We arrived on Tuesday and took a bus to our hostel. Unlike other hostels, this was hotel-like and inhabited by families who hit the sack hours earlier than us. Not to worry– we weren’t here to make friends. We were here to explore! We made our way to the Fringe Festival booking office to pick up tickets for an evening show. The Fringe is the largest arts festival in the world and takes over Edinburgh all August. There are over 200 venues and every day features 100s of acts of theater, comedy, music, dance, and
street performance. The streets are lined with costumed lunatics trying to pedal their shows, each attempting to make a bigger spectacle than the next to draw in patrons. There were men on stilts, women hula-hooping, young Chinese kids screaming “Free hugs!,” a man laying face-down on the pavement feigning death, and more unicyclists, fire jugglers and human statues than we’ve seen in a lifetime. The Fringe schedule was overwhelming so we frantically chose an evening show with a catchy title in the comedy genre to hit up after dinner.
Maggie Dickinson’s Pub on Grassmarket Street filled us up with traditional Scottish grub and delightful atmosphere. We savored plates of Haggis, Neeps & Tatties (they even make a veggie version!), and drank Cider which we paid for in pounds, not Euro. We then strolled the winding cobblestone streets to Sweet Trevia Place for our unique comedy show whose gender-therapy-class atmosphere threw us a bit off-guard. The show let out around 10:00 and, always the sweet tooths, we began a quest for a “wee sweetie.” The stars were aligned when we stumbled upon Maxie’s Wine Bistro, a cozy old restaurant with wrap-around couches, plush pillows, chocolate cake and a bottle of sauvignon blanc. What a slice of heaven.
On Carolyn’s request, we ended the night at Three Sister’s, a great Scottish pub. Though we met some entertaining Scottish lads, we were far more enthralled with watching the Olympics. (It’s interesting to hear the British commentators’ take on the games, as they focus very little on Americans and much more on Team GB.) The walk home involved a pilgrimage to Pizza Palace for chips n’ cheese, the Scottish heart-attack-in-a-box that was just indulgent enough to suit our fancy.
After a restful sleep in family-friendly land, we arose early to carpe diem. The sun was shining, but the air was cold, so we bundled up for the walk down the Royal Mile. This happening stretch leads to the center of Edinburgh: the castle which is built on a high rock precipice and visible for anywhere in the city. In true obnoxious tourist fashion, we purchased not only castle tickets, but
audio guides as well and spent the next hours buried in our headphones, listening to tales of the Great Hall, Mary Queen of Scots, Oliver Cromwell, the Crowned Jewels, William Wallace and even the Royal Dog Cemetery. The castle walls boasted brilliant views of the surrounding city and the sea to the East.
The afternoon was packed with activity. Near St. Giles Cathedral we saw a rousing performance by Sam Wallis, the Kiwi who juggled fire while balancing atop a shaky tower. We stopped for lunch at the Elephant House, the site of J.K. Rowling’s literary inspiration, and marveled at the views of the castle and the plethora of elephant-themed statues, books, furniture and shortbread cookies. The next hour was spent roaming the halls of the National Museum of Scotland (these Europeans really have the right idea with their free admission to museums) where we learned about medieval torture, the making of tweed, the burial practices of Vikings and how the tumultuous progression of Scotland’s kings and queens made it the country it is today. We also learned that before the continents shifted, England and Scotland were actually part of different land masses that collided together creating a giant valley that is still known as the Borders. We 
strolled Princes Street, the major shopping district, creeped around in a breathtakingly green graveyard and drank some coffee at a beautiful Starbucks whose Victorian windows looked out on the Castle and a handful of other magical-looking ancient edifices.
We began Wednesday evening with our second homage to the Fringe. We saw Free Outgoing, a powerful play examining modern gender roles in rural India – both provocative and tragic. After the show, we wandered back to St. Giles where we were to meet our tour guide for a look at the underground city of Edinburgh, including, of course, some rousing ghost stories. We were saddened to hear that our tour guide crashed his car and that we’d be transferred to a later tour. What were we to do with this half hour of down time? But wait. It’s Edinburgh. And it’s Fringe season. So naturally, we turned the corner and there was a scrawny Scottish lad throwing fire around. He juggled machetes and fire while stolling over an Israeli man he’d picked from the crowd. I’m not too sure Mr. Israel enjoyed having fire flung over his face, but the crowd ate it up.
