Why is it, whenever I try to catch a train, the buses and tubes unite against me and deliver me to the train station with breathless seconds to spare? I have not yet missed a train (touch wood), but pretty much all of them I've almost missed.
Today I am off to Lincoln. I've only got a few more weeks in the UK (I will return in September, if all goes well) and I've been squeezing as much as I can into them. This morning I was trying to make my room presentable for potential new flatmates, but I still left in good-ish time.
If only the bus had come when it said it was going to, not ten minutes later (they're supposed to come every five to eight minutes). If only I hadn't just missed the Jubilee train and had to wait four minutes for the next one (I've got used to tube trains every 1-2 minutes). If only the train hadn't been held at Canary Wharf to 'regulate the service'. If only I hadn't chosen the wrong door, adding precious seconds to my change at London Bridge. If only I hadn't missed the Northern Line train by five seconds, and had to wait five minutes for the next one. If only the driver of the Northern Line train hadn't decided to wait stupidly long at every station. By the time I got to Angel, I was convinced I was going to miss the train, so much so that I was a bit relieved I wouldn't have to run through the warren of King's Cross at high speed in my coat and backpack. There were four minutes until the train left, and I still had Euston to go before we got to King's Cross.
Or... not.
I'd mixed up King's Cross and Euston. King's Cross comes first. I sprinted off the train, trying not to collide with too many people, up the escalators, and the next escalators, and the next escalators. As I was reaching the top, the lady on the loudspeaker said that the next train to leave from platform 3 would be the 10.08 East Coast Service to Newark North Gate. My train! At least now I knew which platform, which is one of the things that takes up time to figure out.
I still only had about a minute left, and hadn't collected my tickets. I ran for a ticket machine, stabbed in my code and almost ran off with half my tickets before I remembered there were more to come. I followed the signs to platform 3, ran through the barriers (they were open, no need to figure out which ticket I had to stick in them! Hallelujah!) and skidded down the platform to the first open door (first class). I was on the train!
I was only 30s late, but the train was later. If it had been on time, I wouldn't have been able to catch it. Now we're speeding through snowy countryside with fields blanketed in white. In central London the snow has disappeared, but out here it's still a way from melting. Very pretty. And there are bunnies in the snowy white fields!
I stayed with my lovely hosts in a village a little outside Lincoln, beside a Roman archaeological dig. The smaller roads were very icy and we slid a bit at one point. Someone had tried to build an igloo using an umbrella as scaffolding, though it was only half-done.
Friday was Burns Night, when much of Scotland celebrates the life of Rabbie Burns and eats haggis. Though Lincoln is in England, my hosts have Scottish connections and were celebrating too. I had a great night, with Scottish smoked salmon, proper sheep's stomach haggis, neeps and tatties (turnips and potatoes). Though we didn't have a bagpiper, we had an iPod to pipe the haggis in, and the Ode to a Haggis (great chieftan o' the Puddin-race). To finish, there was cranachan and clootie pudding, and whisky, of course.
On Saturday we went for a turn around Lincoln. Lincoln Cathedral is one of the largest (if not the largest?) Norman cathedrals, and is set high on a hill looking over everything. It's fantastic coming across the low hills towards it in a car, and it must have been incredible to be a pilgrim in the medieval times, approaching this colossal building on foot. The inside of the cathedral has beautiful vaulted ceilings and high windows. Footsteps echo and you can hear the stillness.
Right outside the cathedral is the castle, which was once used as a prison, and is in fact where the court house still is. It's having renovations at the moment, but when it's not you can walk all the way around the tops of the walls. Instead we walked some of the way down Steep Hill, an old medieval street with original buildings stepping down the hill. The shops along here are wonderful little boutiquey things with crafty jewellery and clothes and knickknacks that you could spend hours and hours in. We peered in a few, then went down into the main town for coffee in a half-timbered café on a bridge that has been open for business for about five hundred years. The beamed ceilings were low, the casement windows glinting in the light, and if you squinted a bit and imagined folk in doublets and hose you could almost believe you were in the sixteenth century.
There was a lovely winter barbeque for dinner, and soon it was time to get the train back to London. The rain had come in the night, and the fields were a patchwork of greens and browns, very different from the white landscape of Friday.
Showing posts with label Scotland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Scotland. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Travelling to Ireland after the End of the World
We're still alive! Hooray!
And I'm on a train in the Lake District, coming into the same station as last time where I did not see any lakes. This time I've seen quite a lot of lakes, but they tend to be lakes in the middle of fields that aren't really supposed to be lakes (there's been a lot of rain and some train lines are down because of it. Fingers crossed, the trains I am taking today will not be affected).
