I'm happy that it's raining today.
I've been thinking about cities, about old cities; how they can feel (in some areas, certain streets) more like formations than something man-made. Edinburgh: those massive brown blocks everything is made of-- buildings that look as though they sprung from bedrock to show off, make us feel small, and in awe. Buildings whose foundations appear unshakable and indestructible (but nothing is), and as ancient as the dormant volcano just outside the city. Massive structures whose density is palpable as you look upon them, and whose stone turns streaked with dark in the rain. Impenetrable but somehow warm, and makes you want to touch it, that stone. It's history that stuck around; it's evidence.
But I'm romanticizing.
Edinburgh has other reasons, too, to be in my thoughts today. One: I was informed that one of my photographs of said city has been shortlisted for inclusion in the Schmap Edinburgh Guide. Not sure how they found my photo, but it was a nice surprise. Two: Today is October 11th, and it has been two years since a rainy night in Edinburgh on which Anders and I met up with fellow Brooklynite, Ben. It was not only a really fun evening, but also the beginning of something totally unexpected, unlooked-for.
I read this line in Oil Notes, by Rick Bass, today: "Falling in love can be a cure sometimes, but it can only be a shot in the arm if you don't need it."
Showing posts with label edinburgh. Show all posts
Showing posts with label edinburgh. Show all posts
11 October 2007
30 October 2005
17 October : Edinburgh bonus day!
Monday. Oh, waking after another solid sleep to full breakfast; CNN on the telly in the corner of the room; travelers from the continent in the tables surrounding-- the breakfast room really is a pleasant and reassuring aspect of traveling- despite nothing but bad news from the screen (Yes: hurricane Wilma, Avian flu having reached Greece, the dreadful earthquake in Pakistan... the mind reels and the heart sinks-)
BUT! Today is "Return to Edinburgh" day-- I swear I'd have cried if Anders hadn't agreed! (But I knew he would- he missed that city as much as did I) So back on that train! Upon arrival to our fair city, we took advantage of what is known as "Left Luggage"; a spot where one can leave any piece of luggage for as long as one needs- £5 per 24 hours. Brilliant! Anders had thought of it night before, so we packed all we'd need for an overnight into our smaller, more manageable bags.
Up those Waverly Steps into full noon- welcome back. A deeply inhaled breath, eyes closed- sweetness, joy. Along Princes Street we have a bit of a chat with a friendly hippie-clad "nun" (read: Hare Krishna) who told us of the many outposts of the organization to which she belonged throughout the world, and was looking for donations. In return, a cd of music which she described as "Monk Punk." We bite- pool our pounds of pocket change. She also gives us a hippie Hare Krishna book (this proves useful upon return to London), and wishes us well on our travels.
Continued walk down Princes to Lothian (or, as Anders preferred to call it, Lothlorian) and back to our Guest House 'hood, where the leaves are changing colors and carpeting the lovely streets. There is a school, by the way, at the end of our street- a middle school I think- and I cannot tell you the name-- for whatever it was, the clever kids had taken away all the portions of lettering on the sign, save a few characters, which ended it up as "ALI. G" Hilarious.)
Hello to Adam, again, and drop off the delightfully diminished luggage- then heading back out. Today is for walking the Water of Leith. It is no river; more a stream. It runs through Edinburgh almost hidden, and out to the seaside town of Leith, where the harbour meets the firth. A lovely and agreeable nature walk along what was a mill-spotted and dammed waterway in the city's more industrial times. At parts it takes you back up to the surface of city streets (we couldn't resist having lunch at the Bailie once again, even as it was so shortly after we'd set out), and at times takes you through plots of gardens, wooded paths- just brilliant. Along the way are no public loos, so we made a habit of stopping off now and again along the three mile walk to have "half-pints, and pee" Funny.
Arriving at Leith we are hoping to have an actual up-close view of the firth, the harbour; but are foiled. The stretch along the water there is thoroughly clothed in industrial loading docks, buildings, etc, and the water is quite literally out of any possible view. We don't mind, though. We wander, and come upon a place called Cameo Bar, which our kiwi-transplant hostess had told us of back at the Bailie. A wee respite, time to write a bit, then back to walking. Anders had consulted one of the maps, and found us a quite different route upon which to return to the city. A long, wide boulevard and nearly a straight shot back, with interesting things along the way (I believe it was called Boughton Street?)
