Scotland

Castles and palaces and kilts in between – wandering through Edinburgh

I awoke to a spectacular blue sky day in Edinburgh – only slightly more likely than one in Ireland apparently. And as it was outside my window, the castle was my first tourist attraction to tackle. I decided that if I was going to visit a proper castle (Blarney being more a ruin than a walled castle arrangement) then Edinburgh Castle would be the perfect choice so I climbed the steps across the road from the hotel than took me to the castle forecourt. It alone provided spectacular views over Edinburgh. The charge was 11 pounds (except that with the VAT reduction, it was 10 pound and some silly number of pence. This actually worked out really well for me because it gave me a chance to get rid of some change. Grappling with working out different money doesn’t lend itself to paying with the correct change. Consequently I think there is at least a kilo of foreign change in my carry-on luggage. They don’t exchange anything less than a Euro either.)

 

The castle was quite spectacular, and probably more interesting for military history buffs than myself. As well as the Museum of the Royal Guards, it also houses Edinburgh’s war memorial, which is inside the castle’s spectacular chapel. There was also a fantastic prisoners of war exhibition as this was where the prisoners from the American war of Independence were held. Apparently some prisoners captured just off the coast during the second world war were also house here temporarily but reportedly in more hospitable conditions. The war memorial, predictably, was off limits to cameras, as were the Scottish crown jewels, also housed here. So now I’ve seen a real crown and apparently the colour of fabric inside the crown actually denotes the country’s religion – the purple catholic velvet was replaced at some point with the red protestant one. Interesting when you think that in Asia red is a colour of luck and prosperity and purple the colour associated with dearth. Green just seems to be associated with Ireland (and the environmental movement more recently). It doesn’t seem like anyone has taken ownership of orange so I guess it belongs wholeheartedly to the modern marketing of mobile phones, financial institutions and supermarkets.

 

Along with two cafes, two gift shops and a book shop, you can also walk through an exhibition about the kings and queens of Scotland, through the royal apartments, where a woman dressed in period costume was giving a talk on the life of women in the castle and the Great Hall. The hall was quite spectacular, although, unfortunately they were restoring the ceiling when I visited and the scaffolding obscured the grandeur.

 

By far my favourite part of the castle (apart from obviously the cannons on the battlements, was the dog’s graveyard. In A testament to the high regard in which the Scottish Royal Guard hold their working dogs, there is a graveyard just below the top of the castle where the dogs are buried. While I imagine the remains of some ancients may lie here, this was the obly graveyard I saw at the castle.

 

From the castle I took a walk along the infamous golden mile, which had probably more souvenir shops than Temple Bar in Dublin. And there were varying degrees of quality, which could easily be judged by the price being charged for a kilt. They went all the way from a bargain-basement 20 pounds (with bright tartan likely woven in India and a free sporon) to hundreds of pounds for the genuine article weaved in the highlands and individually tailored.

 

I had been warned before I arrived but the Scottish don’t like to take English money (they print their own Scottish notes at the Royal Bank of Scotland). It wasn’t too much of a problem because I was almost out of cash anyway. I had more issues, mostly good-natured jibes – when using Scottish money in England. One or two people have been reluctant to take it after the RBS stocks crashed recently. I found it funny that they use English money in Northern Ireland but the Scotts actually prefer their own money.

 

It seems the Scottish are disputing the Lapland claim to Christmas (probably because of the tartan thing) – I found two shops selling quality Christmas decorations and paraphernalia along the Golden Mile. What I didn’t find was very many places to eat that weren’t owned by Starbucks. Eventually I stopped at a little café and decided on a baked potato with coleslaw and a side salad. I had been eating far too much really stodgy food and wanted something a little bit healthier. I chose the potato because at least if the salad was crap, I had something to eat. The salad was OK in the end – iceberg lettuce, a couple of Spanish olives and some beetroot. Now I’m well known as being a condiment queen and I’m pretty liberal with the condiments but I swear there was more coleslaw dressing on the coleslaw than there wss vegetables in it. And on top of that it had a big dollop of yoghurt dressing on top. It’s all well and good to ask me whether I want skim milk in my tea but why bother when you serve this with it?