I am somewhat worried, however, that my train will not make it into Glasgow in time for me to connect with my next train to Ayr, from where I will take a bus to Cairnryan and then a ferry to Belfast. By the time you read this post, all will have been revealed, and you shall see whether I needed to use my travel insurance...
I got to the train station in London in reasonable time and stood with the hordes of other people with suitcases, staring up at the boards where they tell you what platform your train is on, approximately eight minutes before it's due to leave (is this done for some reason other than stressing people out? Why can they organise platforms nicely in Germany and Austria and tell you weeks in advance, whereas in London we get eight minutes?). The train to Glasgow was late. Other trains kept leaving. It got to our departure time, and they still hadn't told us, though the announcements did advise that the train would be delayed.
Finally the platform came up. Number 3! It turned out that pretty much every person standing in the packed station hall was going to Glasgow, and there was a mad rush for Platform 3, suitcases sliding and banging behind. I must admit that, once on the platform, I ran - my ticket doesn't have reserved seats, which meant that if I didn't get in first I'd be obliged to stand.
I found a likely-looking carriage and got in, staring at all the reservation screens and trying to find one that was available. Unfortunately I was not in one of the two separate carriages set aside for the unreserved passengers (and they were being pretty unreserved, too, what with a five hour journey with no seat at stake).
I got out and ran for the right car, but by the time I got there there was barely standing room. One lady had to get off the train because of claustrophobia and I was one of the last to squeeze on. Then we stood for a while before a conductor asked if anyone would mind taking a later train, because they couldn't really have so many people on board (safety and that sort of thing. Not good when you can't move for suitcases and scrunched-up people).
I set myself up with my four bags (suitcase, backpack, food bag, other food bag), finding that there are actually far more places to stuff things when you're sitting in the aisle on your suitcase. I had one food bag to my left, my backpack to my right, and my other food bag above. Two and a bit hours later, enough people left the train that I got myself a seat, all to myself, and celebrated with lunch.
Awwwww! The driver just came on and told us they are organising ahead! I am doing a sail-rail ticket and I wasn't sure how officially connected-up it was, but it turns out that they have organised for us to take a later train (yes, I will miss the train I'm supposed to get) and then THE BUS WILL WAIT FOR US. Awww. Thanks Virgin Trains.
I have apple pie and mandarins for dinner. I'm looking forward to it, and trying to convince myself that 2.10 pm is in no way dinner time when you've just had lunch.
2.24: I have scored myself a window seat! Ha! And eaten most of my mange tout. We will get into Glasgow in a little over an hour, ten minutes before sunset.
3.07: Going past Scottish lowland mountains with black vegetation across their smooth, rounded sides and a spattering of snow in patches on top. Low clouds drift fingers along their ridges. I have the theme from Skyfall stuck in my head (if you've seen the movie, you should know why).
6.40: I am checked in at the ferry! All gone well so far, with train and bus and ferry matching up nicely.
7.28: leaving port! I like ferries. They're like huge coffee shops that move. Well, this one is. I have myself a high-backed chair with a view into the black out the port hole. About to start my apple pie :)
And I'm on a train in the Lake District, coming into the same station as last time where I did not see any lakes. This time I've seen quite a lot of lakes, but they tend to be lakes in the middle of fields that aren't really supposed to be lakes (there's been a lot of rain and some train lines are down because of it. Fingers crossed, the trains I am taking today will not be affected).
I am somewhat worried, however, that my train will not make it into Glasgow in time for me to connect with my next train to Ayr, from where I will take a bus to Cairnryan and then a ferry to Belfast. By the time you read this post, all will have been revealed, and you shall see whether I needed to use my travel insurance...
I got to the train station in London in reasonable time and stood with the hordes of other people with suitcases, staring up at the boards where they tell you what platform your train is on, approximately eight minutes before it's due to leave (is this done for some reason other than stressing people out? Why can they organise platforms nicely in Germany and Austria and tell you weeks in advance, whereas in London we get eight minutes?). The train to Glasgow was late. Other trains kept leaving. It got to our departure time, and they still hadn't told us, though the announcements did advise that the train would be delayed.
Finally the platform came up. Number 3! It turned out that pretty much every person standing in the packed station hall was going to Glasgow, and there was a mad rush for Platform 3, suitcases sliding and banging behind. I must admit that, once on the platform, I ran - my ticket doesn't have reserved seats, which meant that if I didn't get in first I'd be obliged to stand.
I found a likely-looking carriage and got in, staring at all the reservation screens and trying to find one that was available. Unfortunately I was not in one of the two separate carriages set aside for the unreserved passengers (and they were being pretty unreserved, too, what with a five hour journey with no seat at stake).
I got out and ran for the right car, but by the time I got there there was barely standing room. One lady had to get off the train because of claustrophobia and I was one of the last to squeeze on. Then we stood for a while before a conductor asked if anyone would mind taking a later train, because they couldn't really have so many people on board (safety and that sort of thing. Not good when you can't move for suitcases and scrunched-up people).
