I woke up at 6:30 in order to get up to Edinburgh with enough time to make the trip worthwile. This let me catch the 8:00 train, which got me there at 11:15. I walked out of the station and immediately saw something that let me know I was going to like this city:
The Scot MemorialEdinburgh is incredible that way--the architecture is dark and gothic and very solid looking. A guidebook I read says that the buildings look straight out of Lord of the Rings, and I have to agree. Although I'm sure they weren't built with this in mind, they've turned black with time, which makes them that much more impressive.
The first order of business was to go to the Russian Consulate to talk to someone in person about the visa business. On the way, however, I dipped into the garden below the castle. All of Edinburgh centers around the almost impossibly dramatic cliff that the castle sits on, keeping it in sight almost always.
Fountain and castle, with charming maintenance truck in background.I made it to the Russian Consulate, and got some clarification, which is to say none at all. I'll have to wait until Paris to know if I can get to Russia, and at that point I'll write a whole post about the stupid stupid Russian visa process. But, just in case this is the closest I get to Russia...
In Soviet Russia, visa applies for you!
I headed back to the castle and climbed up the winding paths on the backside of the cliff to get up to the entrance where I was promptly slapped in the face with an 11 pound entrance fee. In the end, though, it was more than worth it.
Edinburgh from the castle. Note the hill off to the right side.
"Moss Meg", a huge ancient cannon on display. Looks like it's ready to fire again to me.
After clambering around the main part of the castle, I got in position to watch the 1:00 cannon salute. They keep an artillery piece on the battlements that they fire off at 1:00 every day. I took a video of it, which I'll post on YouTube if I get a chance. The video may not be all that interesting except for the part where I jerk around wildly when the gun actually goes off--it was way louder than I expected.
(Update! Check it out here and be...kind of...amazed)
After that I went to the Scottish War Memorial, which was unexpectedly awe-inspiring. In a special area created after World War I, Scottish flags from every division of their military hang with inscriptions and dedications to every Scot killed in action since 1914. There are also the Rolls of Honor, books with every soldier's name in them, arranged around the hall.
Photography is forbidden, and silence is requested. I wish I could show you pictures of it, because it moved me to tears in several areas. War memorials are always powerful things, but the way this one was treated as an ongoing memorial (part of the reason for the sign above is that Scots may be added to the Rolls of Honor even now, so that recently grieving families might be there) kind of floored me. The engraving on the front archway reads "Lest We Forget".
We always forget.
I then went to see the crown jewels of Scotland, which were pretty amazing--they include an enormous sword, an ornamented claymore. Something I thought was really cool was that right before going in to see the actual objects, there was a display with metal scale-replicas to touch, with braille plaques beneath them. It was a thoughtful gesture that I wouldn't have expected, and it made me wonder what this trip would be like if I was blind.
Conscious of the fact that I had to get back to the station for a 5:00 departure, I headed quickly through the War Museum, where I saw this nauseating bit of propoganda history:
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
And just to prove that I really was there, my timer function again saved me from having to interact with humans.
I walked down the main street leading out of the castle, called the Royal Mile, and went to a cafe recommended by Angela, The Elephant House. Incidentally, it's apparently where J.K. Rowling started writing Harry Potter.
Just as I got into the cafe, it started to rain, so I got to sit by the window with a pint of beer and good food, reading Scottish poetry and short stories from a literary magazine while looking at this:
It's a tough life here.
After the rain stopped, I wandered down the street to find a good whisky bar. I'm extremely partial to single-malt scotch, so I went in to a sleeply little pub called Whiski, where they have 150 types of the good stuff. I chatted with the bartender about scotch for about a half an hour and had two different kinds, making sure it was stuff I couldn't get in the States.
No, really, I only had two glasses...
Finally, I walked back across town and up to the hill mentioned earlier. On the way, I met two Belgian girls, named Aurelie and something else that I can't remember how to spell. It was good to practice French again, and we had a good time talking up on the now blustery hill.
After the hill, I came down with the girls and said goodbye to go to the station. On the way, I caught the sunset, and the Scot Memorial made it all the better.
