Is it terrible that all of my Scot- and Scotland-related quotes come from Mike Myers? Yes, yes, I know that it is, but that won't stop me from quoting him. EVER.
Oh, Scotland. Land of whisky, land of kilts, land of haggis, and (probable) land of my people.* And also, land of the accent I feel I could most likely do, given enough time. Cripes, how I love that accent. As it turns out, they have fantastic shopping, too--normal-people sizes! Pretty and interesting patterns and colors! Prices that don't make you choke on your gum! (Zürich could learn a thing or two.) Back in the middle of August, Mike and I and Nanda and René packed up and headed to Edinburgh for the Fringe Festival, as well as for (everyone else, anyway) some smoky whisky tasting. Me, I just wanted to see the castle and eat some salmon. Thankfully, on this trip, everyone was a winner.
(And here's where I admit that I was entirely dubious about going to see a bunch of stand-up comics I'd never heard of: I've watched enough Last Comic Standing to know that stand-up is extremely and wildly hit-or-miss--ok, mostly miss--and frankly, I didn't want to lose hours of my life sitting in terrible shows. Thankfully, no one we saw was terrible. In fact, they were all rather great, in their own completely unique ways! Thankfully, thankfully, thankfully. But back to the city.)
Nanda found us a terrific little apartment to stay in, right on Rose Street, in the heart of the shopping district. Mike and I arrived on Saturday afternoon a few hours before Nanda and René, so we killed a little time by wandering around and having a snack.**
Look at Rose Street! So cute and festive! So full of these fantastic stone buildings!
This is how I know, deep down, that the Scots are my people: they serve french fries with everything. Macaroni and cheese and chips? Yes, please. (This adorable little takeout [called 'Eatings,' heh, heh] also had decent chili con carne, which was served on top of--naturally--french fries. And Mike had an outrageously good burger for under 3 Euros.)
And also, crazy meat-flavored potato chips! These things were everywhere, and so right up my weird-junk-food-fixation alley. (See also: ham-flavored chips in Spain, burger-flavored at Sechseläuten, and cervelat-flavored last summer--a special edition for the chip company's anniversary. Yeah.)
After our snack, we stumbled upon this little view: behold! Old town, up on the hill!
The giant creepy black spire on the left is the Scott Monument (as in, Sir Walter), from 1844, and the foofy, fantastic building behind it is a gigantic department store (Jenners).
The rooftops of old town, from the Scott Monument park. Look at the chimneys! The conical towers! It's almost too much.
Mr. George Orange performing on the Mound. He was juggling fire torches while walking a bike rim back and forth across the rope. It was actually pretty darn impressive, and his patter was hilarious.
Maybe my favorite building of the trip, right across the street from our first comedy venue. Amazing.
Once Nanda and René arrived, it was across the bridge over the train tracks, across the Meadows, and into old town to catch our first comedy show (Graham Clark, a super laid-back guy with a crazy beard who told Mike he looked like a giant trying to hide amongst the rest of us, and then made fun of himself for 40 minutes or so...good stuff). But anyway, here's some of what we saw on the way to the show, and then afterwards.
Here's the view from the Mound, looking east at the edge of old town (on the right) and the Balmoral Hotel (on the left), with the Scott Monument at the far left.
First close-up view of old town! I almost can't stand how phenomenal Edinburgh's architecture is.
Piper! Piper! An actual piper in kilt and full regalia, piping his heart out. We saw plenty of these guys busking around the city, and I did my best to give them all money. Good, good stuff.
Fireworks over High Street.
Nighttime castle, complete with giant torch fires around the edge and almost-full moon.
On Sunday: headed back into old town a different way. Could not stop photographing the buildings.
More old town. (FYI, the weather really was just like these photos: super cloudy and drizzly, and then the wind would blow it away and it'd be sunny and perfect, back and forth the entire time we were there. It was a bit on the breezy side, but I really liked that the gray didn't just settle in.)
And now, what you've all been waiting for: daytime castle, up on its hilltop...kinda hard to look at anything else when this thing's in view.
A nice little artists' fair, which they set up in part of the graveyard of St. John's Church.
