Day 37: Edinburgh Castle

Chicago is as flat as a pancake. If it weren't for potholes our 4 wheel drive cars would have nothing to do. I don't know why we have to know how to park on a hill when we don't have any. 

So when I stepped out of the Edinburgh Waverly train station today, I didn't think anything about the policeman who told me to walk up through a door way that said "Fleshmarket Close"

I thought it was a cute sign meaning something was closed. Instead it was a long staircase that connected Market Street to Cockburn street. As much as it hurt to go climbing up the close(Scottish for alley), it was totally worth it because I ended up in Old Town. 

It was full of personality, people and character. Maybe it was because the sidewalks were crowded with outdoor cafés and people strolling about with random cars flying bye on the downward slope that just made the scene dynamic and fun.

So after I caught my breath, I walked down. The street just curved down and met up with Market street again. I thought there would be a lot of people going to visit the castle but I didn't see a lot of people. But it didn't faze me because I saw the street had a 45degree incline! 

After I thought I would pass out from the western sun shining right into my eyes and my knees would crumble, I ended up on The Royal Mile which led straight into the castle.

The changing of the guards was occurring just as I walked up and everyone was bunched up, sadly, I came in just as they were finishing up.

Maybe it was because the climb had me hot and sweaty but the minute I walked through the castle portcullis, I was immediately enamored by Edinburgh Castle.

I immediately climbed up on the wall and looked over the turret and was awed by the sight of Edinburgh laid out before me. The castle had the perfect vantage point. I was also lucky because normally there is a fog that can cover the city, today there was nothing but a clear view.

I could see all the way to the Firth of Forth, an estuary that flows out to the North Sea. Remember the North Sea? I stood at Ostend by the North Sea and now I was in Edinburgh close to the North Sea again.

That was the North view and it was gorgeous, then just as I was enjoying the sun and the view, a strong breeze took my breath away with its strong northern chill. 

Edinburgh Castle had a lot of things to see, National War Museum, The Royal Scots Regimental Museum even a Dog's Cemetery where the beloved dogs of the officers serving in the castle were buried.

St. Margaret's Chapel was so small, I wondered if only the royalty was allowed. 

They did an excellent job on setting up the exhibition for the Honours of Scotland: The Scottish Crown Jewels. The story of how it was hidden from the English, then stolen by them then recaptured back had me thinking why they hadn't made a movie yet? I'll have to find out.

But what proved to be really touching was the Scottish National War Museum. I had gotten the audio guide so I listened intently when it reminded me that this was a memorial, something to be treated with the respect and solemnity for those who gave their life in service for Scotland, so no pictures!

I walked in and not only were certain wars engraved on the walls, but each wall/war had a big red book where the names of the fallen had been written.

I don't like war, it is about death, sacrifice and loss. No one ever really wins a war. But you cannot detract from the people who sacrificed themselves so others may live lives of peace. It was small, in comparison to many other memorials, but it was moving nonetheless.

I could have stayed there all afternoon long, if only I had a place I could sit down and look at the city below me with out being mercilessly dangled from the end of a cannon. 

But I went to everything I could go to with the exception of the Prisons. It was an interesting exhibit, from what I saw but I could not go into the belly of the castle for the rocks walls were obviously original, but I was really disturbed by the smell. I was the same way when I went down to David's Tower, which was actually the bottom part of the Tower and there was a smell that I didn't like. 

I walked on The Royal Mile thinking it might be easier to find my way back to the train station. At this point I have no battery left in my phone and so I didn't used the GPS. 

I knew I hadn't come up on The Royal Mile, so I found another one of those tight alleys, Anchor Close and walked down.

Then finding myself back on Cockburn street, I wandered into a store, walked through it and found myself on another street. I had inadvertently walked out into North Bridge and had to find my way down to the train station. I found a set of stairs that said it would lead down to Market Streets so I walked down. I was fascinated by the different color marble steps.

It was cool until I got to the part where someone had set up a sleeping bag, one person still sleeping in it, and the smell of pee and unwashed body made me walk a bit faster.

Then I found my way back to Glasgow. Which is smaller than Edinburgh but since all I did was manage to not get lost in the central district, I can't really see too much about it except that a friend pointed out that this square doubled as Philadelphia in the movie World War Z.

I walked down Buchanan street where it's closed off from vehicular traffic and seemed dedicated to shopping and happy hour. 

All in all a lovely day spent under blue, crisp, clear skies. 

