A Scottish Christmas

For months, I have been saving money scrupulously for a really fantastic Christmas and New Year vacation. One that's just for me, paid for completely by me, and one that is positively fabulous. My two-week trip has been planned for months, with all sorts of exciting things to do; well, exciting for me anyway. Some of you may not be excited or interested in all the things I'm doing, but I assure you I am. While I like travelling and hanging out with other people, I have to say I'm thoroughly enjoying getting to do pretty much whatever I want without worrying about whether or not someone else is enjoying it as much as I am. Being a single lady is pretty great, especially when there's no schoolwork or anything to worry about. This post is long. I want you guys to know that it is totally cool for you to skip around or just skim over the pictures. Fair warning, though: if you skip too much, you won't get to hear some of the funny stories I've been accumulating for the past few days. So.... proceed in whichever fashion best suits you.

So I'll begin at the beginning... I had Christmas a few days early this year because my fabulous family sent me a couple of Christmas packages ahead of time. Because of my travel plans, I couldn't take these relatively large boxes all the way to Scotland with me. So instead I Facetimed with my parents and the oldest Morgan girl (aka Biggest Sister Rachel) the night before I left, opening all my presents and oohing and aahing appropriately. I got a lot of really wonderful things this year. From my parents, I got a lot of warm-weather gear that I needed like boots and leggings and socks and scarves, nearly all black or dark grey. Paris has sort of brought me over to the dark side--well when it comes to fashion, that is. I also got a beautiful framed photo of my nieces, a nice wristwatch, and a beautiful pair of earrings. Mom even got Santa to send me a stocking filled with all sorts of fun American things that are either non-existent or outrageously expensive here. Also just generally fun things, like the cookies with my name on them (when will they ever learn to spell it correctly?) My Mom and Santa work well together.














After I had my early Christmas, I packed up and took the train first to London, then almost immediately got on a sleeper train to Edinburgh. On the right is a photo of the street where the hostel was, in the Old Town area of the city. It's a beautiful, really walkable area, with some really great history. This part of the city really looks like it just popped out of a medieval fairy tale with knights and ladies and the whole bit. Seriously. Ivanhoe could've been walking down the street next to me, and it would have taken me a second to realize he shouldn't be there. One of the things I love about Europe is the pedestrian-friendly towns. Edinburgh, especially the Old Town, is set up in generally the same way it was back in medieval times. That means cobbled streets, very long blocks, and almost no independent or free-standing buildings. It's much faster and easier to navigate on foot in most situations. On the left is a close, which is pretty much a narrow pedestrian passageway between the streets; the blocks can be quite long, so a close can be very helpful; plus, they're just fun! Like little secret passageways between the buildings. They do have a bus system, but I only attempted to use it once, right after I arrived. Normally, I have a really good sense of direction, but I think the cars and buses driving on the wrong side of the road got me all mixed up and disoriented. I ended up getting on a bus going the wrong way, and didn't realize it until I was a couple of miles down the road. I did end up finding my way back into town, thanks to some very friendly Scottish folk ("Oh, she's American! Listen to that charming little accent! Of course we'll help yeh find yer way.")

On actual Christmas morning, I went in search of a real English breakfast. It was 9:30am on Christmas morning, so most everything was closed, but I did manage to find a small cafe run by a foreign family. Couldn't quite place the accent, but I think it was Middle-Eastern. The guy who took my order looked Middle-Eastern, but spoke with this really interesting mix between an Arabic and Scottish accent. Anyway, I got my proper English breakfast, pictured on the right. What you've got there is lots of toast, a fried egg, baked beans, some tomato (that's pronounced tuh-mah-toh), sausage, and a little flat scone on the bottom. Oh, and a cup of hot tea, of course. I was beyond psyched for this meal for several reasons. The most important one is that I haven't had a proper breakfast in about four or five months. In France (at least with my host family), breakfast consists of one, maybe two pieces of toast with butter or jam on them. That's it. I'm not a big breakfast person, but that is not my idea of a good start to the day. So you can see why a breakfast like this that was really cheap (£3 for the whole thing) was such a big deal for me.