As with most countries, don't ever believe people when they make a blanket statement proclaiming that "The food [wherever] is terrible." The British Isles have had that reputation seemingly forever, but it's not true, kids. Go and eat for yourself. Saturday night we had a late, but tremendous, dinner at this place on Rose Street called Wildfire, which had absolutely divine seafood (my favorites were the cheese-drenched seafood pie that I should not have eaten all of, but couldn't stop inhaling; and the terrific seafood chowder that Mike had as his starter).
On Sunday, there occurred the first round of tasting at the Scotch Malt Whisky Society, wherein I drank an espresso and listened to everyone wax rhapsodic about smoky whisky, and then it was over to Victoria Street for a fantastic lunch of roast hog at Oink. Holy smokes, was that some good pig...I had mine with sage and onion dressing, and chili cheese sauce.
Victoria Street...so pretty.
The industrious employees of Oink, pulling pork in the shop window. I would have happily eaten here every single day we were in town.
After lunch, we all caught Simon Munnery's show "Fylm," which was this quasi-Monty-Python-ish set in which the (rather British) comic--who was in the venue with us--performed all sorts of funny little non-sequiturs and elaborate jokes involving throw-away punchlines on camera, with the help of a few pens and cardstock cut-out props. ("I want you to remember my show as deeply profane, seemingly inane, and extremely pink.") I laughed until I cried and got a stomachache and cried some more...it was tremendous. In the evening, while Nanda and René were taking in another comedy show, Mike was kind enough to indulge my history-tourism needs, and we took the goofy (but super interesting) guided tour of Mary King's Close, which was a 17th-century series of those narrow little alleys, lined with tenement houses, over which they built Royal Exchange and City Chambers in the 1750s. That is to say that parts of the streets and houses still exist, but underground. Sadly, they wouldn't let us take photos down there, but there are some decent ones out there.
After the tour, Mike and I headed off to explore the Royal Mile and to find dinner, which ended up being at a funny little joint called Howie's. Not the fanciest food, but certainly solidly good, and they actually had vegetables on their menu (other than potatoes and mushy peas...)! My potato and smoked fish soup was super tasty, and I followed it with their summer bean salad with lime, chili, and coriander, and an order of the pearl barley risotto with snap peas, parmesan, and white truffle oil (which would have been absolutely terrific, sans truffle oil...just too overwhelming).
St. Giles Cathedral on the Royal Mile, a few bits of which date to around 1120, and the rest of which has been added over centuries.
St. Giles' gargoyles. You had to have known you'd see gargoyles here. (Although, surprise! We didn't actually go into any of the major churches, so you get an entire post without cathedral interiors. I had no idea it could be done.)
A close off of the Royal Mile (one of many).
Chimney pots!!
Love this door on St. Columba's-by-the-Castle.
Monday (ok, Sunday, Tuesday, and Wednesday as well...) began with decent coffee and the best scones I've ever tasted, and then it was back to the Scotch Malt Whisky Society for lunch, which turned out to be tremendous. Sadly, I forgot to write it all down, but I can tell you that my starter involved goat cheese and grapes (yum) and my main was salmon with a side of green beans (also yum). After lunch (and more espresso for me, while the others picked up some whisky), Mike and I headed up to take a tour of the castle, because who doesn't love a good castle? The earliest building on the site dates to around the early 12th century (!), although the majority of the buildings on the site were constructed much later (after pretty much everything was destroyed during the Lang Siege of 1571-73...naturally).
Approach to the castle. Which is actually through the stadium (you can see some of the seating on the left) they've set up for the Edinburgh tattoo. I'm a bit sad we didn't get to go, 'cause I imagine it as the some sort of intensely crazy drumming-and-piping extravaganza featuring innumerable kilts and pomponned hats, and they light up the giant torches for it, and it's followed by fireworks, but the lines for this thing genuinely stretched through most of old town. Yech.
Fezzik, raise the portcullis! (This gate was constructed in 1574.)
It's just what the sign says. Awwww.
Mons Meg, a 15th-century siege cannon which could fire projectiles up to two miles away.
