Edinburgh

One great European adventure I had was my journey to Edinburgh, Scotland.

I didn’t really go to any tourist attractions, nor really do anything specific at all, but it was still just a magical time. The food and the weather of this city were not my favorite, but it was still amazing. I remember taking the plane ride there from Prague with my two friends, and exchanging our leftover Polish zlotny to somehow convert into British pounds to somehow buy us a couple of waters and a soda. We landed at the airport sometime late in the evening, when it was dark and the air was somewhat wet. We boarded a double-decker bus that dropped us off right downtown.

In fact, our couchsurfing destination turned out to be right downtown, which was a very nice flat rented out by a few friendly people in their mid to late twenties. You could literally see the castle right out the window, which either looked grey, or was permanently fogged by the eternal clouds and sporadic mists and rain of the greater United Kingdom…

Despite the rain and mist, I felt a bout of adventure and inspiration under my umbrella, through the wet sidewalks with old buildings, and through the roads where people drove on the wrong side. I felt inspired by the castle gates and monuments that I had no idea the history about, and also the occasional plaid-infested tourist trap store blasting electronic bagpipe music, which sold Braveheart paraphernalia, shoddy kilts, endless shot glasses and stuffed animals resembling the Loch Ness monster. I wandered through the above-ground infrastructure of this medieval-looking old city and its dark buildings that appeared like they had put up with hundreds of years of oppression and gloom.

We kept going back to this Christmas market that was set up in the center of town, part of which was full of German vendors selling all sorts of charming but useless crafted items, as well as lots of forms of holiday baked goods and sugar. We rode the Ferris wheel and the carousel to be extra goofy. We watched the merry people ice skating on the rink below, and drank wintery warm drinks to cheer ourselves under the dampening blanket of grey clouds.

Of course no trip to Scotland is complete without the pub trips. We found some with typical Scottish names, and rather than having DJs bumping it to those on the dance floor, they had live bands that usually played the same songs over again in a loop. One pub was full of people of all ages on a Friday night, and the band was playing “You’ll take the high road and I’ll take the low road” as every other song. Although I heard that song about five times that night, I’m sure these Scottish regulars had heard that song exponentially more than that. Another Irish-themed pub named Dropkick Murphys had a similar band that would play a version of Amazing Grace, but modified their verses by singing “I once was drunk, but now I’m found!!!!!” I heard this line at least four times.

One day my friend and I took a walk to the water. I was not sure which body of water it was, and was less sure where I was going, but managed to walk the way down and down, through streets and more streets of endless residential areas that vaguely reminded me of how residential neighborhoods of London were represented in the Disney movies I would watch as a child. These particular streets in real life were beautiful, repetitive, often gated, quiet and empty, and I kept walking down, enjoying a place I had never seen before.

Finally got to the water and it was bluish and more grey in the distance, with a tiny, brown makeshift beach and some seagulls scattered around. I wasn’t sure where the other side of the water led to, but it was gorgeous and unique and worth the long, strange journey. On the way back, we boarded the top of a double-decker bus while some mumbling individual in a dirty jacket kept talking to himself about the town being run by the Teletubbies. I half paid attention to this, and half paid attention to the moving view outside the window, seeing how the Scots built their neighborhoods in this particular route, their local version of supermarkets and hardware stores and convenience stores and routine establishments with their own cultural touch.

It also turned out to be Saint Andrew’s Day when I was there. I’m still not sure what that means, but there sure was a lovely fireworks show!

Reflecting on Scotland, I realize I was not really sure what was going on, knew very little about the country and maybe did not quite do anything in particular. I have to say it was the best non-particular trip I’ve had!