On Christmas day, I didn't end up doing anything terribly exciting except have a very amusing conversation with one of the guys staying in the hostel. I was sitting out in the hall, the only quiet place I could find to call home. I got to chat for a bit with my family before we were inevitably disconnected. My quiet spot also happened to be right outside the Men's room. Unfortunate, I know, but it was all I could get at that moment. So just after I got disconnected, this Scottish guy walks by, following a girl about my age who is obviously soooo not interested. (In the spirit of full disclosure: up to this point, I have told things pretty much exactly as they have occurred. I try to keep this blog PG-rated, so I had to edit the following conversation a bit.) The girl has totally blown him off, so he comes and sits down on the ground across from me. Oh, did I mention he's drunk? Totally plastered. He's a pretty good-looking guy, but he's about 8 or 10 years older than I am and not exactly my type. Despite all this, he strikes up a conversation that went something like this:

Drunken Scotsman: "There is something wrong with that girl there. She must be gay or something. Why else would she turn me down? I'm a good-looking guy. I'm fit, I'm good in bed. I've pretty much never been turned down for an easy lay. You're a girl. What's her deal?"
Me: "Well far be it from me to point this out, but maybe she's just not interested..."
DS: "Not interested? How could a straight woman not be interested in me? I don't think I've ever met a straight girl not interested in this hot bod!"
Me: "Ummm... Well you're looking at one."
DS: "What? You're seriously telling me that if you had the chance, you wouldn't do me right here and now? Normally I don't do Canadians, but I might make an exception..."
Me: "I'm American."
DS: "No you're not. You aren't near sexy enough to be an American girl. And no American girl has ever said no to me."

At this point, I got up and walked away (his hands were getting frighteningly close to places they had no business being). He was too drunk to get up and follow me, so I just left him all alone there to continue to consider what a great lay he is. Throughout most of the conversation I was torn between permanently maiming him in such a way that even he wouldn't find himself attractive or just calling up J.K. Rowling to inform her that Gilderoy Lockhart had clearly recovered from that misfired Memory Charm and was in need of a new magical mishap. Instead, I just went into the bathroom and laughed until I cried. Totally made my night.

On my final day of sightseeing, I explored St Giles' Cathedral, Edinburgh Castle, and the Royal Mile, all very old historic sites found in the Old Town. The Royal Mile is an historic walk that is actually a little longer than a mile stretching from Edinburgh Castle all the way down to the Palace of Holyrood-House. Starting up at the castle (that's it on the right), it's a downhill walk through the old historic area of the city. Very touristy, but totally worth it. Edinburgh Castle is built high on a rock above the city. The rock is actually part of a volcano that hasn't erupted in about a millenium. Humans have inhabited the site since about the 9th century B.C. The castle was built in the 12th century A.D. and continued to be the Scottish Royal Residence until the early 1600s with the unification of the Crowns of Scotland (After Queen Elizabeth I died and Edward of Scots took up the crown, uniting England, Ireland, and Scotland). After that, the castle functioned mainly as a military fortress. Personally, I'm more interested in the medieval history when it was the royal residence of Mary, Queen of Scots and before that, quite possibly Merida (Brave, anyone?). It's a beautiful landmark, and quite a hike.

This is what remains of Mary, Queen of Scots' chambers. The furniture was all removed a long time ago, but it's still interesting to think that this is the very room where King James I of England was born. In this same area of the castle, Scotland's Crown Jewels are also kept. They don't allow pictures of the display, so I don't have anything to show you all, but I will say that they were very beautiful and impressive.





This portion of the castle used to be just a small chapel for the Royal Family. In the 1920s, it was renovated as a war memorial to the Scottish soldiers who died in World War I and all subsequent wars. All told, it honors close to 210,000 Scottish soldiers. That's about twice the death rate of other British soldiers from the same period. Again, no pictures allowed inside, but it was very impressive.

