Scotland -- Continued

British Sunday morning TV is very strange. It's mostly kids shows. Some are imported from Nickelodeon, but they have some really odd homegrown stuff, too.

Breakfast is the usual cereal and toast. I have the Cocoa Pops again because I can't get enough of them. I also have the eggs and mushrooms. I've never eaten this many eggs and mushrooms in such a short period of time before. This may not be too typical of British breakfasts, but it does seem to be the usual hotel meal.

Our morning is basically the drive to Edinburgh. We're going to have the entire afternoon free in the city, but we have to drive all the way across Scotland to get there. Our only stop is just outside Edinburgh where we have a chance to take pictures of the two bridges over the Firth of Forth. One is the suspension bridge we drove over, and the other is a railroad bridge that has quite an amazing-looking steel girder construction. The two bridges look just great next to each other. Then we drive on into the city.

Our hotel is right on the main street, right across from the main park. We have a great view of the Sir Walter Scott memorial. Well, most of it. They're doing some of their unending restoration work, and parts of the memorial are almost totally obscured. Now it's time to get out on the town for the afternoon.

First, find something to eat, I think. There's a great pizza place a couple of blocks down, and I get a personal-size deep-dish pizza and cheese garlic bread. It's quite good for not being made in America. The waitress is cute, so I tip heavily.

After a brief look at some of the shops, I decide that I had better see the castle while I still have time. I go down into the park, and right up to the hill that the castle is on. Sheer rock, straight up. I guess the idea of a castle is to make it difficult to get into, and this one succeeds brilliantly. I begin walking counter-clockwise around the base, and eventually go about 3/4 of the way around, I think, before I find the entrance. They are putting together the scaffolding for the bleachers for the Edinburgh Tattoo, so I guess that the Tattoo won't be the "surprise" that Keith has promised us for tonight. The guide tells us later that it takes 2 months to set it up, and another 2 months to take it all down again. They've been at it for 2 weeks at this point.

Since the castle isn't an official part of the tour, we have to pay our own way in. This involves 5 pounds 50, it turns out. I scrape together enough change, and decide that for this price, I am really going to see this castle. At the souvenir shop inside, the guide book is another 3 pounds. I decide to skip it this time because that would involve either cashing another traveler's check and having that much more Scottish money to deal with, or buying a bunch of stuff so I can put it on the credit card. Neither option is attractive. I go back out to wait for the guided tour. The tour guide is a lot of fun. He explains all the defenses they built to keep people out. Now, he says, they leave the gates open and just charge everyone 5 pounds 50 to get in. I am going to ask him why the cost is so high given the Scots' reputation for thriftiness, but then I realize that with the exception of the guides, no one else in the castle is Scottish. I guess they are thrifty after all. I take a good look around after the tour, trying to see everything so I can get my money's worth. They have a great exhibition of the Scottish crown jewels and Honors of State, and a really large cannon called Mons Meg. It seems Sir Walter Scott was largely responsible for finding both of these things after they had been hidden away for many years. Mons Meg had been stored in the Tower of London, I believe, while the Crown Jewels and Honors had actually been walled up in the castle and forgotten about. Dedicated guy, that Scott.

Now there's just enough time to go hunt down the Greyfriar's Bobby memorial before I have to get back to the hotel and change for the evening's festivities. Keith told us that it was on George IV Bridge Street, so I start wandering down the street looking for Grey's Church and the churchyard. Instead, I find the statue out on the sidewalk at an intersection across from a couple of pubs with the words "Greyfriar's" and "Bobby" in their names. The statue is right out by the street, so I get my picture and leave. I never do find the church and churchyard with their graves. Other people on our tour do, but they miss the statue. We'll drive past it in the morning on our way out so everyone can get a look.

We meet in the lobby of our hotel at 6:30 for an "Evening of Traditional Scottish Music and Dancing." This is the first time we've really gotten dressed up on the tour, and everyone seems stunned to find out that I have clothes other than my usual T-shirt and jeans. We walk over to the James Hotel, and are crowded into a banquet room with a couple of hundred (or more) other tourists. We get served the vegetarian option for the meal, which turns out to be the usual rice and mushroom thing. Dessert is a strawberry shortcake with some sort of cream which might actually contain some sort of alcoholic beverage! However, I'm not too keen on strawberries, so I only sample it.

Then it's time for the show. They have a band consisting of a drummer, a bass player, and a keyboardist, lead by an accordion player. They even bring in bagpipes and a drummer for some numbers. The emcee sings and tells jokes, and introduces the other performers in the show: a really good female singer, and some dancers - two girls and a guy - who perform during some of the numbers. The accordion player even gets to do a solo and tell some jokes. The Scottish aren't as dour and serious as the English would like to think they are. Midway though the program, they pipe in the haggis. Our host recites the traditional Robert Burns poem, then they serve hagises (hagii?) to all of the tables. We stick with just the taters. Our bus driver has some haggis, and he says it's not too bad. To each his own, I guess. Then we get more music. Our host gets interrupted once by a guy who has a request, and who seems to be quite well-lubricated, but he takes it in stride, and does the song for the guy. This is probably not the first time this had happened. All in all, a pretty good show.

They have videos of the show on sale in the lobby when we leave, just in case we want to see it again when we get home. This is actually the longest-running show of its kind in Scotland. It's been going for over 20 years. Obviously, there have been a couple of cast changes, but the basic structure is the same.

When we get back to the hotel, it's too late for much TV before bed. And on Sunday night, there isn't much on, anyway. We missed Fawlty Towers while we were over at the show, and that seems to be the only really good show on tonight. Sure, it sounds like I'm obsessing on TV, but there's just something about watching a British comedy in Britain, even though you've seen it a hundred times at home. It just somehow seems right to see them on the BBC.

Monday, June 19, 1995

It's Monday morning, and time for The Big Breakfast again. Hey! What do they mean, Dani was just a substitute host while the regular female host was on her honeymoon? Well, the show's still sort of fun, I guess. It's just not quite the same.

Well, after the usual breakfast of cereal and eggs, we're off to the Scottish Woolen Mill at Galashiels. The tour is quite interesting because we actually get to go on the mill floor while the work is going on. I suppose the workers are used to this by now, but all these annoying tourists getting in their way and ogling them has to get on their nerves just a little. They are quite serious about their craft here. The checking and repairing room is unbelievable. The women that work in there just sit with this cloth in front of them all day while they check it for imperfect threads and weaves, then clip the bad stuff out and put new threads in. I'd much rather be supervising the weaving machines. Much noisier, but it is less tedious, I think. Of course they have a shop where you can buy their stuff, but again, I don't find much that is so interesting that I must buy it. Time to hit the town and get some lunch, I think.

Unfortunately, since I managed to divest myself nicely of all my Scottish money yesterday, I have none to buy lunch with today. Good one. I find the travel agency that sells American Express traveler's checks and cash another one. Great, now I have to get rid of it. No problem. First, the great Egg Mayonnaise for lunch, and I'm down to 15 pounds in notes. I find a bookstore and pick up a History of Scotland which takes care of the 10 pound note. Then I find a news agent and get a magazine. This should take care of the 5 pound note. Rats! He gives me a Scottish 1 pound note back in change. The British have gotten rid of these, but apparently the Scots have hung onto theirs. They probably just give them out as change to the tourists. I, of course, just take it and don't ask for a pound coin instead. I must get more assertive one of these days. Well, there's only one thing to do. On the way back to the bus, I stop at another news agent's and get a candy bar. Problem solved, and it only cost me 12 pounds or so. Fine. Just fine.

Copyright © 1995,1996 Stanley Cottrell II

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