We arrive back to the center of Edinburgh as the sky is turning its dusky blue, the lights in the clock towers are glowing gorgeously, and anders finds us a cute Czech pub beneath Waterloo overpass, so we stop in- a 'full circle' moment, as this city has reminded us in many ways of Prague. We chat with the bartendress, who is planning a visit to Prague in the winter, and Anders gives her the name of our Holiday Home Pensione, where we stayed while we were there.
We traverse New Town on our way back and realize it is getting late, so have simple fare of some toasties in one of the places along Queens street (or one of those streets north of Princes). Then to Bennet's. We sit at the bar this time, and the place is crowded. Anders winds up talking to various folks, as I nip outside multiple times to phone Kev, (missing him thrice before connecting) as it's his birthday. So happy we came back, if only for a day.
BUT! Today is "Return to Edinburgh" day-- I swear I'd have cried if Anders hadn't agreed! (But I knew he would- he missed that city as much as did I) So back on that train! Upon arrival to our fair city, we took advantage of what is known as "Left Luggage"; a spot where one can leave any piece of luggage for as long as one needs- £5 per 24 hours. Brilliant! Anders had thought of it night before, so we packed all we'd need for an overnight into our smaller, more manageable bags.
Up those Waverly Steps into full noon- welcome back. A deeply inhaled breath, eyes closed- sweetness, joy. Along Princes Street we have a bit of a chat with a friendly hippie-clad "nun" (read: Hare Krishna) who told us of the many outposts of the organization to which she belonged throughout the world, and was looking for donations. In return, a cd of music which she described as "Monk Punk." We bite- pool our pounds of pocket change. She also gives us a hippie Hare Krishna book (this proves useful upon return to London), and wishes us well on our travels.
Continued walk down Princes to Lothian (or, as Anders preferred to call it, Lothlorian) and back to our Guest House 'hood, where the leaves are changing colors and carpeting the lovely streets. There is a school, by the way, at the end of our street- a middle school I think- and I cannot tell you the name-- for whatever it was, the clever kids had taken away all the portions of lettering on the sign, save a few characters, which ended it up as "ALI. G" Hilarious.)
Hello to Adam, again, and drop off the delightfully diminished luggage- then heading back out. Today is for walking the Water of Leith. It is no river; more a stream. It runs through Edinburgh almost hidden, and out to the seaside town of Leith, where the harbour meets the firth. A lovely and agreeable nature walk along what was a mill-spotted and dammed waterway in the city's more industrial times. At parts it takes you back up to the surface of city streets (we couldn't resist having lunch at the Bailie once again, even as it was so shortly after we'd set out), and at times takes you through plots of gardens, wooded paths- just brilliant. Along the way are no public loos, so we made a habit of stopping off now and again along the three mile walk to have "half-pints, and pee" Funny.
Arriving at Leith we are hoping to have an actual up-close view of the firth, the harbour; but are foiled. The stretch along the water there is thoroughly clothed in industrial loading docks, buildings, etc, and the water is quite literally out of any possible view. We don't mind, though. We wander, and come upon a place called Cameo Bar, which our kiwi-transplant hostess had told us of back at the Bailie. A wee respite, time to write a bit, then back to walking. Anders had consulted one of the maps, and found us a quite different route upon which to return to the city. A long, wide boulevard and nearly a straight shot back, with interesting things along the way (I believe it was called Boughton Street?)
We arrive back to the center of Edinburgh as the sky is turning its dusky blue, the lights in the clock towers are glowing gorgeously, and anders finds us a cute Czech pub beneath Waterloo overpass, so we stop in- a 'full circle' moment, as this city has reminded us in many ways of Prague. We chat with the bartendress, who is planning a visit to Prague in the winter, and Anders gives her the name of our Holiday Home Pensione, where we stayed while we were there.
We traverse New Town on our way back and realize it is getting late, so have simple fare of some toasties in one of the places along Queens street (or one of those streets north of Princes). Then to Bennet's. We sit at the bar this time, and the place is crowded. Anders winds up talking to various folks, as I nip outside multiple times to phone Kev, (missing him thrice before connecting) as it's his birthday. So happy we came back, if only for a day.
