Okay, wow, I was definitely supposed to write this blog like, a week ago… but honestly? I’ve been enjoying a lazy week. That being said, I’ve gotta get my butt in gear, both on this blog and with my schoolwork in general. So, here we go–the story of my trip to Edinburgh. It began on Thursday, when I went over to Anglia Ruskin to sign in with the exchange program people (we’re supposed to do this every week, so I had to do it before I left for the weekend). So I walked over to Anglia two hours before my train was supposed to leave. That might seem like overkill on the time thing, but I have this chronic need to be early, like, all the time, and this turned out to be a really fantastic idea on my part. You see, I know how to get to the train station from our house, but I wasn’t quite sure how to get there from the university. I remembered Matt telling me that if you walked down Mill Road, you’d hit the train station, so I kinda took a chance and rambled down Mill Road. I was getting worried, because I’d been walking for a while and hadn’t found the station road yet… and then I hit the bridge. Cool bridge, it’s been painted with bright colors. I originally thought this bridge was over the Cam, because that’s what most bridges are for here. This one was over the train tracks, however, and I wasn’t sure where the station was. I took a chance and went left… this was not the right direction. I ended up following the tracks for, I don’t know, twenty minutes or so, in the wrong direction. By the time I decided to turn around, it was 3:20 and my train was supposed to leave at 4. So I had to turn around and retrace my steps, back to the bridge, and follow the tracks in the opposite direction. Luckily, the station was only about five minutes in that direction, so I arrived in time to catch the train from Cambridge to Peterborough. I then caught a train from Peterborough to Edinburgh Waverly–this was a 4 hour ride. Fortunately, I met a really cool lady from York who was going back home after dropping her mother off in Cambridge. About half way to Edinburgh, a university student named Oliver sat by us and we had a wonderful conversation on the way up to Waverly. It certainly made the time pass quickly, and I got to Edinburgh by 9:30pm. I made my way to my hostel fairly easily, although I did notice immediately that the city had many more hills than Cambridge does. I went to sleep, exhausted from travelling (although I wonder why that happens… I literally sat on a train for five hours, how is this exhausting?) and planned to wake up fairly early for my first full day in Scotland.

I woke up around 8:30 (voluntarily. Weird, right?) and looked out the window. The first thing I saw, besides the gray, cloudy sky, was the medieval-looking cityscape that rose up from the cobblestone streets as naturally as trees from grass. Despite the fact that it looked like it was about to downpour any second, I was excited to get out there and experience Scotland. So I got dressed (warmly, including a sweatshirt, scarf, and gloves) and headed out. I first wanted to get a feel for the city, so I walked down the street to Princes Street Park. Not gonna lie, walking through the park was amazing on its own. Something about the air, about the atmosphere, about the way the entire area looked–it was almost mystical. That also could have been the mist and the clouds. Walking through the park led me to the Scottish National Gallery. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t open until 10am, and it wasn’t even 9, so I decided to walk down Princes Street toward Calton Hill.

On my way to Calton Hill, I was sidetracked by a cemetery. Now, I know this is kinda weird, but I seriously love cemeteries, especially old ones. There’s something peaceful and beautiful about them, something old and intangible that we, as living people, can only graze the surface of. There’s an atmosphere, an ambiance, that could be creepy but somehow just manages to stay this side of tranquil. It was also really cool that I stumbled upon David Hume’s tomb in that particular cemetery. As I went across the street to Calton Hill, I figured out why. Calton Hill, as a public park, was a brainchild of Hume, and there is now a path dubbed ‘Hume’s Walk’ within the park. It’s quite a lovely walk, if I do say so myself. While I was walking up the path, it did finally start to rain. It didn’t really matter, because I don’t really mind the rain as long as it’s not too cold, and it was mostly just windy on top of the hill. I also found a really cool monument, set up to look like Greek pillars, to commemorate Scottish soldiers and sailors from the Napoleonic Wars. I found this specific monument so impressive because it could be seen from most places in the city, plus there’s always something awesome about Greek pillars. The hill also had a great view of Arthur’s Seat, which was where I headed next.

I walked down the hill and across the North Bridge, coincidentally not over a river, but over the train tracks. I found the High Street, and walked down it toward Holyrood Palace. On the way, I stopped in quite a few shops that generally specialized in tartan cloth and information on the Scottish clans. There was one shop that I walked into, run by Scottish clan members, that sold real Scottish broadswords and attempted to get me to buy one. I seriously considered getting one for my brother but… well… somehow I think that might end up poorly for most people involved. I was, however, on the lookout for Buchanan tartan cloth. I didn’t find any I liked in that particular store, however, so I continued on to the palace.

