? We're talking, you make a pizza and then cook it up proper in an oven. Then you deep fry it in a big vat of boiling animal fat! 50p cheaper than the non-deep fried version.

You think that that is as messed up as it gets, buy no. Imagine a hamburger. Now imagine that that hamburger contains a secret, its centre is liquid cheese! Now imagine that you coat that burger in batter, deep fry it, throw it on a bug, and coat it with brown sauce!

Oh Scotland, how you're trying to kill me so.

E09: Grey Again...

Once again the skies are grey, and the mood is less than fantastic here around town. Yesterday's smiles have been replaced with focused walks heading from point a to point b. There are no roses being smelled, nor are their dances being danced as people skip across the road – often in front of oncoming traffic, as they are unaware most intersections here operate on scramble crossings, and the don't walk signs really are to be heeded.

The weather man has clarified his statement yesterday, “just because it's a heat wave doesn't mean it's a sun wave. There is all likelihood that the heat will be accompanied by cloud, rain, and perhaps thunder.” No doubt he retracted his statement due to the many threats on his life for his debauchery. What a charming man.

Antique shows can entertain me only so long. Soon I will head out to visit the local Museum, and galleries on the Mound. But now? Now it's time to extract my chips from the oven, and consme!

E09: It got Better...

So... Umm...

The day, as days so often do, got better. By about noon I had taken to the streets, and while they were initially chilly, by the time I reached Drummond and South Bridge the sun started to burn away the mist, leaving faint traces of blue overhead. As I continued on the route I had drawn the day before I noticed something odd about the people walking past me. They were dressed a lot more cloak-ier than usual. Indeed, in seemed everyone I passed was wearing a red cloak with black trim, or black cloaks with sleeves that could be spun like propellers, and a hood that flailed left and right as the wearers walked.

Clearly Edinburgh was going through a terrible fashion crisis, or – music was playing... Perhaps the answers to my questions would be found there. I walked towards - - -


Ohh! Street art! For the first time since I arrived, I saw somewhat decent graffiti. Just to the left of Potterrow Port there was a wall of art, with spray paint cans still lying on the ground. These pieces seemed to be, rather than detailed designs, a celebration of colour. Though the last piece was a well constructed dragon, the true beauty in this path was the gestalt creation that each piece blending into one another, surrounding the pedestrians, created.

- - - Oh right, the music, and the people what looked like they were on their way to Hogwarts for their final year of witchcrafty, and wizardry nonsense.


As it turned out, there was no new trend, nor were people cosplaying their favourite warlock. Sadly, it was not even a new cult devoted to the worship of Yogsoth, Cthulhu, or any of the other Elder Gods. It was simply the graduation of those who attended Edinburgh University. Good for them. I'm sure their parents were proud, and that this was a big day for them. It even afforded me some interesting pictures. But – me and Edinburgh University have some problems, you see. Sure they're great, and they blanket the city in wifi access: but their wifi access is for university students only, who have logins, and student numbers, and passwords, and the like. Now this, this wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't for the fact that there are so many “CENTRAL” networks that they fill up my entire “searching for open network” list, and because they start with “C” they're almost always at the top preventing me from easily seeing what other hotspots might exist. Curse you Edinburgh University. You and your - - -

Ohh a Labyrinth! This was no walled prison, nor was it a garden row. David Bowie appeared nowhere near this, though I'm sure you could find his suitable action figure at the Forbidden Planet down the street. This was a labyrinth built with pebbles in a university park. The idea was to walk around it, and let your mind clear. Let the world fade away. Let thoughts simply come to you.


The whole thing could be skipped over. One could simply walk over it, across all the lines, in three or four strides. But I felt that I needed to slow down. To think. To stop doing what I feel I should do, and really spend some time thinking about what I wanted to do. Following the tour guides is great and all, but it's the small moments that you could never expect or plan for that create lasting memories. It's the moments between the moments that truly matter – and as I spent seven or eight minutes walking the curling paths as they double, and then re-double backed on themselves I began to truly take in this philosophy.

As I continued on I choose to visit the Meadows, a grassy park just south of Lauriston Place. It was here that I first felt the heat of the day upon me, an noticed the horizon was lined with blue. Perhaps the weatherman had not been the terrible purveyor of falsehoods that I initially thought he was.


Now, I know I've mentioned the fact that Edinburgh has a castle in the middle of it, looming above on a big rock faced cliff. I'm not sure if it's that this was the first time I saw it during the day, or if this was the first time I saw it, without the weather being a terrible gloom, but when I saw it this time – I really saw it. Looking at it overhead, as the sun played tricks on the outcroppings, I wanted to tell everyone I passed that there was truly a castle overhead: as if they'd missed it all this time, or not fully noticed it, as I had. I mean, really think about it. A castle. In the middle of your city. Close your eyes, and picture your own city. Now add a real-life castle smack dab in the middle, on a giant cliff. That's amazing!