 

After finishing the salad and some of the potato (once I scraped the heart attack-inducing condiments off it), I continued on my way down the Ryal Mile darting up and down the side lanes off it and eventually finding my way back to the main road. I passed at least four pickup piints for ghost tours and also discovered Real Mary King’s Close where quite a bit of the haunting is said to take place. As I ventured closer to the Queen’s residence in Edinburgh, Holyrood House, I was reminded that this isn’t just a tourist attraction, people actually do live here. At the bottom of the Golden Mile, opposite the modern Scottish parliament building were a number of rows of quite modest housing. A plaque nearby said that they were government housing supplied for war veterans. I was impressed that this type of housing was found here, within a couple of hundred metres of  the Queen’s residence.

 

I walked around the outside of the Place – you had to pay tio go on a tour and I believe most of that was in the museum anyway.  There’s also an impressive park (with what looks like a volcano covered in grass, near the palace. Although, I think you could keep pretty fit in Edinburgh just jogging around the streets – the area around the old city and the Golden Mile is quite steep and there are a lot of stairs – no wonder they built catacombs beneath the city.

 

From here I wandered back to the hostel through the streets and laneways off the Golden Mile and collected my gear. I had booked a reservation on the train to London at 3pm when I arrived in Edinburgh – the nice gentleman at the station hadn’t charged me anything for it either. I had wanted to stay until later in the day but didn’t really want to arrive in London at 11pm or later – it was Friday so all the trains leaving between 4pm and 7pm were pretty heavily booked. The bonus was that for the first half of the journey tro Newwcastle I had a spare seat next to me for all my junk. And, not only did the express service to London have power, it also had free wi-fi. It gave me a good chance to catch up on my blogging.

There really are beaches in Scotland
Edinburgh from the castle
the dog graveyard
Inside the castle walls
Ready, aim, fire
The battlments
The castle’s chapel
Tartan for the ladies
The Royal Mile
Through the castle arch
The flats for veterans
Ediburgh cathedral
Meeting point for one of many ghost tours
Cathedral close-up

 

There can be only one – knights, Nessie and the Highlands

OK – enough with the Highlander references already. The fact is I had come to Inverness for two reasons – for the tacky tourist trap of the Loch Ness Monster (which was likely to be on par with the Santa village) and so I could visit the Scottish Highlands. And yes I know Inverness only barely qualifies as being in the Highlands. And those that have been to the Orkney Isles will likely scoff at my foray into the Highlands but I am traveling at a fairly fast pace and you’ve got to be impressed I actually went to Inverness.

 

My arrival in Inverness was less than spectacular. I had the booking for the hostel in my hand. Unfortunately it had neither the address nor phone number for the hostel on it. For some reason I had pictured Inverness as a little village on the edge of Loch Ness – probably because of the pic of the quaint little hostel I had booked into – the only one I could find. It had only dorm rooms, which I wasn’t really looking forward to after the early start and all the traveling I had done. It was 8pm when I arrived and I had been seeing deep snow in the dark out of the train window for the past couple of hours.

 

Inverness was granted city status in the 1990s so it’s not really a village. But of course at 8pm on a Wednesday night in winter, the tourist office is closed. I found a map dispenser, hoping the map would have accommodation listings. It ate two pound and didn’t give me anything resembling a map. I had no map, no internet to check the address and no phone number.  I noticed the train ticketing office was open and hoped someone in there would be helpful. The lady was very helpful – she gave me a map with the hostel marked on it, and directions – apparently I had a 20 minute walk ahead of me. The only problem was, when I arrived, it clearly wasn’t the right hostel. She had sent me to the town’s YHA which looked large enough to be a university accommodation building. Not the quaint cottage promised by the website. There was only one thing for it- for the first time on my trip, I phoned home to get someone to look at the website for me. [‘Michael Caine’ – Madness – The old school movie star agreed to record his voice for this track because his daughter was a huge Madness fan].

 

It was 7am and my knight in shining shorts was a bit thrown by my call but got up to help. It transpired that my chosen destination was about two and a half miles from the train station in a different direction to the one I had come. I trudged back to the station and on the way I decided to see if the hotel I had passed near the station had a room for a decent price. It was cold, it was late and I figured I was going to have to catch a cab out to the hostel and possibly back as well. I had only paid about $20 for the bed so in the scheme of things it wasn’t going to be a huge loss. It was one of the best decisions I have made on the trip.