The Great Hall, only the ceiling of which remains from the original 16th-century construction.
Detail from said ceiling. (Holy moly.)
Fantastically interesting exhibit on prisons of war, held in the vaults underneath the Great Hall, which actually were used as prisons in the 18th and 19th centuries.
French inmate's carving on one of the original prison doors, depicting the British Prime Minister (Lord North) on a hangman's scaffold.
Graffiti on the prison vaults from 1780!
Not entirely sure which buildings these are, exactly, but they're within the castle walls and I liked them. So there. (Interestingly enough, there are several 18th-century buildings on-site that are still used by the military, and are not open to the public.)
Oh yeah...and we got to see the Scottish crown jewels (last used in 1651...!) and the Stone of Destiny***, which was swiped by the British from the Scottish abbey at Scone (not kidding) and used in the coronation ceremonies of British monarchs at Westminster for almost 700 years. Sorry, though, no photos allowed, but a nice description here.
Heading back down the Royal Mile from the castle. Yeesh, this place is amazing.
Post-castle, we headed off to meet up with Nanda and René for "An Evening with David Sedaris," whose name was the only one familiar to me in the vast festival program, yahoo! I have to admit, most of the material he contributes to NPR, and even that in his books, has always struck me as fairly melancholy, with occasional moments of genuine, sparkling humor...so I was a bit dubious about seeing him in person. HOWEVER. In person, David Sedaris is much funnier and warmer and quick-witted (...and dirtier!) than I expected, and so his show, which consisted mainly of readings of his most recent anecdotes and short stories, was utterly delightful. I could have listened to the man for hours.
Miscellanea between venues: look at these chimneys. And dormers. Architectural bliss.
A view of the Half Moon Battery (1588) of the castle, from the south-ish side.
Grassmarket Square. So ridiculously cute.
Victoria Street, from the bottom. Still pretty.
Next, though, we had to grab a quick bite (for me, it was cheese & beans on toast at the pie shop!!) before heading to our next stand-up show, with Felicity Ward. Frankly, she was a bit frantic for me, and her looping machine got somewhat out of hand, but on the whole, she was quite funny, and who doesn't want a square of free bubble wrap? (Apparently, it's her favorite form of therapy, which is why she handed it out to everyone after racing to the door at the end of her show...very sweet. No big surprise, mine was entirely popped by the time we were back on the street.) Favorite line of the show: "People who can sleep on planes: die in a fire." Heh.
Tuesday morning began with a traipse out to Leith for lunch at a highly-recommended seafood joint, and who am I to argue with seafood? On the way, we saw this bit of architectural insanity:
So. Nutty.
Look at the griffins. Honestly. Who does that?****
...and then we enjoyed a delicious, delicious, seafood-and-champagne-filled lunch. Because that's what one does at The Ship on the Shore. Couldn't really tell you what anyone else had (except that Mike had some permutation of parmesan-lemon-barley risotto, which was delicious), but my fish 'n chips was just about the best ever. (Yes, I felt a teensy bit ridiculous ordering such peasant-y food at a mildly highfalutin restaurant, but if you're going to order it and expect it to be really good, it might as well be just such a joint.) Anyway. Next, we saw some boats:
...'cause Leith is right on the coast.
And then Mike found this amazing thistle-y thing on the sidewalk and stuck it in his jacket pocket. It was neat.
Tuesday evening we saw the last of our shows, "The Essential Tom Stade," with this absolutely insane Canadian comic who I genuinely believed was drunk when he came on stage. (Which was a bit worrisome, because A) we'd finally gotten to a show early enough to get close-up seats; and B) I could only imagine that meant that we were in for a long, terrible show.) Thankfully, Mr. Stade was not nearly as drunk as he appeared (as in, he may not have been drunk at all), and he was completely manic and offensive, but in a hilarious way (i.e., not for the faint of heart). Just like Graham Clark, he picked Mike out of the audience to talk to during his set, and after the show came running up and gave him a giant handshake and hug. Seemed like a genuinely nice, laid-back guy who was really appreciative of everyone that had come to see his show, and that I really respected. (Favorite line, when discussing alcoholism in his family, and how his father had quit drinking and promptly died at a young age: "I drink to live!" Heh.)