The post may be getting lengthy, but our ghost tour is worth retelling. Deborah, our gothic guide, drew us in with creepy tales of Edinburgh’s dark past. She began by recounting a tale of medieval torture that was prescribed to a rebellious Lord who attempted to take over the thrown. His punishment involved three days of public torture, including the reception of a scalding hot iron crown that melted his skull, to the shouts of a cheering and jeering mob. Creepy stuff. Then Deborah led us into the Vaults. Edinburgh actually has an entire underground city that was created as a second marketplace. It once held legitimate shop owners and craftsmen, but quickly disintegrated into a breeding ground for crime, prostitution, body snatching and murder. There were entire populations who lived underground and never saw the light of day. We saw abandoned wine cellars and tunnels where body snatchers took their dead to the hospital to receive payment. Deborah told stories of ghosts who still roam these vaults. There is Mr. Boots, the lonely cobbler who despised our company and was known to be the most hostile resident of the underground. There was little Johnny, the boy who people felt tugging on their hands and there was The Lady of the Corner, an evil spirit known to target women – especially pregnant ones – and impart on them severe back aches and fits of nausea. (Never mind that pregnant women are prone to sore backs and queasy stomachs…)
After a pleasant helping of ghost stories coupled with creepy historical tales, we exited the vaults, relieved to be back in the fresh air. One especially hysterical woman on our tour started complaining about her sore back to the two of us and seemed deeply offended when we laughed at her idea that it was caused by the Lady in the Corner. The tour concluded in Cannongate Cemetery, the supposed burial ground of Adam Smith and the trusted lover of Mary Queen of Scots. Here, Deborah told a final true story about the cannibal of Queensbury House, a haunting tale that deserves retelling…another time. What a thrilling and disturbing view of Edinburgh!
Our short but sweet pub crawl that night began at Mitre Bar where we drank Snake Bites and heard great Scottish music, including 500 Miles and Auld Lang Syne (whod’a thought that was Scottish!). We traveled to The Tron Bar for shots of Sambuca (a rather vile licorice liquor). With the Fringe in town, the young and Euro theater crowd was in full force, which made for some excellent people watching. It is with only slight embarrassment that we admit to making a second chips n’ cheese run that night. Devilish, but worth it.
Our final day began with a visit to the ½ price Fringe ticket office where we purchased tickets to an afternoon showing of On the Waterfront, the theatrical interpretation of the 1950’s Marlon Brando classic. The poor girl behind the counter had doubtlessly had a long day because instead of a 50% discount, the change she returned made for a 95% discount. We’d fueled the Scottish economy enough by this point that we didn’t feel too guilty about seeing the show for 1.25 pounds each!
We walked to the East end of town and saw the Parliament Building (with marvelous modern architecture) and Holyrood Palace, the Queen of England’s home during her Scottish visits. The weather gods blessed us with perfect temperatures to climb Arthur’s Seat, the lion-shaped mountain that rests at the end of the Royal Mountain. The top of the climb was steep, but well worth it as it warranted us a magnificent view of the city and the sea. We caught our breaths up top then sauntered back down to make our way to Pleasance Grand to see On the Waterfront. The show was brilliantly done, with creative staging and powerful acting.
Our final few hours were spent listening to bagpipes at the base of the Scottish Memorial, souvenir shopping on Princes Street and wandering aimlessly around New Town in search of a dinner spot. New Town had an entirely different feeling than Old and it was interesting to see the more modern buildings, shops and streets that juxtaposed the antiquity of Old Town. We wandered through Rose Street, Queen Street, George Street and the Queens Gardens before finding a B-quality dinner at Bar Napoli, an underground Italian spot. The food was nothing special but it filled us up for our flight home.
When we left Galway in June, we were anxious to get back to Dublin. When we left Edinburgh, we were seriously bummed. We agreed we could have easily lived in that magical city and had a lovely summer there too. In any case, we vowed to return to the land of castles, ghost stories, bagpipes and Haggis.
Now we’re back in Dublin until Thursday. As the summer comes to an end, friends slowly begin leaving the city for their homelands and we begin to get an itch for our own. Luckily we have two weeks of exciting travel before then, but it seems that our length of stay will be just enough. The Wessels arrive on Wednesday and we can’t wait for our time in Dublin, Wicklow and southern Ireland with them.
Until then, we leave you with an Irish blessing: “As you slide down the banister of life, may all of the splinters be pointing the right way.”
Slainte, luck and love,
Al and Mer
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