THURSDAY, OCTOBER 18
A whole new scale, a whole new sensibility greeted us in the morning upon opening the curtains to reveal the corner of London and Easter Streets in Edinburgh. Inside, the apartment had high ceilings, flowing grey curtains and long, white walls.
BREAKFAST DIVE
Outside, the air was thick with the smell and weight of the sea. Though our plan was to eat at a small bakery/restaurant just down the street, it was closed so we walked in the cool, slight breeze to what may be the greasiest spoon in Edinburgh. A hole in the wall with four plastic, flower tablecloth-covered tables, the smell of grease and cigarette smoke hung in the dimly lit room. The plastic and metal chairs were flimsy, the legs uneven. A middle-aged cook with high blond hair was having tea with her friend.
Chloe had cold beans and white toast, and I had a smorgasbord of weird — haggis, blood sausage, ham, and a flattened, slippery cooked ball of dough called a scone. The upside, it was cheap. And the women were extremely kind (though their accents were hard for us to understand), providing us with information about the city buses.
BUS RIDE TO DOWNTOWN
Edinburgh’s grandeur and maturity were enhanced after the edgy, frenetics of Dublin. This felt like a city in control of itself, stately and grandfatherly.
An Italian woman in the Prince Street tourist office spent 20 minutes helping us map out the next days, including booking tickets to Cyrano de Bergerac.
NORTH BRIDGE AND DETOURS TO CASTLE
We walked over the North Bridge, up High Street to Royal Mile, making a few detours along the way…to a museum, a library, and the restored close (or alley) that leads to the Riddles Court courtyard. Riddles Court is a world historic site, dating back to the late 1500s, which was once the residence of philosopher Thomas Hume and later where poet Patrick Geddes established the first summer university in Edinburgh in the 1880s.
Royal Mile, lined with tourist shops, selling cashmere sweaters and kilts, leads to the entrance of the most important site in Edinburgh, Edinburgh Castle.
EDINBURGH CASTLE
Heavy gates mark the entrance. A short free tour got us started. Then we managed to visit every room in the castle, including the tiny, stone room where James the First, Mary Queen of Scot’s son, was born and the gallows that held American revolutionaries in the late 1700s.
A slightly tacky diorama of dressed dummies (some were kings) explained the coronation process. St. Margaret’s Chapel, built in 1130 by King David and named for his mother, is the oldest surviving building in Edinburgh, and totally charming. It’s tiny, able to hold only about fifteen people with walls over two feet thick, and a tiny stained glass window no larger than a shoebox. Weddings are still performed here. That’s one way to limit the size of a wedding party.
The castle sits on a massive, jagged rock, protected by layers of stone walls and metal gates, impenetrable to invaders. The height offers an amazing view of the city’s eerie, narrow warrens and closes, hidden cemeteries, darkened stone churches and buildings, grey stone walkways, strange and wonderful spires, and hills and ocean beyond. It is easy to envision the lives of people who once lived here, to understand how this place ignited the imagination of J.K. Rollings. In the same way that Venice projects shadows, Edinburgh feels occupied by as many ghosts as living beings.
SOME HISTORY
Edinburgh is thousands of years old. Castle Rock was a hill fort in the Middle Ages. Then from the 7th to the 10th century, it was part of the Kindgom of Northumbria, and residence of Scottish kings. The New Town wasn’t established until the 1800s. Nearly a tenth of Scotland’s 5.4 million people live in Edinburgh, which is the second largest city in Scotland — Glasgow is larger — and home to Scotland’s Parliament.
LUNCH AND THE SCOTTISH NATIONAL GALLERY
It was pouring rain as we looked for lunch. Makar’s Gourmet Mash Bar was on the way to the Scottish National Gallery and we stopped to sit and eat grotesquely large portions of food over grotesquely large servings of mashed potatoes.
The Scottish National Gallery, free like all the museums in Scotland, contains a great collection spanning 300 years and the European continent, from grand Titians, and Canalettos, to small DaVincis. Modernist painters are on one floor, Monet, Gaugin, Van Gogh, etc. with less known Scottish painters. I was so excited — our first large museum of European works — and probably overwhelmed Chloe with information.
CHASING ARTHUR’S SEAT
We exited the National Gallery with the guards when it closed at 5pm. Prince Street and the North Street Bridge were busy with people leaving work. Instead of turning toward the Castle after crossing the bridge, we headed toward Holyrood, the Queen of Scotland’s palace, again passing kilt and cashmere shops. The street drops down slightly into government and parliament offices buildings.
Our goal was to reach Arthur’s Seat, not really a seat at all but instead a spot on top of the volcanic cliff that makes up the main ridge of Holyrood park, described by Robert Lewis Stevenson as “a hill for magnitude, a mountain in virtue of its bold design.” It is strikingly powerful the way the hill is formed, steep and wild, and quite a climb.
We passed a few other eager climbers, some runners, and some runners with dogs. A group of young people picnicked and drank beer at the top. The sun was beginning to set, light fading by the time we reached the peak, softening the 360 degree view of Edinburgh below. The wind was strong, heightening the wildness of the distant sea and rugged country below.
It was a long walk back to the apartment. A salad dinner and a little Netflix before we put our tired and happy selves to bed.
