Princes Street Gardens

We travelled 50 minutes by “long-distance” train from Glasgow to Edinburgh. Jason was appalled by the price of the train ticket: £14 (AU$28) one-way! But it’s a 68km journey explained the Train Guard. Jason's reply: “ that's a suburban train trip in Australia, mate, and would cost about 5 quid”.

We arrived at Edinburgh Waverley station and embarked on our 15-minute walk to our accommodation. A constant theme when we’re travelling is getting lost or going off course because we put too much faith in Google maps. For some reason, the satellites in the UK can't seem to pin point our position with precision and sends us off in the wrong direction. With a few expletives, we were back on track and arrived within the vicinity of where we needed to be. Then we did the block trying to find the exact location, whilst lugging around 17kgs each on our backs. Soon we realised that the houses are numbered in blocks and the name of the street covers the entire block. Unlike in most other cities where generally the house fronts that share the same street belong to that street with odd numbers on one side and even numbers on the other side, this area was different. Each side belonged to a different street name. We thought we were in the wrong area until we worked out the system.

It’s customary for us to offload our bags and then explore the area, often to find provisions for our stay. We headed out on our expedition around the neighbourhood when all of a sudden it was if the switch to the Artic winds was flicked to the high setting. It was as cold as a witch's teat and a cold that we’ve not felt in a long time, and I certainly wasn’t dressed in the appropriate attire to deal with these conditions. I started blowing “smoke” from my mouth and blowing it towards Jason. He looked at me like a circus freak, thinking what is he on, until he realised. We couldn't handle the conditions and quickly retreated. We even ran part of the way home just to warm up our bodies.

Later in the evening, we met up with a Scottish girl, Amber Cornell, that we met in Ibiza about six months ago. She invited us to dinner and cocktails at Tigerlily, an upmarket restaurant on George Street in Edinburgh New Town. She then took us on a tour of Edinburgh as we slightly staggered to Habana nightclub where we were joined by Tricia, another Scottish girl who we met in Ibiza at Ushuaia nightclub. The stagger was mainly due to the number of steps we had clocked up rather than too much booze. After a drink and a dance, we continued onto CC Booms for some more drinks. Thankfully we got a lift home from Tricia, otherwise it probably would have been a stagger home.

The next morning, we got up early and walked to the Old Town of Edinburgh. We don’t normally do tours but we made an exception on this occasion so that we could explore Mary King’s Close, a small laneway lined with late Sixteenth century houses that is now hidden beneath other buildings. The Close was named after a merchant woman who made a good fortune from sewing garments and selling fine cloths from a shop on the High Street called a laich forebooth, or a low stall. Mary King was a burgess, which meant that she had voting rights, an uncommon thing for a woman of her time. She was a widow with four children. In 1753 the burgh council decided to erect a new building, the Royal Exchange (now the City Chambers) on top of the Close. Even Jason enjoyed the tour with its interactive and mixed media approach to presenting the history of the time.

We also got to learn about other characters who lived in the Close and how life may have been in the late Sixteenth and early Seventeenth century. One of the houses that remains in its original condition showed the roofing technique of the late Sixteenth century, which used horse hair to cover the ceiling, adding some insulation to the room. The poor couldn't afford wall paper so some made their own using vegetable stamps, like a Sixteenth century Tonia Todman or Martha Stewart. The Victorian era rooms included wall paper with arsenic and a toilet with running water. Apparently the owners were so proud of their thunder box that they used it with their front door wide open so they could lord it over their neighbours. Maybe they were just exhibitionists.

We also paid a visit to the Edinburgh cemetery. In the centre of the cemetery stands a guard tower that once had a permanent guard to deter grave robbers. Grave robbers stole dead bodies to get money from scholars who used them to study human anatomy. All in the name of survival and scholarship.

We were staying in a bed and breakfast in Abbeyhill, a short distance from the city centre. Another Scottish guy was staying in the accommodation, and together with the owner of the B&B would trap us to talk about all kinds of crap. Somehow I let my guard down and was forced to hear random stories that went on forever but went nowhere until I found an opportunity to escape. Then it was Jason’s turn. The B&B owner had the ability to talk under water and on every single topic you could imagine. He knew it all, had done it all. Been there done that.

In one conversation, the English B&B owner revealed he thought Kath and Kim was a fly-on-the-wall documentary, a real housewives of Australia. We set him straight – well, we corrected his understanding of the show. No, it is a satirical comedy. It kind of showed what he thought of Australians: boorish and uncultured people. But I can tell you the British aren’t all Lords and Dames, and even those that are aren’t exactly role models: think Prince Andrew.

On our third day, we visited the Edinburgh Castle, the birthplace of King James VI of Scotland and King James I of England, as well as the royal residence of Mary Queen of Scots. Afterwards we visited Mary Queen of Scots’ Bath House. But historians are unsure if there was actually a bath in the room. At any rate, the royal family used the building as a place to relax and rest. It gave us a glimpse of life in the late Sixteenth century.

Later in the day, we met up with Kylie (a.k.a Trixie O'Connor), the remainder of the Scottish trio from Ibiza. After clocking up 20,000 steps each day, our bodies were craving calories and what better way to make up the deficit but with chocolate fondue and white chocolate milkshakes followed by a IRN Bru, the Scottish national soft drink. The bru kind of tastes like a creamy soda with a twist of something else. For lunch we had to try a Scottish pie and Bridie, a kind of Scottish pasty. But we couldn't bring ourselves to try haggis.

We had a few hours to kill before heading to our next destination, so we wandered the streets in search of one more little Scottish treat. We stumbled upon a bakery and had to sample their goodies. Two beef sausage rolls and two fudge doughnuts later and we were ready to get back to our accommodation to continue on our onward journey. The owner of the B&B was still at the house on our return despite saying he wouldn’t be; I mean he didn’t want to be tied to the house. Apparently he lived somewhere else but he seemed to be at the house every single minute of the day. I'm fairly certain he was glad to get rid of us. He certainly didn't offer to have us back again.

You’d also be glad to know that the Lost World is no longer in hiatus; it has taken a hold of me this time, not once, not twice but thrice. It got me real good this time. Of course, the sympathetic Jason remarked with “I bet this doesn’t make it to the blog”, and then threatened to commence this own blog to provide his perspective (known as Jason’s World). I blame this triple episode on Cyclone Jason who ripped through the room, which created mess and disorder.

Next stop: Copenhagen.Okumaya devam et