 

The Highlands Hotel was your typical UK country hotel – large bathroom, comfy bed (king single or maybe even a small double) with a doona, and a telly. And they gave me a room for 30 pounds (which included a full Scottish brekkie). Hey even kept the restaurant open so I could have dinner. I had the Haddock in a Guinness batter with chips (with salt and vinegar) and peas. It was Scottish – I was too chicken (and too tired) to try the haggis. It was so good, I decided to try dessert, which was a delicious rhubarb crème brulee (I love rhubarb) with home made shortbread. mmm shortbread.

 

I watched some British telly, including FM, which I have heard good things about and which features stars from the IT crowd and Teachers. I can’t remember if it was BBC3 or ITV 2.The TV stations here really do seem to be pitched at particular markets, in a much more obvious way than in Australia (with the exception of SCTEN and perhaps ABC2) FM was great. If it’s not on Auntie’s radar, I will be lobbying. I charged the laptop but was far too tired to finish my blog so I curled up for a comfy night’s sleep.

 

I went down to the dining hall, which was a hall, with high ceilings and rows of tables. There was an extensive buffet brekkie, the kind you find in a Marriott or similar at home. While I was surveying the buffet for my sustenance, the staff delivered tea, condiments and toast (in a prope3r toast rack) to my table. I chose a hearty breakfast – egg, bacon, sausage, mushrooms and I had black pudding – essentially it tasted like I was eating pate, except with a sausage consistency. [‘Johnny the Horse’ – Madness – this is off their 2000 album, Wonderful – I was going to say recent but its almost nine years ago – where did that go?]

 

The helpful reception staff had provided me with some info on Loch Ness cruises but it had the info I was looking for – how to get to Drumnadrochit, centre of Loch Ness monster mania. There was a bus from the bus station a street over. I wandered over to the bus station. The bus, which only runs every two hours, was already 10 minutes late but luckily the driver was half way through a smoke and I managed to get a ticket and get on the bus. As time was limited, I had to make a choice – do I choose to go to Urqhart Castle which will no doubt have a gift shop and a tour and is actually on the shore of the Loch or do I go to Drumnadrochit, which is a town likely consumed by the industry of the monster. I chose the town because I thought it would be more interesting (and include more tacky enterprises). And I was right.

 

There seems to be a bit of competition for Nessie rights in Drumnadrochit. As you drive toward the town, about two or three kilometers before you reach it, you find the Clansman hotel with what looks like a really large commercial gift shop. They have another one in the town. The bus doesn’t stop here. In the town, there is the Loch Ness Discovery Centre, which you imagine to be some sort of government initiative that is free. It isn’t. This is the place that has the statue of Nessie in the water. But you have to pay to get in. I chose to visit the place off the highway that professed to be the original Loch Ness Monster exhibition. They also have a statue of the monster out the front. I must add that it is quite a walk from Drumnadrochit to the Loch so my photos (which don’t show the monster) were taken through the bus window. The exhibition was a bit of a ramshackle affair. It looked a bit like a construction site. Essentially you walked past some photo stands and into what looked like a very old theatre, the type with those wooden-framed leather seats padded with horsehair and upholstered using brass studs. Of course it was dark when I went in and the woman in the shop put on the filum. It featured a Scottish guy – I’m guessing a local from the production quality – in a kilt telling the tale of the Loch and the monster sightings. These included but were not limited to: two major scientific scans of the loch with sonar equipment (inconclusive); a raft of sightings by monks at the nearby Abbey (and an interview with one, presumably to add credence to the story as man of the cloth would never lie); the ‘hundreds’ of sightings by highlanders that were not documented with photos; and, my particular favourite, a Swedish crew who were going to bag and tag the animal or at least get a scraping of its DNA – they were hampered in their quest by a famous ‘white witch’ from the UK – who just looked like a fat guy who invented a scam so he wouldn’t ever have to get out of his bathrobe. The film sowed his arrival in a limo – for a minute I thought a real celebrity had joined the cause. Highlander searching for the monster perhaps? Don’t laugh. Outside this exhibition was another highlight – a miniature castle with a couple of what looked like highlanders flanking it – It was the Braveheart Castle – having a bet each way I suppose, like the winter adventure world at the Santa village. People went there for Santa and came here for Nessie. End of story. I wanted to ask how many people bothered with the Braveheart Castle but didn’t have the heart. No Highlander exhibit to be seen though. Don’t they know ‘there can be only one’?