And with that, kids, here's where my Scottish sojourn draws to a close: along with Wednesday morning came the last of the best scones ever, and then it was off to the airport for me and Nanda, and off to the island of Islay for Mike and René for a boys' weekend in the world capitol of smoky whisky (ugh). For further details, you'll just have to ask them.
To sum up: Fringe Festival - lots of fun. Edinburgh - brilliant, beautiful, would go back anytime. Scotland - loved it, just as I remembered from my first short, hectic trip there back in 2000. Really friendly people, gorgeous accent, good food, and FRENCH FRIES EVERYWHERE.
What we're watching: I'll try to stick to the stuff that's worthwhile, although Dexter...ugh, what a terrible way to end a show. After we've stuck with you for eight seasons, why?? Why would you punish us like this? This final season started really strongly, but the last three or four episodes felt rushed, and then that terrible finale, of which I disapprove entirely. Laaaaaaaame. Breaking Bad: holy smokes, now that's how you end a show!! Tied up every important loose end, included some really nice twists and turns, and was generally just awesome. (Dexter, you should have been taking notes, although I suppose it's irrelevant, now that you're gone.) 42, the movie about Jackie Robinson, which was really good, but felt sanitized. There was a scene or two which made me want to throw bats at his disgusting, racist antagonists, but on the whole, you just know that things were much uglier, scarier, angrier, and generally worse for him than they showed in the movie. (And also, Harrison Ford just completely stole the show for me.) Mud, with a serious Matthew McConaughey, which was just a surprisingly good little movie about love and heartbreak and assassins and boats. Iron Man 3 and Star Trek Into Darkness, finally! Woooo, I love me some genuinely good summer blockbusters. Life of Pi, which totally deserved the hype, but was also pretty brutal in places. 5 Broken Cameras, a first-person documentary about the Israel/Palestine conflict, but from the Palestinian side. Really poignant, and makes you want to scream at how pointless, and seemingly unsolvable, the whole thing is.
What I'm reading: still Condi, always Condi... Her second book (No Higher Honor, about her years as Secretary of State in the GWB White House) is interminable. Usually interesting, yes, but not interesting enough, in my opinion, to justify its interminability. If this book ever ends, dear readers, you'll be the first to know about it.
What we're cooking: this little pasta gem, which I absolutely loved, and which the two of us ate most of, in one sitting. Naturally, I had to add more chopped tomatoes, as my giant skillet looked so sad and empty with just that third of a cup. And also, more pine nuts, 'cause mmmmmm, pine nuts. This chili, because the stupid weather is getting all cold and gray, and chili makes that more tolerable, at least temporarily. (I'd recommend dialing down the brown sugar, though, 'cause I used about a tablespoon and it was still overly sweet. And I cut back the meat and added more beans, 'cause that's what I'm doing these days.) Ooh, and speaking of perfect cold-weather foods, I tried my hand at shepherd's pie, and it came out tremendously tasty, although it took about a year to put together. (Even Mike liked it, despite the fact that I swapped out a third of the beef for cooked lentils, because see above).
Next up: heaps of miscellaneous adventures, including museums and a handful of festivals. And the cows coming home. No joke.
*Ooh, guess where the McCullough clan most likely came from? A fantastic place called Wigtownshire. How can one not be proud of that?
**Here, I would have inserted a quick declaration, but it didn't flow with everything else. Nevertheless, declaration: I'm going to stop giving "Warning: tons of photos ahead!" disclaimers, 'cause you know that already. By this point in time, it's a given. So from now on, you can just assume there will be tons of photos. (And, usually, far too much rambling text.)
***"Stone of Destiny" sounds to me like it should be accompanied by some sort of echo or reverb, and/or some trumpets sounding, like maybe that little riff from The Princess Bride, whenever they announce the Princess Battahcup. (It also reminds me of that episode of Arrested Development..."You're losing blood, aren't you." "Handle first. Handle first!") (Just me?)
****Some nutter from 1864, that's who.
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