Western European Adventures: Edinburgh

Annnnnd, we're back!

I'm back in Trabzon after two amazing weeks spent gallavanting around the United Kingdom, Ireland, and France with friends both old and new. Truly, what an incredible experience. I am so blessed to have had this opportunity. The people I saw, the places where I walked, the food I ate...it was beyond what I ever could have imagined.

As with Antalya, I am hoping to present the blog form of this trip in four separate parts, one for each of the places I went. Today's adventure is recounted from my time in Edinburgh, the first stop on my tour and the current home of one of my dearest, oldest friends who is attending Veterinary school at the University there: Logan Corley.

On the morning of January 15th I rose early--4:30 early--and hurriedly dressed myself, had a cup of tea, and slapped myself awake. There might also have been a spoonful of peanut butter in there, too. Great source of protein. Anyway, I grabbed my new, soft-sided, purple (and I mean PURPLE) carry-on that would hopefully pass all EasyJet, RyanAir, and Pegasus hand luggage standards. Around said case I secured one of my bright green luggage straps, which made my bag the easiest to spot within miles. This would come in handy if I were ever to be forced to check it, I reasoned. Plus it looked awesome.

Decked out for the chills outdoors in my awesome winter coat that was brought to me by my mother when she visited, I rolled my little suitcase quickly to the Trabzon airport, which, as you probably know from reading earlier blog entries, is about a fifteen minute walk away, as the long-legged Kat strides.

As with all Turkish airports, I went through security upon entering the building. I was surprised, however, to see Gökhan, one of my students, standing on the other side, who greeted me with, "Teacher, you're late!" Gökhan has decided to adopt me as his older sister over the past few months, and had apparently woken up just so he could say goodbye to me at the airport. He demanded to carry my bag and to stand with me in the check-in line, where his Turkish (and the throng of people practically pushing their way to the desk) somehow managed to get my bag, technically weighing too much for a carry-on, tagged for the cabin. With my--albeit rule-breaking--baggage in hand, I was then able to proceed to the next security checkpoint, where I waved goodbye to Gökhan and his roommate...who he had apparently dragged to the airport with him. Poor guy.

On the plane, the man sitting next to me asked--in very good English--where I was from. We struck up a conversation that ended up lasting the whole flight...which I think he particularly enjoyed, but that I, bleary-eyed and just looking for a nap, or at least some quiet, perpetuated only in an effort to be polite. He was an interesting guy, though: a Turk from Trabzon who lives in Brussels and works as a journalist. He offered to show me how to get to the international terminal in Istanbul's Sabiha Gökçen (Asian side) airport, an offer which I did accept, though, had I known what I was getting into, I might have just forged ahead on my own.

The rest of the story boils down to this: journalist man bought me breakfast, then picked my brain about politics, then bought me a Swarovski crystal flower from a duty free shop, thinking he was being sneaky (for me, realizing his intentions, it was like watching a car crash in slow motion, realizing there's nothing you can do to stop it), which he presented to me as we split to find our separate gates. Here's the thing...I am trying my darndest to be a polite, warm, and informed representative of the United States. But this is the second time something like this has happened to me (where I eventually, not initially, perceived intentions beyond...well, you know) in Turkey, and it happened to me again in Paris (more on that later). I've always managed to put on my (still polite!) steel face and wriggle out of what develop into awkward situations, but it raises a certain question: how can a woman in an ambassadorial position (whether officially diplomatic or through an exchange program, etc.) be a good representative of her home country (which, one would assume, requires a certain level of decorum) without sending signals that can be easily misperceived? Obviously, I wasn't aware that I was sending any kind of signal, but that's part of understanding cultural context, I suppose. Additionally, perhaps I just happened to interact with men who saw signals where there were none because they wanted to see them. Maybe "signals," whether real or imagined, played no part, rather only preconceived notions that persistence will deliver a desirable result in the end. In any event, I'm extremely interested to hear thoughts on this subject, because it's a difficult one, so consider leaving a comment!