29 October 2005
14 October : Edinburgh day four
Friday: Climbing the Seat day!! We awake feeling a bit "fumie"-- too many whiskeys- and we have overslept! Missed our free brekkie in the room downstairs. We hasten to dress and prepare for the day; Anders recalls a diner of sorts along Southbridge which serves breakfast all day, so that is our first destination. Scrambled eggs, toast, much juice (Anders got the "full English," [Scottish in this case] as it is known, with bangers, bacon and beans as well). Ready!
We take the east end of Cowgate down towards the Horse Wynd and Holyrood, for a variation from the high street. As we begin up the path, we notice a fellow hippie-crawler ahead of us. He's eating granola; we laugh. He takes a divergent path finally, after we spot the remains of some old building and decide that will be our first "crawl". We eye the many pathways leading up, and decide upon one that looks the most friendly. About two-thirds of the way up, however, this seemingly non-threatening hippie crawl suddenly turns into a full-on "Gollum-crawl"! (This was what we had dubbed the impossibly steep pathways up to the Crags which we'd spotted the day before from the Wynd) Having been in the lead, I turn back to Anders and say "Umm, Anders? Our easy pathway has just gone full Gollum." We laugh like stoners or lunatics and begin our ascent, hand over hand; there's no looking anywhere, save to choose the next solid spot upon which to place one's hand or foot. Intense, and made the more difficult as we 'tards are still laughing like idiots the whole way up. Finally we reach the ruins; remainders of what was once St. Anthony's Chapel. We snap some photos, but are only mildly interested, as our climb has gotten both our heads away from sight-seeing mode and into full hippie-crawler mode. This challenge was a corner turned; a new and exciting perspective for we city-dwellers.
I won't describe the remainder of our way up to Arthur's Seat, nor back into the vale (down some very Gollum steps) and up to the top of the Crags; I will say only that spending the day in such an atmosphere and busy focused on choosing one's footing, the occasional pang of vertigo, the view all round from 800+ feet up-- it's such a high (no pun intended)-- one of the most amazing things I've ever done. I shall certainly try to incorporate days like that into future travels- so f*ing brilliant.
Another excerpt:
"I felt a sadness as we returned to pavement--
felt a loss at the ease of it"
Dinner at the Black Bull along the pub/hotel row (at which point I finally sorted the map with the territory in my head, as here, too, was Apex City Hotel bar, from first night when I left navigation to the boys) There was a group of friars in the pub, surrounded by interested parties, many of whom wished to have a photo with them. Hilarious. God, where did we head after that? Aha! Yes, it was Friday night, along that pub row, so we hung around for a bit- next stop was The Last Drop, where, hysterically, we ran into the friars again (we'd noticed their absence as we exited the Black Bull). Then a drink at Finn's (aka "Finn McCool's"), where I talked with our bartendress about New York a bit, followed by some exploring off the row and towards the home base; we landed briefly at a Pub known as Doctor's, which was chock-a-block full of university kids. We are "oldsters" in there (bah!), and the lights are very bright, so we don't tarry long, though it was interesting people-watching. We wind up, of course, having last call at Bennet's, where we see our Grace again, and have one of the local men snap a photo of the three of us.
Yet another night whereupon one falls immediately into deep and deserved sleep as the head hits the pillow.
We take the east end of Cowgate down towards the Horse Wynd and Holyrood, for a variation from the high street. As we begin up the path, we notice a fellow hippie-crawler ahead of us. He's eating granola; we laugh. He takes a divergent path finally, after we spot the remains of some old building and decide that will be our first "crawl". We eye the many pathways leading up, and decide upon one that looks the most friendly. About two-thirds of the way up, however, this seemingly non-threatening hippie crawl suddenly turns into a full-on "Gollum-crawl"! (This was what we had dubbed the impossibly steep pathways up to the Crags which we'd spotted the day before from the Wynd) Having been in the lead, I turn back to Anders and say "Umm, Anders? Our easy pathway has just gone full Gollum." We laugh like stoners or lunatics and begin our ascent, hand over hand; there's no looking anywhere, save to choose the next solid spot upon which to place one's hand or foot. Intense, and made the more difficult as we 'tards are still laughing like idiots the whole way up. Finally we reach the ruins; remainders of what was once St. Anthony's Chapel. We snap some photos, but are only mildly interested, as our climb has gotten both our heads away from sight-seeing mode and into full hippie-crawler mode. This challenge was a corner turned; a new and exciting perspective for we city-dwellers.