 

The gift shop looked like it was under construction and I had already given them a fiver for the ‘exhibition’ so I thought I’d spend my readies at a different gift shop. There were quite a few to choose from. I found just the one – they were having a closing down sale – everything was half price. Liquidated souvenirs sounded just my style. I purchased my items – my niece will be pleased to read that despite being able to purchase Nessie souvenirs at just about every gift shop in Scotland, hers was purchased in a liquidation sale near the loch. I was intrigued about the closing sale – were there one too many entrepeneurs who thought they could make a quick buck in Drumnadrochit. I was informed by the very pleasant woman who owned the place that she and her husband were going into semi-retirement and giving up the shop but still operating the online side of the business. Online souvenirs sort of defeats the purpose. What’s next? Buy your holiday snaps online without ever leaving the couch?

 

I hurried back to the bus stop (if I missed this bus, there wouldn’t be another one for two hours, which would mean I would miss the direct train to Edinburgh, have to change at Perth and arrive in Edinburgh at 9pm). I met this woman who was quite chatty. She was originally from Essex and had moved to Aberdeen and loved it. Somehow she wound up in Drumnadrochit. She and her child have made friends there and so now it is home. In fact everyone I cam across here, apart from the woman at the exhibition, was from somewhere else. I guess in Scotland, it’s a loch change.

 

There’s actually quite a lot of other stuff you can do here – mainly in the summer. The loch is the first of a series – the Great Glen, which splits Scotland in two and separates the highlands from the lowlands. You can bushwalk from one side of Scotland to the other and apparently there are loads of Mountain Biking trails at varying levels of difficulty. Perhaps, one day when I am fitter (and have taken out some quite hefty medical and injury insurance).

 

I returned to the hotel and grabbed my bag. It was then that I noticed the protective satchel for the laptop was a little bit too warm. I opened it and the computer was positively scorching. I obviously hadn’t shut down properly and sitting in its protective cocoon, it had overheated. I tried turning it on – no luck. It didn’t smell like anything had fried. I surmised there were two outcomes – either it had shutdown because it had run out of battery or it had given up after it fried. Either way I wouldn’t know until I had access to power so I jumped on the train for Edinburgh, which traveled on the same track on which I arrived until we arrived in Perth. The countryside in the east was remarkably similar to the west until we came closer to the coast and I saw for the first time in a while, something that resembled a beach – there was sand instead of cliffs. We pulled into Edinburgh’s Waverly station just as the sun was beginning to set. I found my way through Edinburgh’s weave of tiny streets and laneways (and very steep hills) to the hostel, which as promised was directly below Edinburgh castle. Again there were friendly New Zealanders and an Aussie staffing the reception desk. They offered a free pub crawl that evening. ( I came downstairs later to check it out before I would agree to go. It was being run by an Australian girl and most of those going along were American college students. I decided against it in the end.) They also offered free wi-fi.

 

With my key in hand I rushed up the two different flights of stairs to my room on the top floor – it actually had a really cool attic window – and plugged the laptop in. It worked – hurrah. The acer really is tough. Unfortunately I had lost a train ride for the purpose of blogging and was way too exhausted to blog before bead. I headed just up the road and decided, after all the stodgy food I had been eating, to go for Thai.

 

It turned out to be an excellent choice. The Thai Orchid (which included fresh orchids on the table and also one on the tray with the bill) produced some of the best Thai have ever eaten (and that includes the Erindale Thai place and the one that was in Kiama’s main street). The starter was four king prawns stuffed with season prawn meat and pork, covered in an omelet web and served with a tamarind sauce. Then (predictably) I had the Massaman curry – there was no beef so I ordered the chicken. It was glorious. I might point out that most of my restaurant meals have been accompanied by a glass of wine (or in some recent cases a Guinness. I haven’t mentioned the wines because none has stood out in comparison to Australian wines. I’m sure if I went for the top of the range wines, they might but at a low to mid-range level, they just don’t compare to Australian wines. I’m no expert but I don’t think I’ll be ordering European cleanskins any time soon.