Anyway, let's move beyond that little "bump in the road." It's not the point of the story. The point is that I eventually made it to Munich, where I somehow missed the transit passengers line and ended up officially entering Germany through passport control...and then walking right back out of it through another checkpoint. Whoops! But I made it onto my EasyJet Edinburgh flight with no problem, and I finally landed in Scotland the Brave!

Took the Airlink bus from the airport into the city centre, where I met up with Logan and we embraced like old friends. (Haha...get it? We are old friends? Ah, never mind...) She then asked me the question that really mattered, since I was back in the "West:" "Do you want Mexican or Italian?"

Oh, great gullamalooga (where is this expression from? I have been using it since I landed in Edinburgh for NO APPARENT REASON. It's definitely par for the course, though, in terms of the idiosyncrasies of my unique personal dialect) which was I to pick! I decided Mexican would have to be our first stop, since of all foods that I miss the most (oh yes, there's the food theme, again!) from home, Mexican tops the list. Especially my dad's Mexican...Dad, if you're reading this...nobody does Tex-Mex like you. Just putting that out there.

Over dinner I struggled to stay on one topic--namely, how my flights had been--because every other sentence out of my mouth became, "Well, in Turkey..." Through retellings of anecdotes and the dispersion of random facts, I was incredibly surprised to realize just how much I have learned about Turkey, and how I have adapted to life in Turkey (I am being "Turkified"--shout out to Cori Curtis, my brother from another mother!). Back to as-close-to-US-culture-as-you-can-get-without-crossing-the-Atlantic, and I was a little in awe. I had a beer from Mexico (WHAT?! I HAD FORGOTTEN BEERS BESIDES EFES EVEN EXISTED!) and some delicious enchiladas. But best of all, I had the company of someone who has been there for me through thick and thin and will always be like a sister to me, Miss Logan Corley. I love you, Logan!! I know, I know...I'm getting soft in my old age...

After dinner, we walked to the part of town where Logan lives, south of the Royal Mile (more on that in just a second), and we hung out in her apartment (excuse me, flat) for a little while before I checked into the bed and breakfast down the street where I would be staying. Sakura House, this B&B, is absolutely precious, and the woman who runs it is the sweetest. If you're headed to Edinburgh and looking for a reasonable place to stay, I recommend it! Of course, Logan and her mom recommended it to me...so it comes HIGHLY RECOMMENDED. This was my room:

The view out my little window

In-room breakfast laid out

That door is to the little, en-suite bathroom

The two beds; I slept on the left, near the heater

So, the next day I woke up to a delightful continental breakfast that was brought to my room, then got ready for a day out of exploring. This was my first experience ever traveling all by my honest lonesome, so I was a little nervous and uncertain, but I just made my way to the Royal Mile to follow the advice of Rick Steves, whose books--four of them--were ready at my fingertips on my Kindle. I packed a cold lunch with some items from breakfast and the leftovers of my enchilada feast, then headed out.

The Royal Mile is not actually a mile...it's like 200 yards longer than a mile, or something, but it's the long stretch of four connected streets (down a hill if you're in Edinburgh Castle...up a hill if you're in the Palace of Holyrood House) that runs between the old royal residence (Edinburgh Castle) and the new (Holyrood House). It's full of great shops and restaurants, and is, as Rick Steves puts it, "one of Europe's most interesting historic walks." It's the big thing to see in Edinburgh, so what a better place to start?

I was headed up the hill, toward the castle, when I spotted this sign...

Excuse me...free tour? I could go for that!

Thus, I inserted myself into the conglomerate of people hanging around the sign. I was asked by one of the apparent tour guides how I had found out about the tour...and answered that I had simply seen the sign.

Best. Tour. Ever.

Here's my guide (the guy who asked me how I'd found the tour, actually), Steve...being Steve. 