I won't describe the remainder of our way up to Arthur's Seat, nor back into the vale (down some very Gollum steps) and up to the top of the Crags; I will say only that spending the day in such an atmosphere and busy focused on choosing one's footing, the occasional pang of vertigo, the view all round from 800+ feet up-- it's such a high (no pun intended)-- one of the most amazing things I've ever done. I shall certainly try to incorporate days like that into future travels- so f*ing brilliant.
Another excerpt:
"I felt a sadness as we returned to pavement--
felt a loss at the ease of it"
Dinner at the Black Bull along the pub/hotel row (at which point I finally sorted the map with the territory in my head, as here, too, was Apex City Hotel bar, from first night when I left navigation to the boys) There was a group of friars in the pub, surrounded by interested parties, many of whom wished to have a photo with them. Hilarious. God, where did we head after that? Aha! Yes, it was Friday night, along that pub row, so we hung around for a bit- next stop was The Last Drop, where, hysterically, we ran into the friars again (we'd noticed their absence as we exited the Black Bull). Then a drink at Finn's (aka "Finn McCool's"), where I talked with our bartendress about New York a bit, followed by some exploring off the row and towards the home base; we landed briefly at a Pub known as Doctor's, which was chock-a-block full of university kids. We are "oldsters" in there (bah!), and the lights are very bright, so we don't tarry long, though it was interesting people-watching. We wind up, of course, having last call at Bennet's, where we see our Grace again, and have one of the local men snap a photo of the three of us.
Yet another night whereupon one falls immediately into deep and deserved sleep as the head hits the pillow.
27 October 2005
12 October : Edinburgh day two
Wednesday found us waking in our nasty little hippie hostel, perhaps taking a few minutes longer than normal to sort out time and place. Cold. We opted not to use the hippie cleansing room (as likely so many hippies have done), dressed quickly and packed. We had a mission to accomplish, and this was to escape the Hostile Hostel! Ben had given us the name of the guesthouse in which he'd resided during the previous week, so first a phone box to check on vacancy, followed by coffee and bagels at Elephants and Bagels. Then back to the Hostile, and gave 'em a story of changed plans. Escape! (Renting towels indeed.)
Next came what we would colorfully call "March of the Drenchies" Our new residence was a bit south of Old Town, and a bit west. Of course, it was still raining, but we did finally arrive at our Aaron Guest House (three stars!), whose proprietor was gracious and soft-spoken, and whose clean white towels actually came with the room. Blessed civilization! The interesting thing about such instances is the contrast they provide. You see, after the Hostile Hostel, everyplace we stayed was a bit of "Home Sweet Home". Contrast is a brilliant intensifier while traveling, and should be acknowledged as such. (Also, shit like that makes for more interesting tales.)
So- then what? We wandered the city. Heading north we sought Dean Village, but aimlessly and meanderingly. Due to the continuance of precipitation, we had both got quite comfortable in our hats. (Always bring a hat when traveling.) Meandering down unknown crescents lined with great stone buildings; a glimpse of the water of Leith, across Dean Bridge on Queensferry... eventually we did find ourselves lost in a bit of unexpected suburban wasteland, including a CostCo or some such nonsense. Wending our way back south and easterly having consulted the map, we realised we were in the middle of yet another day of many miles. As we walked through one of the little village streets, we began to keep an eye out for a suitable place to have a somewhat late lunch. Nothing tempted. We decided, hungry though we were, to keep looking. We were this close to resorting to Cafe Nero (a chain, whose blocky lettering gives the impression they are all named Cafe Nerd, which was of course, what we called them)-- when we decided to keep going. This became our theme for the remainder of the trip, for just around the next bend we came upon the Bailie, about which we'd heard good things. Pub Lunch in a lovely below the stairs room; cozy, with dark photo-covered walls, a warm red ceiling and oxblood booths all round- perfect. "Two pints of Tennants, please."
