Weekend in Edinburgh

Once upon a time, I discovered that our local public library had travel dvd’s. I think I was 14. About that time I also unearthed the Gaelic section – which I resolved many times to teach myself, but never did get around to it. These two forces have since created an incredible wish to go to Scotland – and this weekend that wish came true.

My study abroad program includes two weekend trips – one somewhere in the UK, and one to Paris. The anticipation as to where in the UK we were going was broken on my first day here, as the black and white letters on the schedule clearly spelled out the reality of a trip to Edinburgh. All summer I had been hoping and hoping that our UK trip would go to Scotland – I was elated to learn that it did! Just three weeks ago I was jumping up and down in my flat saying, “In three weeks we are going to Scotland!” And I can hardly believe that I have now returned from the land of the Scots.

From the moment we stepped off the train, we were on a busy schedule. We rushed to the hostel. We dropped off our bags. We took a brief tour with (kilt wearing) guides. We made a short stop at the new Parliament buildings – Scotland established its own Parliament in 1998 – on our way to King Arthur’s Seat, a volcanic formation at the edge of Edinburgh.

Climbing King Arthur’s Seat, Looking over Edinburgh

We ascended, descended, bought some souvenirs, ate dinner, and then met to go to a céilidh.

A Céilidh (cay-lee), Gaelic for a ‘visit among friends,’ is a social event where Scots gather to dance to traditional folk music. The music we heard was fairly tradition, and definitely folky. The violinist called the dances, explaining briefly how each was to proceed. Then couples gathered, lines formed, and the jigs and reels echoed through the candle-lit hall. It was so neat to see this little slice of life – to be a part of a typical social gathering.

The next morning started our day in the Highlands – what I felt was the real highlight of our trip. Our bus and guide were with “Haggis Tours” – a wealth of knowledge and fun facts about everything from William Wallace, to highland cows (coos), to mountain legends of beautiful women being preserved as majestic mountains as they wait for their Irish loves to return.

Our first stop was to visit a real native of the highlands – big, burly, and as ginger as they come. Who was this? Why, Hamish, the Highland Coo, of course!

Hamish the Coo

Passing more highland coos, normal coos, and plenty of sheep, we made our way towards our lunch destination where a special treat awaited us!

We pulled into a ski resort (open to bikers and hikers in the off season), went into the lodge, and it was then that I was handed my first Haggis. Haggis is basically all of the not-so-nice bits of the a sheep, historically cooked in the sheep’s stomach. Waste not, want not. I know, it sounds gross. But, as our guide explained, it is still better than what is packed into your average hot dog. In fact, it tasted rather like a refined sausage. Dare I say it? I am a fan of haggis. Granted, the venison burger that rested on top of it surely helped bolster my regard, but delicious is delicious – and there is no better word to describe my venison burger with haggis.

Don’t judge, it was delicious. If I could bring you some I would.

After lunch, we set out to explore some of the highlands on foot, but first came a short ride up the chairlift. At the top, the views were breath taking. Absolutely beautiful. Just two days before, one of my classes had been discussing what makes something beautiful. Everyone’s response will be different, but when I see mountains rising up in all their glory out of low valleys to immeasurable heights, I know I am in the presence of beauty. I could not help but think, what are papers and close textual analysis to this? This kind of beauty and creation is what authors, artists, scientists, philosophers, musicians, and mathematicians have just barely tapped at with the very tips of their fingers, if they have touched it at all. Wow. A picture can barely do it justice.

View from the Lift

Shoes sufficiently soggy from the moors, we traveled a little further down the road…

The road through Glen Coe, Scotland

We hiked a little, had our breath stolen many times, and then – as our shadows grew longer – we clambered back into the bus, a bit wet and a bit chilled, to head back to Edinburgh.

A little exhausted, and definitely overwhelmed with visions of mountain grandeur, a few friends and I sought out a cozy place to while away the evening. What we found was The Elephant House. If you are a big Harry Potter fan, you will appreciate that this is where JK Rowling put pen to paper for many of her books. She would go out for walks with her infant daughter to help her fall asleep, and then stop at this cafe for some time to write – so the story goes. A sign announces the author’s connection outside, there is a framed picture of Rowling on the wall along side a couple of news articles, and those on Harry Potter pilgrimage have added their names to endless lists on the bathroom wall (ex. Dumbledore’s Army). But, The Elephant House is still charmingly understated – just a dab of Harry Potter along-side plenty of elephants. It is open, well lit, and I immediately understood its draw to a writer seeking peace and productivity.

A little blurry, but here I am at The Elephant House

If you are not a Harry Potter fan, you will still appreciate The Elephant House’s cozy corners and warm things to eat after a long day in the mountains. We were fortunate enough to be seated at a low coffee table on the two couches on either side. We even had a little fake fire place to our left. We ordered hot coco, a little food, and indulged in lots of conversation about mountains, the virtues of cozy places, and we even tossed around some of our own story ideas that we would love to one day share with the world. I do wonder if one day, twenty years from now, we will go to The Elephant House and see where then unknown authors, now risen to great heights, have scribbled their names, paying homage to the woman who, for many people my age, had the greatest literary impact on their childhoods.

The next morning we spent only a half day in Edinburgh, which we used to visit Edinburgh Castle. A free, guided tour told us all about the castle’s flip-flopping between English and Scottish occupation – reflective of the Scottish nation as a whole. Then I ducked into exhibits on prisoners of war, the crown jewels, regimental history, and visited the oldest building that survived Robert the Bruce’s destruction (if the Scottish couldn’t hold it, he certainly wasn’t going to leave it to the English) – St. Margaret’s Chapel, build around 1130. The Castle also houses a beautiful war memorial. Originally build after WWI, thinking that that would be the greatest war of all time, it has been updated to honor the fallen of both WWI and WWII. Housing lists of names, emblems, and moving stain glass windows, it is a place of quiet, thoughtful remembrance.

Word above the entrance to the war memorial

And thus ends our trip to Scotland – if you have stuck through and read this whole post, thank you! I know it was a long one. The little bits and pieces I saw of Scotland were wonderful, everything I have been wishing for and more. I look forward to going back, and I hope you get a chance to go one day, too!