Day 36: The Castle and the Unicorn

I took the high road and I reached Scotland before you! Where the highland air did wonders for my sleep and my cough. I didn't remember any coughing fit last night and I was ecstatic to realize I slept over 8 hours. Considering I was averaging anywhere from 4 to 6 hours while I have been going in Europe, 8 hours of straight sleeping is a miracle.

As I read about the heatwave hitting Paris and London, I'm glad I'm in Scotland where the temperature hovers in the mid 60s. It's wonderful to feel the clean air of the highlands.

It is green, bright green fields, dark green leafy trees and blooming bright flowers! I can see how people fall in love with Scotland. 

After my relentless and intense sightseeing in Europe, I've taken the time to take a deep breath and just slow it down a bit, after all in just 7 days I'll be back in Chicago.

Today was Stirling Castle at Stirling, Scotland. The drive through the Scottish country roads was thrilling and frightening. Thrilling because I loved the dips, the curves and the excitement of a road new to me. Frightening because it's the UK where people drive on the other side of the road and I had to keep from screaming every time another car came towards me from the other direction. I'm so thankful my friend Laura did the driving, I would have been a wreck constantly driving on the wrong side.

Well before we arrived in Stirling, I could already see the castle. It sits on a large rock that stands in the valley like a plateau. The castle was around before Columbus was even born. That it is still standing is amazing. Every castle I visit, I learn something new and I like to imagine what it might have been to live back then. 

Of course it would probably be more as a stable boy or a kitchen girl, which I can believe had to be a harsh and short life. But as is in all history, the rich and the powerful live well.

Most of the rooms were tall large rooms with echoing steps. Then I entered the Queen's rooms which was covered by tapestry and suddenly the room was hushed and a felt a little cozier. I've noticed that the beds are rather small and but the canopy made it very cozy and inviting. 

In seeing the large fireplaces in each room, I realize how cold winters must have been for them so I can see where a canopy bed was a necessity. 

Having seen Versailles last week, I couldn't help but make comparisons. The French were much richer, considering the size of the palace and the amount of gold and crystals expended on the place. But there was a friendlier, more approachable ambience to Stirling Castle. I could almost imagine the citizens crossing the inner close towards the kitchens and the grand hall.

What I really like about Stirling Castle was that in the vaults, they converted them to interactive rooms for the children. There was a music room for  children to play with different instruments, a place where they could discover the colors of the times as well. My favorite was the room where they had customs for kids to try on to see what they would look like in the past, too bad they didn't have any for adults.

The view was spectacular, showing the gardens, the town of Stirling and the Old Town Cemetery. I'm constantly fascinated by the cannons that surrounded the castle walls. I don't know why, but the image of them standing at attention on the wall seems so poignant, now that the wars the cannons served are over. 

The care that shows on the castle and its grounds are obvious in the way the grounds are meticulously kept. Today the smell of fresh cut grass permeated the air and the moisture in the air combined to an almost magical air around the castle. 

The flowers on the grounds were obviously well tended and expressed that care with their beautiful blooms.

I learned that the unicorn is one of the symbols of the Scots, a magical creature from myth and legend. One of my favorite childhood books was Peter Beagle's "The Last Unicorn". How could I resist a country that could hold the unicorn in such high regard? 

Day 35: Travel Day

I bid good bye to Paris today and as I made my last walk down Boulevard St. Michel, I walked slower than my normal pace, as if I were dragging my feet. Or it could have been because I had acquired a few items in Paris that made my backpack heavier. But I did enjoy my time there, I enjoyed the sights, the sounds, although I could have done without the constant pee smell. 

The Chunnel had been shut down yesterday because of a workers strike, but I hoped it would be ok today.

I got to Gare Nord on time but the "Londres Hall" where you have to go to take the Eurostar to go to London was packed! The people who were delayed from yesterday also can on the train today. Because there was so many people, the line to check in was stretching to down the up escalator and down to the main floor. There was one man only who was sort of the information officer and when people would ask him if this was the line for the 910a train, he would say yes, then assure the people that they just stand there and not have to walk to the end of the line.

I noticed some people flinching at that, but I seem to have absorbed his Gallic shrug because I wasn't the least bit annoyed by it as I might have been previously. I still didn't like the pushing and the shoving, the jumping in line but I mentally shrug.

The Eurostar was crowded but I got lucky and had a nice solo seat by the window. Why only the business class got free wifi, I don't know. But I always thought 1st class trumped business class. But as I've learned in these travels, this is Europe.

I fell asleep, just exhausted, I drooled, odd that I'm doing that now. Perhaps the length of this holiday has taken a greater toll on me than I realize. Between the heat, not only of the weather but when you cram a lot of people into a small space, it's like a convection oven, the heat goes round and round.