Steve is an Australian who moved to Edinburgh after falling in love with the city. Gotta say, I don't blame him. Steve is also one of the funniest people I have ever met, as well as one of the nerdiest. If I ever move to Edinburgh, I'm making him my best friend. Everything he said over the course of our 3-3.5 hour tour (on foot! It was actually AMAZING!) was informative, dramatic, and hilarious. It would be impossible to recount all that he told us in that magical time, but here's some of what we saw:

Edinburgh castle from below

Yes, that's Adam Smith

Old Parliament building, now courts

Heart of Midlothian...it's not romantic. You spit on it.

Unfortunately, my camera ran out of battery after a while (booooo terrible Turkish discount batteries!), so I don't have pictures of the Elephant Room (the cafe where J.K. Rowling wrote the first two Harry Potter books) or Greyfriars Cemetery (which contains graves that inspired many Harry Potter character names). But what I loved about this tour was that it took me places in the city that I never would have explored on my own. All in all, it really was a better tour than I could have ever hoped for. Thanks, Steve and SANDEMANs New Europe Tours!

After we all parted, I took a couple of hours to wander around the National Museum of Scotland, which has incredible exhibits on Scottish history from prehistoric through modern times, and then I headed home for a little tea in my room!

That night Logan and I met up for dinner, once again, heading to now dig into Italian. Over lasagna and a nice bottle of wine, we wiled away the hours discussing everything from popular television to my young adult novel in progress. Parting once more, I prepared for another Edinburgh day.

Tuesday morning I grabbed a sandwich from Tesco, a supermarket, as well as some chips and a bottle of water for a meal deal and packed them in my little bag to eat during my adventures to Edinburgh Castle, down the Royal Mile, and to Holyrood House.

At Edinburgh Castle, I paid my admission and then wandered to the place by the entrance from whence free, half an hour tours would depart. My guide had a wonderful Scottish accent and a jovial, passionate manner that showed his love for the castle. He showed us around outside, and then I entered into the residential part of the castle where the crown jewels of Scotland, as well as the Stone of Destiny (ask Steve for the awesome story about how this traditional coronation stone of Scotland was nicked from Westminster Abbey by some college kids one time) rest behind glass. I looked around at the chapel (the oldest building in the castle), the great hall, the National War Memorial, the War Museum, and a gift shop or two, then made it out in time to watch the one o' clock gun.

Looking from the entrance

Front gate

Inside the gates

My tour guide

Telling ya where things are

Chapel on the left

Inside is the War Memorial

Inside are the royal apartments and crown jewels

The one o' clock gun is a cannon (today it's a modern one, and always a blank) traditionally fired from the castle at exactly seven seconds to one in the afternoon. The sound of the cannon reaches the port at exactly one, so ship's captains could traditionally set their watches at that time. Cool, huh?

Look at that puppy! (No, not an actual puppy...)

The castle is situated on top of one of the hills in Edinburgh created by volcanic activity--in fact, I'm pretty sure it's on top of an actual dormant volcano--so I enjoyed the view of Edinburgh while I ate my picnic lunch with freezing hands. Then I happily put my gloves back on, and made my way out of the castle and down the Royal Mile to the Palace of Holyrood House.

The Mexican place where Logan and I ate my first night

There are apparently 3 statues of bagpiping angels in the world...

Looking down the Mile

Actors plugging one of Edinburgh's many ghost tours

St. Giles Cathedral

Named thusly because the city wall used to end here

Holyrood House is across from the new Scottish parliament building (crazy architecture) and adjacent to the large park that contains Arthur's Seat, another dormant volcano that rises up to dwarf Edinburgh from its summit. Holyrood House is the official royal residence in Scotland, and the Queen apparently does come to reside there at least once a year. I would, too...check it out:

My admission to Holyrood House included a free audio tour (which was extremely informative, especially about Mary Queen of Scots) but prohibited photography, so I apologize for no inside peeks. You'll just have to get to Edinburgh to see for yourself! After the interior tour, though, you're directed to the remains of a gothic abbey adjacent (seriously, right outside) to the palace...which absolutely blew my mind. Look at this place. How magical is it?