So amazing, that having finished my walk, I decided not to head back home. I decided to head into the village of Dean.

As it turns out, what one decides to do, and what one ends up doing are two very different things. At first everything was looking promising. I saw water that powered the waterwheels on the mills, and I chatted briefly with a couple of locals who jumped a fence, and waded into the river to illegally catch trout. Then I ran across a kindly old lady. It's always the ones you least suspect. So eager was she to help, that she took my tiny map and, without her bifocals, started telling me where I was and where I was headed. How could I argue with a kindly old lady? To get where I wanted to go, she said, I should walk along side the river on the Water of Leith Walkway.


It was a beautiful riverside walk, and one I would highly encourage anyone to take, if they find themselves in the area. Many hellos and good afternoons were exchanged with people walking their dogs, taking full advantage of the first sun in days. However, when I finally realized that I was not in the village of Dean, and that I was most likely not going to end up there any time soon, I bailed and found myself in the suburbs with great houses, and lovely gardens. I also, as it would prove, found myself no longer on my map.

Yes this kindly old lady who attempted to do me a favour (or acted as I hope I will when I become old, purposefully leading people astray to add some sort of amusement to her own day) had placed me far from the familiar. Twenty minutes later, and I would find myself at the Dean Gallery, and the Gallery of Modern Art, located on Belford Road in the west end.


Though not where I had intended to end up, the surrounding area was quite picturesque and the galleries themselves (admission free) were worth a look. If you'd ever wanted to see a full sized sheep contained in a glass box full of formaldehyde, this is your chance! Ahh modern art.

The heat was failing, and with that the fog descended once more. But no worries, as these few hours had proved to me that nice days were possible in this country. Having come once, they would certainly return again. All I had to do was wait.

A quick stroll through the West Princes Street Gardens, and a brief pause to read Christopher Moore's Practical Demonkeeping, and I was back home, with nothing at all bothering me.

Except for the car alarm -
Going off right outside my window -
For the last twenty minutes!

E09: Let's Call the Whole Thing Off

Alright, I get it. It's Scotland, and it's rainy... But I've had it! I've had it with waking up to grey overcast skies, and a brisk chill blowing through the never open, yet never quite shut windows. I've had it with the dreary horizon that is constantly covered in mist, destroying every photograph I take. The weather man says that there's a heat front moving in. In fact, he says that people really need to watch out, and that they should even sprinkle their bedsheets with water before they go to bed to help with the cooling process. But I know this for what it truly is. A filthy lie! Even as he says this, the weather map shows rain clouds frowning, and dropping their luxuriously liquid contents onto the fair cities of Edinburgh, Glasgow, and the rest of the country! Does he truly expect us not to see through this treachery? We should sprinkle our bedsheets with water, should we? Why not just leave the window open, and allow the rain to constantly fall upon me as I sleep? Will that help me to stave off immanent heat related dead Mr. TV Weatherman, with your graphics that don't match your words, and your smarmy haircut, your speech therapized accent, and your words, not one of which are to be believed?! Will that help?!

You know, earlier in the year me and my housemate had only a Super Nintendo and a couch in our apartment. We would play the game Top Gear 2, which is a racing game that takes you to courses all over the world. When you arrive in Scotland, there is no scrolling background, no double layer of buildings, and stereotyped imagery. There is only grey. Grey that coveres the course, the background, and all the cars in front of you. This, according to the game, is Scotland. I used to think this was just a clever way to avoid paying your art team to design another country. But now? Now I can tell you that this is an absolutely true depiction of the country! And would that piper please stop playing! And could the driver of the tour bus kindly turn down her speaker as she passes this building every hour on the hour?! And could I please have, if only for twenty three and a half minutes, some blue-freaking-sky?!

E09: Exploring New Town

Maps, splayed out in front of me I scribbled on one computer printout, planning routes on another, comparing to locations marked on a third, while copying down necessary information from a fourth. After a good thirty minutes of planning, and scribbling leaving my travelling companion a mess of blue ink, arrows, and overlapping trails, I was ready to head out. As I planned my route, I had clearly overshot my limitations, assuming that I could see all of New Town, and all of Old Town in a single journey. While this was not to be, I did manage my tour through New Town, saving the rest for the journey for another day.

As I headed down the Royal mile, turning North onto New Street, I headed towards Calton street. My initial plan was to wander down Calton, over to Waterloo, leading towards the path that headed up Calton Hill. However, right at the bottom of New Street I could see a doorway built into the opposing wall. Above this portal was a sign labeling it as Jacob's Ladder. While I do enjoy following maps, especially routes of my own construction, as many will tell you, I do quite love alleys, and other strange passages. So, precariously planning was thrown aside, and through Jacob's Ladder, I went. It turned out to be a staircase, followed by a steep ramp, once again turning into a staircase. Rather than winding around the rough elevation of Edinburgh, this path simply said: no, this is ridiculous. These switchback roads are too much. I'm simply going up!