I fell asleep when we were entering the Chunnel, so I couldn't tell you how long it was, I don't remember my ears popping as it did when I road the bullet trains in China when they hit a tunnel. But before I knew it, we were pulling into St Pancras station in London.

St Pancras had an area showing off the departure schedule to the rest of the UK. It was cool, giant wall and a bunch of people looking up. 

I stood in line to get  ticket for one station. It was literally the next station from St Pancras. I could have walked to Euston station according to my GPS on my phone. But it was very hot and a heavy pack on my back wasn't helpful. So I found Kings Cross and stood in line to buy a ticket for the underground. Instead I bought the wrong kind of ticket, I bought a bus & tram card. 

So I had to go stand in line at the ticket office which only had two people working for a line of at least 30 people. But I had to change my ticket, and I also saved myself 20 pence. 

I eventually got on the right train, but not before my ankle decided it didn't like me anymore, it actually crumpled as I was placing weight on it while I was walking down the stairs to Euston station.

So with ankle throbbing, throat drying up. I ended in Euston station where everyone looks like they are all waiting for a train.

Another waiting game. Today was nothing but hurry up and wait. I found a seat to save my seat, but when an elderly woman came by and stood before me, I have up my seat to here.

Then the notice for the platform information was unbelievably short. Despite the PA having said over & over, do not run for the platforms at Euston Station, people run.

Then the train car I was in was barely blowing cold air on us. So for 5hours I sat uncomfortably in a warm coach to Glasgow.

It too was packed. I didn't know Scotland was such a tourist haven. But I made it, I always do and now I'm so tired my eyes are crossing as I type this on my iPhone.

So as try as I might, this is actually a short post.

Day 34: Pensive in Paris

I don't know if it is the realization that my grand adventure is coming to a close, or if 5 days living in Paris has lulled me into thinking I live here, but I'm tired of museums, lines and taking pictures.

I slowly woke, took my time making breakfast, packed my back pack in preparation for leaving tomorrow. As uncomfortable as an apartment can be without AC, a musty and dusty loft bedroom, and a tiny shower that has a temperamental hot water knob, this place was home.

I had planned to visit the Musee D'Orsay but when I got there, two long lines had already formed and in the hot sun of noon, I just did not have the patience to wait. I returned to the metro and went to the Eiffel Tower. It was a glorious day, but again, I didn't not want to wait.

Instead, I went to the river Seine to catch a boat ride. It was just an hour long but why not? I also had the chance to try a "French Donut" looks suspiciously like a cronut but I added powdered sugar. How apropos, on the Seine in Paris, the Eiffel Tower at my back and eating a French donut.

I was feeling like a native.

The boat took us out to see several interesting points along the way. Unfortunately, I like to sit on the top, out in the elements, which meant no audio narration.

I saw the Place de la Concorde, the bridge with the locks(seems like all the bridges had locks), Notre Dame looked magnificent, and the Eiffel Tower looked commanding. It was a nice lazy pace and I enjoyed the breeze and the sun(now I realize I could be fatigued by the bit of sun bathing I did).

Afterwards, I walked along the Seine and came upon this copy of the flame that Lady Liberty holds in New York Harbor. It also stands, as I heard on my audio guide on the Big Bus, over the spot where Princess Diana died in the car crash.

As I walked along the Seine, I saw some great activities where I didn't see a lot of tourists. But they looked very fun.

I had seen a nice place from the boat, I found it and sat down in what looked like a very comfortable chair. Sadly it was too comfortable and the staff didn't seem to care to get me to buy anything. So I left before I really fell asleep.

I walked from the Eiffel Tower and took the metro at the Musee D'Orsay station. Getting off at the St Michel-Notre Dame station and had a Croque Madame,  which is just a Croque Monsieur with a fried egg. It was huge but I got to sit at a cafe and just chill. I had been eyeing Le Lutèce since I walk pass it every time I have to go to the metro. Finally got to sit down in it.

After I ate, I decided that I would go find a salons and get my hair cut. After all, I had seen several as I wandered around previously, but like all things. You see them when you don't want them, then when you want them, you can't find it!

I walked around die a solid hour, taking the odd turns into the smaller streets because if they are in the main streets, they would be expensive. When I finally found one, I just walked in, literally almost crawling because I was so overheated by my walking and horribly dehydrated.

So I didn't ask how much, I just said "cut". But no one spoke English! The owner was sweet, he said "You are in France." He said it warmly, and when I used google translate to tell them just how I wanted my hair cut, he read it and said "Bravo!"