 

During dinner I chatted with a Dutch couple who had been to both Australia and New Zealand. They were disappointed I wasn’t going to Holland. After dinner it was time for some telly (there was one in my room) and a big sleep.

The streets of Inverness
Quaint B&Bs everywhere
Loch Ness
Home of Nessie
Snow in the Highlands
On the way south to Edinburgh

Life in a northern town – four hours in Glasgow

When I planned my journey, I didn’t think much about Glasgow – it was a pit stop on my journey between Belfast and almost any other destination I chose in Scotland. My mission, from the limited investigations I had done in the guide books for my short stopover, was to find the Wee Curry Shop and have a madras or similar. I had imagined Glasgow to be a northern industrial town, somewhere where everyone spoke in a thick Scottish accent and looked like they carried the weight of the world on their shoulders.

 

While Glasgow obviously carries the heritage of an industrial city, and I certainly wouldn’t describe it as a contender for a tidy towns competition, there is evidence everywhere of a vibrant arts community. And Glasgow is apparently the home of Scottish fashion. Which may explain why this was the first place on my journey where I heard someone comment on the poor fashion sense of my particular brand of backpacker chic. So my black, baggy army pants are not even chic enough for grunge but they are really comfy and don’t soak up the rain (which was forecast for Glasgow) and my puffy jacket was a little bit of overkill (although it was cold ad it was my only waterproof jacket – lesson learnt there). They seemed to take the most exception to my two bag arrangement – my small tardis handbag that has about 50 pockets and lets me keep everything I really need in an easily accessible position and my backpack which, among other things, contained the acer. I wasn’t leaving that as left luggage! [‘Pride – in the name of love’ – fun Tracy fact – this was a favourite of mine in my religious youth group days]

 

Speaking of the tardis – I found it – right in the middle of Glasgow. There was a blue police box in the middle of the main arcade through the centre of town. I am presuming it is an homage to the Doctor, as played by David Tennant, himself a Glaswegian. I never understood why they made him talk like an Englishman. I for one, would have been even more excited to watch Dr Who if he had’ve used his own accent. After all, it’s not just Sean Connery’s looks that have kept the interest of women for all these years. [‘I’m gonna be (500 Miles)’ – The Proclaimers – I thought some Scottish 80s pop was appropriate. I actually hated this song at the time but I saw The Proclaimers live a few years ago and really enjoyed it – this is probably their worst song (but the only one I have on my MP3 player)]

 

In case you wondered whether Glasgow would be a good place to get an Argyle Diamond, the answer on convenience is yes. As I’m not really ever in the market for jewellery that cost more than my car, I can’t really comment on price. So if you’re in the market for an authentic engagement ring (or if you’ve got loads to splash around, a spectacular diamond choker), Argyle Arcade is the place. There is an endless array of jewellery stores selling diamonds. In fact there is nothing but jewellery stores in the arcade and they all seemed to sell the same style of jewellery I find so boring in the stores at home. Until I got to the end of the arcade where there were a couple of original designers doing some awesome things with the diamonds. Of course diamonds and good design came at a price. Always the way with me – extremes – I’m either happy with the bargain basement option or I want the really stylish one that costs more than I’ll ever afford. What happened to the theory of manufacturing making good design available to the masses? Probably doesn’t apply to diamonds right?