After the 3 hour train ride, I met up with Angela and her parents to go to the Abbey Inn, a small pub near their house in Baildon, where there is a folk night every Tuesday. So for two and a half hours we sat and listened to people play or sing whatever they wanted, from traditional Celtic songs to Maroon 5. I played a couple of songs as well, and it felt homey and wonderful in a way I've never experienced at a bar back home.
"The Wind", by Cat Stevens, with funny Frankensteins for effect.
Long day, but easily one of my best so far.
In Soviet Russia, visa applies for you!I headed back to the castle and climbed up the winding paths on the backside of the cliff to get up to the entrance where I was promptly slapped in the face with an 11 pound entrance fee. In the end, though, it was more than worth it.
Edinburgh from the castle. Note the hill off to the right side.
"Moss Meg", a huge ancient cannon on display. Looks like it's ready to fire again to me.
After clambering around the main part of the castle, I got in position to watch the 1:00 cannon salute. They keep an artillery piece on the battlements that they fire off at 1:00 every day. I took a video of it, which I'll post on YouTube if I get a chance. The video may not be all that interesting except for the part where I jerk around wildly when the gun actually goes off--it was way louder than I expected.
(Update! Check it out here and be...kind of...amazed)
After that I went to the Scottish War Memorial, which was unexpectedly awe-inspiring. In a special area created after World War I, Scottish flags from every division of their military hang with inscriptions and dedications to every Scot killed in action since 1914. There are also the Rolls of Honor, books with every soldier's name in them, arranged around the hall.
Photography is forbidden, and silence is requested. I wish I could show you pictures of it, because it moved me to tears in several areas. War memorials are always powerful things, but the way this one was treated as an ongoing memorial (part of the reason for the sign above is that Scots may be added to the Rolls of Honor even now, so that recently grieving families might be there) kind of floored me. The engraving on the front archway reads "Lest We Forget".
We always forget.
I then went to see the crown jewels of Scotland, which were pretty amazing--they include an enormous sword, an ornamented claymore. Something I thought was really cool was that right before going in to see the actual objects, there was a display with metal scale-replicas to touch, with braille plaques beneath them. It was a thoughtful gesture that I wouldn't have expected, and it made me wonder what this trip would be like if I was blind.
Conscious of the fact that I had to get back to the station for a 5:00 departure, I headed quickly through the War Museum, where I saw this nauseating bit of propoganda history:
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
I walked down the main street leading out of the castle, called the Royal Mile, and went to a cafe recommended by Angela, The Elephant House. Incidentally, it's apparently where J.K. Rowling started writing Harry Potter.
Just as I got into the cafe, it started to rain, so I got to sit by the window with a pint of beer and good food, reading Scottish poetry and short stories from a literary magazine while looking at this:
It's a tough life here.
After the rain stopped, I wandered down the street to find a good whisky bar. I'm extremely partial to single-malt scotch, so I went in to a sleeply little pub called Whiski, where they have 150 types of the good stuff. I chatted with the bartender about scotch for about a half an hour and had two different kinds, making sure it was stuff I couldn't get in the States.
No, really, I only had two glasses...Finally, I walked back across town and up to the hill mentioned earlier. On the way, I met two Belgian girls, named Aurelie and something else that I can't remember how to spell. It was good to practice French again, and we had a good time talking up on the now blustery hill.
After the hill, I came down with the girls and said goodbye to go to the station. On the way, I caught the sunset, and the Scot Memorial made it all the better.
After the 3 hour train ride, I met up with Angela and her parents to go to the Abbey Inn, a small pub near their house in Baildon, where there is a folk night every Tuesday. So for two and a half hours we sat and listened to people play or sing whatever they wanted, from traditional Celtic songs to Maroon 5. I played a couple of songs as well, and it felt homey and wonderful in a way I've never experienced at a bar back home.
"The Wind", by Cat Stevens, with funny Frankensteins for effect.Long day, but easily one of my best so far.
1 comment:
sweet pictures, and the guitar rocks. woo!!
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