I don't go to salons in Chicago, because when I have, I'm made to feel that I don't belong. I'm very nonchalant about my appearance, as long as my clothes are clean, what else matters? But there is a definite "mean girls" vibe at some salons, so I don't go.

But over 6,000 miles away, in a country who's language I don't speak, in a city with a reputation for arrogance, I was warmly greeted and treated like a princess! I have never enjoyed a shampoo so much!

I walked out feeling light and carefree, my hair wasn't that long, but it felt like a weight was taken from me.

It was my last full day in Paris so I was little bit down. Before I came, I had predicted that I might have a hard time leaving Spain, it's by the Mediterranean, it's hot, and my ancestors came from there. But as easier as it was for me to speak the language, I like Barcelona but Madrid left a bad taste.

But I had heard the reputation of Parisiens to be arrogant and unkind to foreigners especially Americans. But it wasn't as bad as everyone said. Maybe I'm just so dense I don't get it when people are rude to me. But the laundry lady was the only one who was cranky to me. Everyone else who I've talked to have been very nice, friendly and helpful. 

I did not expect it because I just did all the touristy things and Paris is a place best enjoyed with people. The cafes are much more fun with others, the exploring of the different neighborhoods, is best when you have someone to talk to.

Paris is definitely for lovers so I didn't do those things, didn't have the lovely dinners nor did I even see the Moulin Rouge, I really didn't want any to be out by myself after dark.

But a part of me also feels like, it's ok, because I will be back. Paris wasn't sizzling even though it is summer, but it's been beautiful weather, bright blue skies, not a cloud in the sky. I don't have an AC in my apartment but then I sleep with the window open and enjoy the night air. 

I'm glad to have the opportunity to visit Paris in the summer.

Day 33: Lazy Monday

I’ve been traveling in Europe for 33 days, it doesn’t feel like it. Each and every mile I’ve walked, waited and been whisked away all fall out of my mind. All I’m left with is the small moments of discovery in my constant movement. I tried to sit at a café on Saturday, I ordered a croque monsieur, a really wonderful take on a ham and cheese sandwich and a café au lait as well as sparkling water. Yet I drank too fast, sipped too easy and scarfed the sandwich. I couldn’t just slow down.

Rather than sit and spend time sitting with a book or looking at the world past by, I couldn’t wait to get up and get moving. I personally think it’s a curse for my rabid American ethic of work. I am used to multi-tasking so when I do just one thing, it feels like I'm being unproductive and wasting time.

How did I get so far away from simply stopping and smelling the roses? Taking that deep breath and just stopping? Do one thing but have it go perfectly rather than have a scatter shot method where if 4 out of 6 thing work out, then it’s a good day.

The Cough is back so again I only had 4hours at the most, of sleep. I had to run down the ladder twice in the middle of the night, I keep the windows open to get air into the bedroom, which is amazing, but the courtyard carries noises and I can imagine how my barking must have sounded like a poor wounded dog.

But my mind woke up at 7am, I think it’s a genetic flaw in my brain. Why can’t it just shut down for 8 hours? No, it has to wake up at 7am. As if despite the ear plugs, I’m instinctively aware that the world is awake and I’m missing something.

Many museums are closed on Mondays so I decided to take care of a few chores. I went to find a laundrymat, my host had a posting on the wall telling me to go to Marche St. Germain where there are many machines. I asked the landlord who is here every morning, unfortunately she doesn’t speak English. But I did get that all I had to do was walk down St. Germain and I wouldn’t miss it.

I missed the machines if they had any. I never saw it, what I did see was a dry cleaners and for  €20 they would clean my clothes and get it back to me at 5pm. The proprietress said she didn’t speak English, I don’t believe her. I think she was just cranky because I had never been in her establishment before. She had a very thin veneer of tolerance, as if she were doing me a favor.

That’s the Paris I had heard so much about. But not a universal occurrence in my experience. So I shrugged it off. I was ready to find a café, I was going to sit in the morning sun and watch the world walk by. But for what ever reason, I just didn’t find any of the cafés appealing. Instead I went grocery shopping and made myself delicious fried eggs for breakfast. Actually, it was more like lunch since it was closer to 11am at that  point.

Then I fell asleep, took a nap in the middle of the day. THAT’S what a vacation is, the freedom to just drop off to sleep whenever you want to. But I set my phone timer for 25mins, I wanted it to be a nap. But when it set off, I hit the timer again for another 25mins. When I turned my head to reach for my phone, I realized I had a nice little bit of drool on my face. It felt good, it meant, I had a good drooling nap.