And up it went, right to the mouth of the path leading to the top of Calton Hill. On the hill, there were a number of monuments. Many were surrounded by scaffolding, and undergoing construction. There was an old observatory, a monument left unfinished due to funding cuts, created with Roman style pillars, and a structure built with rocks taken from historic locations such as the streets of Paris, and the concentration camps at Auschwitz.

From the top of Calton Hill, beautiful views of Arthur's Seat, towering over cometary, city, and my apartment were offered. From the other side, a view of the surrounding towns could be seen stretching out towards the water. As I took photo after photo from high upon the hill, I was struck with one thought: if somehow it ever manages to stop raining, and I am blessed with a sunny day and a blue sky, I'm going to have to come all the way back up here once more.


Regent Terrace to Hillside Crescent offered views of a quieter Edinburgh, where the activity of tourists headed from one shopping destination to the next, were replaced by people drinking slushies, watering plants hanging outside their doors, held in pots towards their porch, and growing in window boxes. The people here were simply going about their daily lives.

Down Leith Walk would lead towards St. James Shopping Centre. A mall. Alright, I know, why travel to see a mall. But, still, if I walked in one side I could walk out the other and still find myself on track. And, you know, perhaps it might offer me a cultural experience, and isn't that what it's all about? Aside from the aptly, if not wholly subtle, video game store named Game there were also shops of great value such as The Pound Store.

The Pound Store is by far the greatest dollar store I'd ever seen. Yes, I know, due to the exchange rate it's more like a Dollar Ninety store, but inside were haircare products of all the major brand names, packs of batteries made by companies you'd recognize, home products, grocery goods, and sodas. Sodas: four four a pound! Now this was a cultural experience. I grabbed an Irn-Bru (Scotland's regional soda), some sort of explosive orange soda, Juiceful (canned apple juice), and a red-bull type drink. As I threw them all back, one after the next, I was welcomed by a host of flavour sensations I would most likely never experience again. And for only one pound, what could possibly go wrong?

Up St. Andrew's Place, I headed to Abercromby place. I kept assuming I was headed in the wrong way, never mind that I was following the map to the letter. This trouble, it would seem, was caused by Edinburgh's infuriating need to change every road's name after each two hundred meters. As it turned out, I was on the road I thought I was. It would just take three more name changes before it matched that which was printed on my map. This is a problem I have noticed with a lot of the city. Though there is a simplistic grid-like system to the city, the street names seem to change with every intersection, leaving it still somewhat difficult to navigate, if headed out with names alone.

My ultimate destination was Moray Place, a small ringed road, connected to two other such streets. These were quaint little neighbourhoods, each surrounding a private garden to which only the residents of the street had a key to. The green surrounded by cobblestone, nd surrounding city blocked off by the tall ring of houses created a feeling of escape from the rest of the world. For a moment it seemed like everything else could fade away, and that there was only this location which had remained the same for hundreds of years. The short walk down to Deans Bridge, offering views of spires poking out of small forests, pressing back against the smaller buildings nestled within, added to this mystique.


It was also around this time that I realized what could possibly be wrong with drinking four cans of soda in a row. A washroom was needed, yet none was to be found. Even the McDonald's kept their washrooms locked with archaic crypt keys. What was I to do? Where was I to go? I checked my map. At the corner of Princes Street and Lothian there was a public washroom. A beacon of hope set amongst public park. Within a simple silver trough offered relief, and a chance to continue on, finishing the last few paths of New Town.

I shuffled along Rose street, a tourist path which bisects four square streets set up around it. Here I saw bar after bar offering “authentic Scottish cuisine,” which to me indicates that there's probably very little authenticity behind the kitchen at all. Perhaps I'm wrong, but most pizza places don't advertise “authentic pizza,” they just serve it. So too, should I suspect, any other such restaurant.

As I neared my home for this journey, I found myself finally feeling as if I were in Edinburgh. For a long time I had thought that this was a city best taken in before London, as so much seems the same. However, it was while climbing the stairs in Fleshmonger Close that I took a moment to look around at the bleak alley leading between both streets and elevation that I finally felt “I am here.” This is an important moment on many of my trips. It is a moment when I cease to feel as if I've just wandered off a subway stop in a part of town I'd never before visited, and instead feel as if I am surrounded by something very different. Like stepping through a looking glass, and realizing it for what it is, this moment is when everything that follows changes.

The streets are not simply quirky cobblestone built for the benefit of tourists. The locals who try to avoid the visitors, simply wanting to live their lives do not do so only because we are here. The shops do not sell for my benefit alone. It is at that moment, that shifting of paradigms, that the city comes alive.