Since Spring Break

I haven't been up to much since the big trip to Italy. I was planning on going to a book reading that featured Ian McEwan but it was sold out long before I could get a ticket. So instead, Apryll and I decided to continue in that literary vein and go to a poetry reading at a cafe in Soho. Strangely, the cafe was full of old people. Most of the work was surprisingly good (including a five-person poetry troupe that performed a 30-minute routine) aside from a 20ish actress/artist with ratty pink hair who read a dirty poem. The following week I went to a Shins concert in North London. For my birthday I saw Monty Python's Spamalot, which was incredibly funny.

Edinburgh
For Easter, my school gives us Good Friday and the following Monday off, so I took a solo trip to Scotland for a few days. On Thursday, I left town on a night trip -- an uncomfortable and mostly sleepless nine-hour ride I spent squished between a Swede and the window. I arrived in Edinburgh at 7 a.m. -- hours before my hostel's reception would be open. I spent an hour or two in the train station with a cappuccino and set off to fine my hostel. By the time I had walked there it was nearly 10 a.m., but the reception was empty. I waited about an hour before giving up and set off to see the city with my heavy backpack.

I walked through the Princes Gardens, which gives an ideal view of Edinburgh Castle on the hill above. It's also filled with statues of famous Scots, including Sir Walter Scott (and his enormous monument) and David Livingstone. There's also a functional clock in the landscaping made of flowers. I hiked up to the Royal Mile, the stretch connecting the Castle with Holyroodhouse Palace, one of the Queen's three official residences. Here I saw St. Giles' Cathedral and a slew of other statues including a pensive David Hume. Up towards the Castle is the Scottish Whisky experience and Camera Obscura. I also hunted down the tiny plaque on the castle's esplanade walls that marks the spot where witches were burned at the stake. I walked the entire mile down to the Queen's Palace, which is right across the street from the newly-built Scottish Parliament building. Nearby is a stretch of grassy craggs, topped by Arthur's seat, the tallest hill outside the city. I wandered around central Edinburgh until I found the Sherlock Holmes statue and then walked back to the hostel, which by then was open.

After chucking my bag in my room (a tiny space crowded with three bunkbeds), I hiked up the hill to the castle and paid too much to enter it. Inside the castle features several museums (most of them dedicated to various military regiments, veterans and prisoners of war), chapels and gift shops. Down the hill I found the Writer's Museum, which commemorates the work of three of Scotland's great writers: Walter Scott, Robert Burns and Robert Louis Stevenson. The entire bottom floor was dedicated to Stevenson and included pictures of him at Kiribati and various other islands around the world. I also visited a weaving mill where I saw tartan manufactured. Sadly, there was no Abbott tartan for me to purchase.

After lunch I climbed Carlton Hill, which is filled with monuments. There was another huge tower erected to honor Walter Scott, as well as the Scottish Monument. This unfinished monument is meant to resemble the Greek style with its enormous columns. However, a lack of funding meant the project was abandoned, leaving it unfinished and sometimes called the National Disgrace. A little down the hill is a cemetery that houses David Hume's tomb and a monument to Scottish-Americans that features an Abraham Lincoln statue.

I search New Town for Stevenson's and Scott's homes, which were within blocks of each other. I found the general area, but both the buildings were unmarked. There was another monument to Prince Albert in Charlotte Square a few blocks away near a preserved Georgian House.

The next day I got up early, intending to hit all the museums in town. My first stop was the National Gallery/ Royal Scottish Academy (mostly modern art). Though small for a national art gallery, this one was stuffed with amazing paintings. And since it wasn't enormous, I didn't feel the pressure to rush through so I could see everything. I especially liked their Rembrandt self-portraits, Monet's hay stacks and a couple Van Gogh's. The entire bottom floor was reserved for Scottish painters -- the landscapes were incredibly beautiful. Next door was full of modern art, most of which was alright but not especially noteworthy. I stopped at the Museum on the Mound, which chronicles the Bank Of Scotland's history. The highlight was a glass case full of one million pounds (in cancelled notes) which wasn't much of a highlight.

I stopped in St. Giles' Cathedral and was disappointed with the Scottish Library's one exhibit about some random cartoon I'd never heard of. Next I saw the Royal Museum/ Museum of Scotland which sprawled over six stories and contained everything from Scottish history to Egyptian artifacts. There was just too much information to process, but I did enjoy the rooftop terrace with its view of the city. I had to visit Blackwell's, Edinburgh's largest bookstore. And next I went to the less interesting museums -- the Museum of Edinburgh and the People's Story Museum -- and toured the church where Adam Smith was buried.

After lunch I went back to the Queen's Palace but decided it was too expensive to tour. Even the art gallery was expensive and I was a little irritated with the Queen. I've already toured Windsor Castle outside London and that didn't excite me too much, so I wasn't really upset about missing out on Holyroodhouse.

I spent most of the afternoon climbing around the craggs outside the city, which proved to be one of my favorite things about Edinburgh. The weather was beautiful and the hills were full of other people hiking around. I had only set out to climb the first crag that overlooks the city, but once I got to the top I saw another, higher hill. So, of course, I had to climb this second one. And at it's summit I saw another, even higher, hill to climb. I eventually made my way up to Arthur's seat, the highest point outside the city, which was windy and cold. On my way back to the hostel I stopped in at Jenner's, Edinburgh's famous department store, in the same vein as Harrod's or Fortnum and Mason in London. These stores don't interest me much so I left after about two minutes.

Glasgow/ Highlands
The next day marked my departure from Edinburgh. I checked out of my hostel in the morning and decided to spend my time waiting at the train station instead of traipsing around the city with my bag again. After an hour-long train ride I was in Glasgow.

My hostel was an enormous hotel-like building that sat right on the river. I had booked a bed in an 8-person room, but when I checked in they had bumped my reservation. Instead they assigned me to a 2-person room -- at no extra cost -- and I didn't have a roommate either night. It was too cold and wet outside to do much that evening, but I spent a few hours walking around Glasgow. I decided there wasn't too much to see; the city reminded me too much of an American city -- very commercial. I returned to the hostel early and got some sleep for the next day.

Monday I was up early to catch a bus tour through the Scottish Highlands. We left Glasgow at 8 a.m. and headed north toward our first stop at Glencoe, which featured some creepy, treeless hills shrouded in fog. After several more hours on the bus (most of which was filled by corny commentary and Scottish music), we arrived at Loch Ness, the highlight of the tour. Here we paid to enter Urquhart Castle and took a cruise across Loch Ness. I don't like boats in the first place, so this little jaunt was a little miserable. It was cold and the lake was choppy and I was stuck outside on the platform. And Nessie was nowhere to be seen. After a few more hours on the bus, we arrived at Inverness, the capital of the Highlands. There wasn't much to do there but walk around a look at the modern, red-stone castle on the hill. We stopped again at some tiny town called Pitlochry before heading back to Glasgow.

My last day on holiday I took a train out to a suburb called Blantyre. Here was David Livingstone's birthplace and a museum about his life. It was definitely my favorite part of Glasgow, although there weren't any other tourists in sight. It looked like the kind of place that didn't get many visitors. I spent some time walking through the gardens and talking to the guy in the gift shop who recommended one of the Livingstone biographies. When I got back to town, I visited the gallery of modern art, the Glasgow Cathedral and St. Mungo's Museum of Religious Art. Finally my time in Scotland was up and I caught a train to the airport for my Ryanair flight home.