I know...they're all basically the same picture...but AWESOME!

Post-abbey and palace, it was back up the Royal Mile and back to Sakura House for tea time and lurking on the gradcafe message boards to talk grad school admissions with other poli sci hopefuls before meeting Logan for sushi. What remained for my last day in Edinburgh were a few options, especially the National Gallery and the Rosslyn Chapel (famous for its role in the final scenes of The Da Vinci Code) a little bit outside of Edinburgh.

I constructed the plan for my final day around getting to Rosslyn to see the chapel first, then coming back into Edinburgh to catch the National Gallery before closing time. Well, things got a little shaken up when I caught the right bus...the wrong way. So instead of heading out of town to Rosslyn, I headed out of town to the coast. By the time I realized my mistake, laughed at myself, and whipped out my Kindle for some sweet Sherlock Holmes reading time, I decided that I was just going to enjoy the ride out to the end of the line and would just stay on the bus until it got to Rosslyn. No, I'd never make it to the National Gallery, but as Rick Steves always says, "Assume that you'll return." 

Eventually I did make it to the village of Rosslyn, whereupon I followed the signs (did a lot of that on this trip since I usually had no concept of where I was headed) to the Chapel. Again, no pictures inside, and the outside is undergoing some restorations, but here are a few exterior pics, and you can see some of the interior on their website, http://www.rosslynchapel.org.uk/ . 

My wonderful tour guide inside made it clear that the Chapel is not nearly as exciting in Dan Brown terms as people want to think, but the Da Vinci Code's popularity HAS done wonders for the number of visitors. Truly, the inside of the chapel is breathtaking, covered in intricate stone carvings. The Apprentice Pillar, in particular, is just crazy. Listening to the guide helped me to gain a sense of the overall symbolism behind so much of what's in the chapel, something I feel like I wouldn't have managed on my own with just a brochure or a visitor's guide. So, if you make your way to the chapel, I suggest waiting for the hourly tour. 

Rosslyn is situated in the beautiful Scottish countryside, a few pictures of which I took while walking the mile to a bus stop on the line I wanted to take to get dropped off close to Sakura House:

The village of Rosslyn

I made it to the bus stop with a few minutes to spare, then hopped on the bus, headed to the second level (that's right, double-decker buses in the UK!)...and there was Logan! She and the rest of her vet school cohort were taking the same bus back into the city. So we were able to travel back together, I got to meet some of her classmates, and then we parted near her flat so that she could go to football practice (yes, soccer), agreeing to meet up for dinner and drinks at a pub, where we would watch at least part of the Real Madrid v. Barcelona match.

The first pub we tried was an Irish one (I know, the irony, since I was about to fly out to Dublin!), but they'd just closed up their kitchen, naturally. We decided to enjoy a pint anyway then headed for another on the way home that I knew had a sign for a kitchen open late! I mean, you'd think more people would demand snacks while watching sporting events in the evenings, but apparently the place where we ended up was the exception, not the rule, in this regard. Huh.

With burgers and the first half of the game, we finished off my epic adventures in Edinburgh. Apparently Logan got a new haunt out of it, and I was able to continue my pursuit of all things cheddar cheese. Parting at the door of Sakura House later was certainly bittersweet, since the time I was able to spend with my friend, getting to know this place where she'll spend the next few years of her life, was so incredibly special, and I had such a wonderful time exploring the beautiful city of Edinburgh. Logan, I'll be back to see you soon, so you count on that! Until then, it's great to be able to picture where you are. And we'll always have Asheville!

Well, folks, that concludes the tales of my Edinburgh shenanigans. It was really a ridiculously beautiful place, and I would recommend it to anyone. Even in winter! Maybe even especially in winter, since there weren't exactly huge lines. Plus, it felt super authentically Scottish.

Tune in next time for Part 2 of 4, featuring adventures in Dublin and Bray, Ireland with Helen Bradshaw!