 

From Argyle Arcade, I wandered up to the street where the Wee Curry Shop was supposed to be. When I got there, it seemed more like a residential street but I wandered along it anyway, checking out the buildings. At the end of the street, I found the tenement house. It was closed for renovations but that was OK – I hadn’t really been looking for it anyway. I walked back towards town on the lower street, which had a number of arty stores and premises of theatre groups and the like. It was clear I was in the vicinity of the School of Art. [‘Life in a Northern Town’ – Academy Dream – I know it’s about the north of England but it seemed appropriate for Glasgow]

 

As I headed toward the city, I tossed up the idea of checking out the other end of the street where the Wee Curry Shop was supposed to be found. By now, at almost 3pm, it was going to be far too late for a curry – the shop only did lunch from 12-2. Then I was drawn by perhaps the biggest urban renewal project I had seen so far. There were a whole lot of what I imagine were 60s built council flats (mainly because I have watched too much of The Bill over the years). They were covered in scaffolding and under redevelopment. I had seen plenty of really old buildings being restored but this was the first project like this, on this scale I had seen – a sign of the level of urban renewal occurring in Glasgow. [‘Take on Me’ – Aha –  By the time A-Ha hit the airwaves in the late 80s, I had moved back in time to discover 70s punk and Jamaican ska but I do remember the video for this song was pretty cool and some years later Reel Big Fish did quite a good cover of it.]

 

It’s funny how some places remind you of people but it wasn’t something I expected to happen on the other side of the world. Some years ago, someone I knew for a short period of time spent a year overseas, mostly living in Glasgow, and I had received occasional updates of his life there. At the time he left a big impression on me but I hadn’t thought about him in a very long time. Wandering around Glasgow, I found myself thinking of his life there, and those tales from Glasgow. [‘The Prince’ – Madness – I am so excited about seeing Madness as a post – birthday present. I had loved ‘House of Fun’ and then an English guy at school played more of their stuff for me. That was it – I was in love (with the band. Everybody was in love with the English guy. He wore bleach spotted jeans and rollers. And he was way too cool to be interested in me. . In fact my introduction to another ska band, The Specials, came from another guy who dressed like that. He made tapes for me. Hands up those that remember tapes.)

 

After taking some snaps of the urban renewal project, I rounded the corner into Buccleuch Street and there it was – The Wee Curry Shop. And it was tiny but a lot more upmarket looking than I was expecting. So I had achieved half my objective. I had found it. Unfortunately I didn’t get to meat at it – it was time to head back to the station for my trip north the Inverness to make like Christopher Lambert – I am Connor MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. . I was born in 1518 in the village of Glenfinnan on the shores of Loch Shiel. And I am immortal. [I was looking for an appropriate Queen track but sadly, couldn’t find one. This movie still has the best scene changes I have ever seen.]

Thw Wee Curry Shop
moss grows on everything
park- Glaswegian style
a Glasgow street
high rise flats
building-lead recovery
Tardis

The road to Glasgow

 

The road to Glasgow involved a lot more steps than most of my journeys. I arose before dawn and walked the two blocks to Belfast’s bus station. The place was deserted but some fellow passengers sorted me on the procedure with tickets for the bus to the port. There was a guy who loked like he was moving his goods and chattels to Arberdeen and a mother and daughter off tol Glasgow Aert School for the daughtrer’s interview. When we arrived at the port I got on a ferry to cross the Irish Sea. On this ferry you could check your bags. I was a bit concerned because I hadn’t done the spare undies thing but I decided to take a risk. I figured when there is only one ferry it was pretty hard for it to go the wrong way.

 

It was a fairly quick trip – about two hours and for most of the time you could see land somewhere. Like the other ferries, this one had a private truck driver’s lounge like the ones you find in the service stations along the Hume. And the Italians and Spaniards could learn something from the Scotts about convenience. When you walk off the ferry, it is less than 100 metres to the train station. And my bag made it with me. It was quite a spectacular arrival into Stranraer Harbour actually – snow had fallen the during the night and the hillsides were blanketed in white. It was the first snow I had seen since Switzerland nearly two weeks ago.

 

With my Britrail pass validated I hopped on the train to discover that (as with the Irish trains) there was no power outlet. It’s not helping with the blogging. From there I headed through the snow covered lowlands of Scotland, past quite a lot of sheep – the English woolly type with the black faces. (I’m a bovine expert not a sheep expert.) There were plenty of stops along the way. Like Ireland, Scotland seems to have a lot of small villages and many have rail stations like those in the bush in Australia, sometimes just a platform with no other buildings around it. I changed at Ayr for the remainder of the two-hour journey to Glasgow, pulling in just after midday.

Leaving Ayr
Belfast left in my wake
across the Irish Sea
arriving in Scotland