But after about 5 minutes, I talked myself into getting up and going somewhere. The George Pompidou Museum was only 7 mins away on the metro, although it took me more like 15mins running around in the Halles forum(an underground mall), which, surprise surprise, was under renovation so I felt like a rat in an obstacle course.

Eventually, I got out to street level, checked my GPS and after some double tracking, I got going to the Pompidou Center. Why my GPS decided that my destination was the back of the center and not the front entrance, I don’t know. So I had an extra walk around the building, which was the size of a city block, before I finally found the front entrance.

I get that everything has to be justified with some rationale, but why must EVERYTHING be justified by retail sales? The center had several things going on at once. On one outside section on the 1st floor(all ground floors are 0, which is logical, but confuses me all the time), I saw a long line of people. There was also a section that was like a kid’s activity center.

But the museum was on the 5th floor, and even though you are inside, once you present your entrance tickets, you have to go to the outside escalators that look an awful like the play center that we used to have for our pet gerbils. Plus since it was all see through plastic, it was like the inside of a microwave, only I’m the entrée.

Eventually, I got to the 5th floor and when I entered I realized that this was a showcase for modern art. I am not a big fan of modern art. But I gave it a go, I saw names I didn’t recognize and I saw things that were being passed as art when if I were presented them, I would violently react. Such as the can of Merde, 30g of an artist’s shit. Wow, he must have been a really good talker. I like my fecal matter, out and away from me, I wouldn’t be canning them and selling it for profit, let alone art. Was this an instance of someone actually shitting gold?

I continued to explore the museum, one because it was beautifully air conditioned and two, I was there, what else was I going to do? But as I kept walking I started noticing some familiar names and it wasn’t long before I became enthralled.

The Pompidou give out free wi-fi. The place was wonderfully cool. There were no ropes indicating how close or how far(depending on your perspective) you could stand.

I turned a corner and there was a George Brecht installation. I could have reached out and touched it. I didn’t because I have respect for an artist’s work. But based on the number of employees constantly watching, I’m guessing there are people who love to reach out and touch.

There was several Picassos including another harlequin painting, I saw one at the Albertina in Vienna, or maybe the Prado, I’m not sure. But I learned that he had made several in his earlier days and had his friends dress in his harlequin costume and paint them.

I entered a gallery and there was a Jackson Pollock right in front of me.

I don’t remember ever seeing on of his paintings personally and now there were several.

There were Magrittes, Matisses and a Dali. We could take pictures and I took selfies with them, I was that close!

I was overjoyed. I’m not an expert in any of the arts, I just know what I like and what I don’t like and I enjoy my own opinion. Once I hear some tidbit of fact, I can absolutely play pretentious snob, but why bother?

I spent more time at the Pompidou than I had expected. Before I knew it, I had spent my afternoon there. Then I calmly walked out and made my way back by retracing my steps. I put away my gps and just paid attention to the signs.

Then I put myself to the test, I went to look for the laundry place without my gps on the phone. I just walked out and headed in the general direction. Which is a new skill I seem to have attained.

Before long, I found the place, picked up my laundry and headed home. My plans were to make an early dinner(big giant salad) and head out to catch an evening ride on the Seine. Once I got inside, I dropped trou and ate dinner. I had to force myself to leave the apartment again to see if I could get a medical refill on a prescription medication. But then I realized that in 9 days, I would be home anyways, so I aborted the attempt.

Instead I wandered around and finally got the chance to walk into a Gilbert Joseph. Just to clarify, I didn’t expect to come to Paris and fall in love with two men, Paul and Gilbert Joseph.

Paul is a chain patisserie and Gilbert Joseph is the Borders of Paris, except, they are still open. I love pens, art supplies, books and blank books. I have a weakness for soft leather goods and everything I had been looking for, the had, if I had only known.

I wandered in and let myself browse delighted in being in a bookstore, I’ve missed Borders and the Barnes & Noble is close to a 20minute drive from my home. I loved looking at the books and reading their French translations. Most of the titles were switched over to French, some weren’t but the full text was in French, which didn’t really help me, but it was nice to be standing in a bookstore.

So basically that was my lazy Monday, strolling around randomly and letting myself just slow down. I bought myself not one but two fedora style hats, my little cap with the pins was in the wash(which ended up the way most of my clean laundry end up, still in the bag).

Tomorrow the Musee D’Orsay is open as is the Rodin Museum, I’m still intent on riding the Seine and so we’ll see. Maybe, I’ll actually sleep tonight.