Again refreshed, we meandered the whole day- getting a feel for the city, seeing Castle Rock from the North side for the first time along Princes Street (stunning), learning that New Town is boring, getting our heads about the layout of this strange and ethereal city. We also chanced upon a lovely old second-story cemetery stashed away at one end of Princes Street. It was filled with obelisks- signs of Templars. (Scotland was, after all, the land to which those remaining fled after King Philip's wholesale slaughter of them in post-crusades France. Although I think they were still the Knights of the Rosy Cross (Rosicrucians) at the time?- underground to Scotland they went!) We also climbed Calton Hill, site of an observatory and several monuments (one of which remains unfinished), and one of many spots for spectacular views over this enchanting town and its surrounds. All in a chill drizzle, but there is no staying indoors when traveling!
Later- pub dinner of comfort food, and football on the big screen of what would become our local: Bennett's, of the large and very Prague-minded stained glass windows, (which were, of course, what rightfully drew us to the place.)
Next came what we would colorfully call "March of the Drenchies" Our new residence was a bit south of Old Town, and a bit west. Of course, it was still raining, but we did finally arrive at our Aaron Guest House (three stars!), whose proprietor was gracious and soft-spoken, and whose clean white towels actually came with the room. Blessed civilization! The interesting thing about such instances is the contrast they provide. You see, after the Hostile Hostel, everyplace we stayed was a bit of "Home Sweet Home". Contrast is a brilliant intensifier while traveling, and should be acknowledged as such. (Also, shit like that makes for more interesting tales.)
So- then what? We wandered the city. Heading north we sought Dean Village, but aimlessly and meanderingly. Due to the continuance of precipitation, we had both got quite comfortable in our hats. (Always bring a hat when traveling.) Meandering down unknown crescents lined with great stone buildings; a glimpse of the water of Leith, across Dean Bridge on Queensferry... eventually we did find ourselves lost in a bit of unexpected suburban wasteland, including a CostCo or some such nonsense. Wending our way back south and easterly having consulted the map, we realised we were in the middle of yet another day of many miles. As we walked through one of the little village streets, we began to keep an eye out for a suitable place to have a somewhat late lunch. Nothing tempted. We decided, hungry though we were, to keep looking. We were this close to resorting to Cafe Nero (a chain, whose blocky lettering gives the impression they are all named Cafe Nerd, which was of course, what we called them)-- when we decided to keep going. This became our theme for the remainder of the trip, for just around the next bend we came upon the Bailie, about which we'd heard good things. Pub Lunch in a lovely below the stairs room; cozy, with dark photo-covered walls, a warm red ceiling and oxblood booths all round- perfect. "Two pints of Tennants, please."
Again refreshed, we meandered the whole day- getting a feel for the city, seeing Castle Rock from the North side for the first time along Princes Street (stunning), learning that New Town is boring, getting our heads about the layout of this strange and ethereal city. We also chanced upon a lovely old second-story cemetery stashed away at one end of Princes Street. It was filled with obelisks- signs of Templars. (Scotland was, after all, the land to which those remaining fled after King Philip's wholesale slaughter of them in post-crusades France. Although I think they were still the Knights of the Rosy Cross (Rosicrucians) at the time?- underground to Scotland they went!) We also climbed Calton Hill, site of an observatory and several monuments (one of which remains unfinished), and one of many spots for spectacular views over this enchanting town and its surrounds. All in a chill drizzle, but there is no staying indoors when traveling!
Later- pub dinner of comfort food, and football on the big screen of what would become our local: Bennett's, of the large and very Prague-minded stained glass windows, (which were, of course, what rightfully drew us to the place.)
11 October : Edinburgh day one
Tuesday morning. More lugging of the luggage (I packed like such a girl for this trip and will not do so again!), this time on the tube to King's Cross Station to connect (with three minutes to spare! brilliant!) with the Intercity high speed train up to Edinburgh. A pleasant enough way to spend 4 hours or so; writing, gazing out at blurred countryside; coffee. But with impatience, these hours can start to feel long.
