Well, happy Fourth to everybody. There is no celebration here in the UK, for obvious reasons, though these Scotts are tough enough that even on this blustery, rainy winter's... oops. I mean summer's day, I expect to see them in their woolen tartan bikinis down on the shores of the bay. Think about it for a moment:
Scots in plaid, woolen bikinis, chugging whisky and frolicking on the Firth of Forth for the Fourth. Boggles the mind.
Today so far, by breakfast time, we have had clouds and wind, sunny blue skies, pouring rain and now clouds. We walk off in the rain with a bag of laundry to drop off three blocks uptown. It pours on me, pre-soaking the laundry, but then the rain stops, the sun comes out and it is warm the rest of the day.
We head to the castle, since it was closed yesterday. There is an hour long line just to buy tickets, but no worries; I whip out my English Heritage Card, we totally skip the line and are in. OK then, this card has almost paid for itself.
The castle is interesting, and we got to see the crown jewels. I had no idea what "crown jewels" are. A bunch of diamond earrings? Ruby and sapphire pins and buttons? Royal testicles? All of the above? Turns out they are, in no particular order, an original crown in gold and purple velvet, from James V in 1540, a shiny sword with a handle that would make it impossible to actually fight with, a scepter with a cool crystal in the top, both given to James IV around 1500, and The Stone Of Destiny. Turns out these are supposed to be passed down, king to king. They were going to be stolen, so some brave peasants hid them, they were lost for 110 years, then found and voila! The magic is back!
We walked through the war memorial where we learned that as long as you are fighting for the winning side you are righteous, thus guaranteed a ticket to heaven (sound familiar?). The castle is impressively perched upon a rock, cliffs on all sides, easy to defend. At the end of the castle, there was a whisky tasting (what else? Perhaps a tartan fashion show?). They had honey whisky and cream whisky, like Baileys Irish Cream, but Scotch instead. Yuck! Way to ruin a good whisky, I am thinking. So I was talking to the guy, and I said no thanks, I like straight scotch. Good man, he says, and as we talk he pulls his own private bottle out from behind the stand and pours me a shot. Oh yea.
We are trying to leave, but get stuck in the castle by unfortunate timing: it is the changing of the guard. I am really bummed, visions of the Standing of the Guard in London flash before my eyes. But no, three guys march out, one guy yells for a minute while the other two change with the two old guards, and they turn and march off. One minute, start to finish. Boy, that old Queen Mum and the English could learn a thing or two here. Then, as we are walking out, one of the stone faced guards bursts out laughing! Some cute blonde asked if she could kiss him, he said, "We aren't allowed to do that." I like these Scotts, secure enough in their inner warrior abilities to stand around in a kilt and laugh. I bet he'd shoot me dead in an instant. Cool guy.
Walking around:
They have a store here called Poundorama, where everything is on sale for £1. It is their version of the Dollar Store, or the continental €URO store.
The downtown market, with all the usual things plus a hamburger stand selling kangaroo burgers. Because nothing says Scotland like a kangaroo burger.
In front of the Single Malt Whisky store, a wooden indian. Because nothing screams out Scotland like a wooden indian.
True fact: the Queen is in town right now, a source of irritation to our B&B hostess because of the disruption, but delight to the girls at the table next to us at breakfast. "We were just out of the park, and the police pulled up, stopped traffic and said to get your cameras out, the Queen Mum is coming! She was in a turn-around so had no choice but to do this..." and here she gave a little sort of wave and they all giggled. So, we are walking Rose Street over to Princes Street, when a bunch of cops come flying by. So I say to Gail, "Maybe it's Mum!" and she perks up, but no... looks like a drug bust or vagrant sweep.
About 14:00 we took a break and got a glass of wine and split a small pizza. We sat and read for an hour before heading back out.
So the day passed, wandering around, looking at people and things. Gail had a great eggplant parmesan for dinner, my meal was just so-so. At any rate, Edinburgh has been a pretty nice city.
The Barbarians are much less scary than I thought they would be. But we did not celebrate the Fourth of July just in case they are still mad about that whole independence thing.