Thursday morning, I woke up to the sun shining through the window. This was somewhat of a rarity in Scotland, so I understand. Turns out it was supposed to be beautiful all day, around 53F. I made the (awesome) Scottish oatmeal that David bought me (I had posted on my couchsurfing profile that I pretty much eat the same thing for breakfast everyday, eggs and oatmeal, however this oatmeal was so filling that I never made it to eggs).
I took the bus that David had said would take me to the castle. I asked an attendant which stop I should get off at, and he said George Street stop. Okay. Easy enough. Turns out there are several George Street stops, and the buses in Scotland don't announce where you're stopping, you just have to know. I got off on the first George Street stop, which I later found out was the furthest one from the castle...
I could see the castle from where I was, so I walked in that general direction. David had also introduced me to this AWESOME application I downloaded onto my tablet computer. It was basically a travel guide app for any city that you could want to visit. You searched the city you wanted, downloaded the guide, and you could access it even without being in range of wifi. The best part, it has a map of each city with little markers of things worth seeing/eating/etc. and it uses your GPS location to show you where you are. Presumably so you don't get lost...
The thing is, the map doesn't show elevation.
You wouldn't think that elevation would be that important. Neither did I.
As I'm walking towards the castle, I wandered into Princes Park, which was a giant beautiful park that sat in a deep valley in between the new and old districts of the town. The valley had at one time been a lake, but during new town development, it had been drained and made into a public park. The park was literally right next to the castle.
Only the park was over 200 ft below the castle.
There it was. Mocking me. Turns out that even though I was so close, I had QUITE a bit of walking to do before I could actually get there.
En route to the castle, I stopped at the National Gallery. Outside on the pavillion there was a Scotsman in full dress playing the bagpipes. It sounded really impressive until you realized he was playing Twinkle Twinkle and Old McDonald. What a business man. He had quite a lot of coins in his donation hat. Within the museum, I saw several Titians and Rembrandts, a few Reubens (who's one of my favorites), and a whole section by a painter named William McTaggart who I really really liked. All I gathered is that he is Scottish, and his paintings had an impressionistic feel to them. Mostly seascapes, very beautiful.
My favorite part of the gallery was the red chalk drawing exhibition they had. To me, drawings are far more interesting than most paintings. They had a Raphael and a Reubens, as well as several other artists that I wasn't familiar with. They were all stunning. Made me wish I had brought my own red chalk with me. (I debated taking a sketchbook with me, but decided if I was ever moved to draw, lined paper would do fine) I skipped the advertised Boticelli they had upstairs. I've never been a huge fan, and I've already seen his two most famous pieces.
Upon exiting a different door of the museum, I found some stairs that lead up the hill. Finally, I was getting somewhere. My travel app map said I still had a bit of traversing to do in order to access the singular entrance to the castle. On the way, I stopped at a cafe for a sandwich, and to email David saying that even though he had my phone number, my phone had died (whoops), and I would be back at his place later. By the time I traversed the (enormous) hill to the castle, it was already 4 o'clock (16:00). The man at the ticket window suggested that I come back tomorrow when I'd have more time, as the castle closed at 5.
Great.
Back down the hill I went. I stopped at St. Giles Cathedral, a very famous and beautiful church. I wandered in to the antechapel, which was a newer addition to the existing cathedtral. It was dedicated solely to the Scottish Order of the Thistle (Thistle being the Scottish national flower), which is an order of chivalry that includes 16 knighted members selected by the Sovereign, and the Sovereign herself. I would not have known any of this, had I not met the man that was hiding out in the small chapel room.
This guy, without a doubt, was one of the silliest people I have even encountered.
He whipped out this giant flashlight and started pointing around the room to the different carvings and coats of arms. After each thing he pointed out, he gives a little laugh. Not like a normal laugh. It was like a hissing/shushing noise. Like he was trying to pronounce a word that began with the letter K, but he never actually got to the rest of the word. He would point out the tiny carved lions, and Kkk Kkkk Kkkkk laugh. Here was the mermaid on the knight's coat of arms, Kkk Kkkk Kkkkk. He seemed to know where every tiny carved pelican was, and what every little status symbol meant. I asked him how long he had worked here. "Oh I'm just a volunteer" Aha. That explains a lot. Other people started walking in the chapel at that point (it had been just him and I the past half hour), so I made sure to thank him for his time before I left.
Here's more information if you're as interested as I was.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Order_of_the_Thistle
I still had a bit of time before I told David I would be back. I discovered an old cemetary on another hill that included David Hume's grave. I also happend upon Calton Hill, sort of a look out hill with lots of monuments. Then, I hopped back on the bus and headed back to David's flat.
He was already home, but was soon heading off to a friendly football (soccer) match. (This was kind of ironic because that is exactly what Soner had done on Thursdays). I stayed in (catching up on my blog, believe it or not). When he came back, he had all the fixings for dinner, and made an awesome chili like stew over rice. I kind of felt guilty that I hadn't bought dinner (as he was hosting me for goodness sake), I offered to go get wine to contribute, but apparently there wasn't a store I could go to nearby. I sure as hell couldn't drive here. Wrong side of the road/car AND manual transmission. It'd be a death wish.
After eating, it was Scottish culture lesson time. Watch Trainspotting or Braveheart. I wasn't sure if I could last through Braveheart, so I picked the former. Had to have David translate several of the movie lines, as I couldn't understand the Scottish when they started talking too fast. The slang was different too. Of the three main UK accents, Irish was probably the hardest to understand, but Scottish was definitely the most attractive.
We called it an early night after the movie, as he offered to take me into town on his way to work in the morning. My flight to Oslo was at 4, and so it didn't make sense for me to return to his apartment again, after I visited the castle.
From one of my favorite places so far,
Tegs
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