The palace was gorgeous from the outside, but I didn’t get in. It cost 11 pounds, and I was trying to see how cheap I could be on a weekend trip (I kept myself to 40 pounds, woohoo!), so I didn’t go inside. I did walk around the outside park and take a few pictures before heading over to Holyrood Park, where Arthur’s Seat was. I then climbed up to a crumbling abbey wall first. It had a great view of both the palace and a small pond. I then started up the steeper part, all the while thanking my family for their hiking tendencies, because that was the only way I made it up that mountain. About halfway up, on a sort of resting point, I stopped to take in the view and it began raining a bit more earnestly, as well as getting windier and windier. I was feeling very dramatic, especially because Merida, the newest Disney princess, is Scottish and redheaded. When I got to the top, I even took a few pictures of myself being ‘Brave-like’ from the movie.

Getting down from Arthur’s Seat was actually much more difficult than getting up. This was mostly my

I was impressed with myself.

own fault, however, because I probably took the absolute worst path back down the mountain possible. After I managed each small, steep, rocky, slippery part, I turned around and took a picture of what I’d just attempted and successfully gotten down, mostly because I was impressed with myself for not dying. I did find, however, many very cool paths that looked incredibly not-well-traveled and secret, thistle patches that wound up and around the dirt paths not quite trodden to the mud due to a lack of foot traffic, and slick rocks worn smooth not by footfalls, but by rainfalls. It was a very long hike, however, and instead of climbing the crags, I chose to walk along the bottom of the crags. I didn’t realize it at the time of this decision, but this might not have been the smartest thing. About halfway down the trail, I noticed all of the signs saying ‘Beware! Falling rocks!’ and it even got to the point where the path was blocked by metal gates around what looked like recent rock slides. I did make it out of my extended hike alive, though, so that’s good.

I was getting pretty exhausted at this point, but I walked back up Cowgate and stumbled upon the Museum. When I walked into the big gallery, footsore and tired, I nearly started crying because the place looked so beautiful. It just so happened that the moment I stepped inside, after climbing a freaking mountain in the rain, that the sun made a glorious appearance. It shone through the ceiling of windows and into the white room like a promise from heaven. There was a lighthouse glass, and a Buddhist shrine, and the largest scrimshaw ever made, and the skull of some large, long-forgotten monster of the sea. It was a gorgeous museum, and I wandered around in a bit of a daze, trying desperately to focus on the myriad of amazing things in front of me instead of the rapidly forming blisters on my toes. I got my chance after I wandered outside the museum and over to the National Scottish Library, to have a quick look and to sit down for lunch. I milked that chance to sit for as long as I could, before crossing the street to Greyfriar’s Kirk. Here, I reaffirmed my love of cemeteries by seeing one in the gorgeous October sunshine, with the changing of the leaves and the swaying of the trees.

Despite my feet, I was immersed in the magic of Old Town, and so decided to head up the hill toward the Castle. I didn’t go inside again, because I didn’t want to spend the money, but  I did get a fabulous view of both old and new areas of Edinburgh and I found a tartan cloth mill museum right next to the Castle itself. It was there where I finally found a type of Buchanan tartan that I liked, and I bought a tammy hat as my souvenir from Scotland. After exploring the mill, I ventured down High Street and made my way to St. Giles Cathedral. This was, predictably, gorgeous and I managed to get a few pictures of the inside. I also took the opportunity to sit for a while and just admire, instead of running around trying to see as much as possible. It was very nice to relax and look around without the pressure of exploring. After I felt suitably rested from the cathedral, I headed back to the hostel to recover from my day, which pretty much had consisted of seven straight hours of walking.

Then next day, my legs and feet were still very unhappy with me. Despite that, I walked to the cafe next door, grabbed a french baguette, and went to eat on the Castle’s terrace overlooking the city. After that, I walked through the park and found a cool fountain, with a gorgeous view of the Castle’s walls. When it had passed 10am, I went through the National Gallery, and I was shocked at how much it reminded me of the Fitzwilliam Museum here in Cambridge. There were big red rooms and huge landscape paintings, sculptures and fancy chairs and Poussin scenes. The entire downstairs section was devoted to Scottish artists, and that was very cool to see. After seeing that, I wandered around the city a bit more, happening upon St. Mary’s Cathedral as well. But after only about 4 hours out, my legs were screaming at me, so I went back to the hostel and hung out in the common room.

This was also a very fun afternoon, despite the fact that it wasn’t all outdoors. I met a bunch of Spanish people, a few Australians, and an Italian who played guitar for us. We watched a Doctor Who marathon for a bit, talked a lot, and laughed a lot. It was a really great afternoon, and even though I didn’t see much of the city that day, I figured I had seen quite a bit the day before. My feet were much happier with me that day than the day previous, and I went to bed happy that night too. I woke up, forgot it was daylight savings over here that Sunday, and got to the train station an hour before my train was supposed to leave. I had a wonderful time in Edinburgh, but I was definitely excited to get home.

So there you have it–my Scottish adventure. It was wonderful, and I can’t wait to get back up there!

With happiness, Scottish-ness, and love,

Bryn