Arrival at the Station in Edinburgh finally; around 4:30 I think? (16:30 there) Rain. A Search for Cowgate, a street which was not shown to be under South Bridge on the map Anders consulted. Bad map. So, a longer walk than anticipated, but- BUT! Even with luggage, and in a chill afternoon rain- here is a city which captivates instantly. One climbs the seemingly interminable Waverly Steps to Princes Street, and BEHOLD. A city like none I've ever seen. A city of such severe contrasts and such beauty; it is otherworldly. Here I will stop with this nonsense; look out for a link to photographs in the near future.
So, we reach the Cowgate Tourist Hostel (dreadful name to begin with), to find that our reservations had been muddled, so the proprietor assigned us to an unoccupied six-person suite. Suite; wrong word. The hostel (the Hostile Hostel as it would come to be known by us) was made up of apartments, each with several rooms, a shower room, a toilet room, plus a kitchen (the only spot in which smoking was permitted). The room we entered was dank and dour, had three metal bunk beds (oh yes- bunk beds), two wonky wardrobes, and-- nothing else. Not a stick of furniture or decor otherwise. But! At least there was a view to a construction zone out the window! Ha! We cast off the initial woe, dressed for dinner, and headed out in search of a phone box to connect with fellow Park Sloper, Ben, who also happened to be in the city; his last night in Edinburgh. He'd left a note with reception.
After finally connecting with him, and a couple of pints to shrug off the rain, we set off to find a pub still serving dinner, and found ourselves upstairs at the Deacon Brodie's. Oddly enough, it looked like early bird special hour at Denny's (the clientele- not the dining room)- perhaps a tour group? But our food was brilliant, especially as we'd not eaten since breakfast. After dinner: much tasting of various cask ales and single malts at a pub down a close called the Jolly Judge, followed by an absurd turn at the open-after-hours (that's after 11 or midnight over there, kids) Apex Hotel Bar. Toward the end of our evening there, we were accosted (not literally) by a very drunk and seemingly half-gay elderly gentleman, whose wife (beard?) had passed out on one of the hotel bar couches. He bought us [unwanted as we were trying to leave] drinks and treated us to a terribly surreal wind-up for our sort of Mindwalk (with-pints-and-single-malts-poured-on) evening.
Arrival at the Station in Edinburgh finally; around 4:30 I think? (16:30 there) Rain. A Search for Cowgate, a street which was not shown to be under South Bridge on the map Anders consulted. Bad map. So, a longer walk than anticipated, but- BUT! Even with luggage, and in a chill afternoon rain- here is a city which captivates instantly. One climbs the seemingly interminable Waverly Steps to Princes Street, and BEHOLD. A city like none I've ever seen. A city of such severe contrasts and such beauty; it is otherworldly. Here I will stop with this nonsense; look out for a link to photographs in the near future.
So, we reach the Cowgate Tourist Hostel (dreadful name to begin with), to find that our reservations had been muddled, so the proprietor assigned us to an unoccupied six-person suite. Suite; wrong word. The hostel (the Hostile Hostel as it would come to be known by us) was made up of apartments, each with several rooms, a shower room, a toilet room, plus a kitchen (the only spot in which smoking was permitted). The room we entered was dank and dour, had three metal bunk beds (oh yes- bunk beds), two wonky wardrobes, and-- nothing else. Not a stick of furniture or decor otherwise. But! At least there was a view to a construction zone out the window! Ha! We cast off the initial woe, dressed for dinner, and headed out in search of a phone box to connect with fellow Park Sloper, Ben, who also happened to be in the city; his last night in Edinburgh. He'd left a note with reception.
After finally connecting with him, and a couple of pints to shrug off the rain, we set off to find a pub still serving dinner, and found ourselves upstairs at the Deacon Brodie's. Oddly enough, it looked like early bird special hour at Denny's (the clientele- not the dining room)- perhaps a tour group? But our food was brilliant, especially as we'd not eaten since breakfast. After dinner: much tasting of various cask ales and single malts at a pub down a close called the Jolly Judge, followed by an absurd turn at the open-after-hours (that's after 11 or midnight over there, kids) Apex Hotel Bar. Toward the end of our evening there, we were accosted (not literally) by a very drunk and seemingly half-gay elderly gentleman, whose wife (beard?) had passed out on one of the hotel bar couches. He bought us [unwanted as we were trying to leave] drinks and treated us to a terribly surreal wind-up for our sort of Mindwalk (with-pints-and-single-malts-poured-on) evening.
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