This is a little something that a lot of people miss. Thanks to Rick Steves, I sure didn't miss it. It is a small cemetery for all the dogs who served the Scottish armies posted here, as well as any other distinguished dogs who were in residence here. It includes officers' dogs as well as the pets of the royal family and so on.

Saint Giles' Cathedral. Founded by John Knox himself at the height of the Scottish Reformation, it is the first Presbyterian Church ever. The building has been around since the 11th or 12th century, since before the reformation. I was fortunate enough to go to a Christmas Eve service here.




Now on to the Harry Potter portion of my trip. In case you don't know, J.K Rowling lives in Edinburgh. She's lived there since 1994, when she and her daughter left Jo's first husband and came back to the U.K. With pretty much no money, a small child, and a groundbreaking idea, Jo lived on welfare while she wrote the first Harry Potter book. She would often walk around town with her daughter in the stroller, waiting for her to fall asleep so she could sit and write in a cheap little cafe called "The Elephant House." Cheap, moderately quiet, with plenty of good food, it's a good place to sit and chill out. I myself sat for a couple of hours reading, writing, and people-watching. It's a great little spot. They sell postcards for those of us who tend toward the obsessive and need a little proof. There's a big sign out front proclaiming that this is "the Birthplace of Harry Potter" with a really cute picture of J.K. from back in the late '90s, before she was completely made of money.

My favorite moment of the trip was the bathroom. Not for the obvious reasons (a free bathroom in Europe is not something you pass by without taking advantage of it), but because when I walked into that bathroom, I felt surrounded by all of these kindred spirits who had come here to see where the magic was truly made. All over the walls in all different languages were messages of love to J.K. Rowling, quotes from the books, lovely doodles from fans. It was just so wonderful. It reminded me painfully of the scene in the last book when Harry visits Godric's Hollow to find similar messages scrawled on a sign commemorating his survival as a baby. I left my mark, of course. I hope J.K. comes by every now and then and looks at these; evidence of all the lives she's touched and the children she's influenced.

In the back of the cafe, near where she used to sit for hours writing out the novel longhand, there is a little wall of fame just for J.K., filled with clippings and pictures and things showing the real rags-to-riches story. Back in 2007, after she'd finished the final book, J.K. Rowling and Oprah sat down for an interview. I'm not a big Oprah person, but I remember really enjoying that interview because Oprah is the only person who can truly understand J.K.'s rags-to-riches story. The interview took place in the Balmoral hotel, where J.K. had finished the final book of the series (in case you can't tell, that's a picture of the front door of the hotel on the left). I bring it up, because there's this wonderful story that J.K. told about how she ended up staying in that hotel to finish the book. She was talking about how in some ways the money didn't change her life, and that sometimes she got frustrated with all the money and the problems that the money just couldn't solve. "I just couldn't find a quiet place to write. It was a huge problem. But then I realized that this was a problem I could throw money at!" So she took out a room at the fanciest hotel in town, the Balmoral, for a couple of weeks and got all that work done. She paid quite a bit for that room (room 553), and left her mark when she finished the book on January 11th, 2007. Appropriately inscribed on a bust of Hermes (the messenger god) that was in the hotel room, she wrote a little message to all the fans letting them know that the book was finally complete. Back then, she probably paid around £500/night for that hotel room. Today, the suite has been renamed "The J.K. Rowling Suite" and for a measly £1,000/night (that's about $1700) you can stay in the suite with all the original furniture. Personally, I found it strangely appropriate that I could afford to eat at the Elephant House twice, but probably never in my wildest dreams will I be wealthy enough to stay in that suite. It's a very clear illustration of the J.K. Rowling story.

Well. What a week. I plan to return many many times. Now I'm in London for another wonderful week. It's going to be wonderful!