I set myself up with my four bags (suitcase, backpack, food bag, other food bag), finding that there are actually far more places to stuff things when you're sitting in the aisle on your suitcase. I had one food bag to my left, my backpack to my right, and my other food bag above. Two and a bit hours later, enough people left the train that I got myself a seat, all to myself, and celebrated with lunch.
Awwwww! The driver just came on and told us they are organising ahead! I am doing a sail-rail ticket and I wasn't sure how officially connected-up it was, but it turns out that they have organised for us to take a later train (yes, I will miss the train I'm supposed to get) and then THE BUS WILL WAIT FOR US. Awww. Thanks Virgin Trains.
I have apple pie and mandarins for dinner. I'm looking forward to it, and trying to convince myself that 2.10 pm is in no way dinner time when you've just had lunch.
2.24: I have scored myself a window seat! Ha! And eaten most of my mange tout. We will get into Glasgow in a little over an hour, ten minutes before sunset.
3.07: Going past Scottish lowland mountains with black vegetation across their smooth, rounded sides and a spattering of snow in patches on top. Low clouds drift fingers along their ridges. I have the theme from Skyfall stuck in my head (if you've seen the movie, you should know why).
6.40: I am checked in at the ferry! All gone well so far, with train and bus and ferry matching up nicely.
7.28: leaving port! I like ferries. They're like huge coffee shops that move. Well, this one is. I have myself a high-backed chair with a view into the black out the port hole. About to start my apple pie :)
Monday, August 27, 2012
Edinburgh Day 6: The Scottish National Museum, Greek Gods and Japanese Imperial Dance Music
I'll try to keep this short.
(ha.)
I started the day with a nice breakfast and a bit of writing at the Elephant House, then went to get a ticket to a Fringe show I'd been eyeing up. Unfortunately it was sold out (for future reference: gotta be in quick) but that meant I could get a ticket to another show it had clashed with: Unmythable.
I still had some time to spare, so I went in search of the Scottish National Museum. I started with the ancient peoples section, thinking that the museum really wasn't that big for a national museum, though very well-designed and modern. It had artwork interspersed with the exhibits, and everything was beautifully presented with enough space and interest so that it didn't all blur together. I finished with the ancient peoples section and went to look for other exhibits, and realised the building I had thought was the entire museum was actually just the smallest wing. The main parts of the museum were still to come, housed around an incredible Victorian atrium. I didn't have enough time left, so I decided to make a return visit.
Unmythable was very good, with three guys playing a multitude of parts and encouraging the audience to join in as Argonauts. I especially liked the scene where two of the actors were staging an argument between Zeus, Demeter, Hades and Persephone, with part-changing almost every sentence. There were songs and free olives.
After another stint at the museum, where I saw Dolly the cloned sheep and some incredible silver ships used to hold cutlery, I went to a book festival talk about writing YA and saw my last Edinburgh International Festival concert: imperial Japanese music and dance.
It was very interesting, with all the musicians still and poised as they played their instruments. Men in beautiful costumes stepped in slow patterns that reminded me of tai chi, and later wore masks and added swords, spears and shields to their costumes. At one point an instrument played a few notes that sounded almost exactly like the beginning of the theme tune to Star Trek: The Next Generation, and I wondered if the Star Trek composers had borrowed the notes.
I went back to the book festival for a bit to hear some audio compositions, and finished my evening just as the fireworks were going off over the castle.
(ha.)
I started the day with a nice breakfast and a bit of writing at the Elephant House, then went to get a ticket to a Fringe show I'd been eyeing up. Unfortunately it was sold out (for future reference: gotta be in quick) but that meant I could get a ticket to another show it had clashed with: Unmythable.
I still had some time to spare, so I went in search of the Scottish National Museum. I started with the ancient peoples section, thinking that the museum really wasn't that big for a national museum, though very well-designed and modern. It had artwork interspersed with the exhibits, and everything was beautifully presented with enough space and interest so that it didn't all blur together. I finished with the ancient peoples section and went to look for other exhibits, and realised the building I had thought was the entire museum was actually just the smallest wing. The main parts of the museum were still to come, housed around an incredible Victorian atrium. I didn't have enough time left, so I decided to make a return visit.
Unmythable was very good, with three guys playing a multitude of parts and encouraging the audience to join in as Argonauts. I especially liked the scene where two of the actors were staging an argument between Zeus, Demeter, Hades and Persephone, with part-changing almost every sentence. There were songs and free olives.
After another stint at the museum, where I saw Dolly the cloned sheep and some incredible silver ships used to hold cutlery, I went to a book festival talk about writing YA and saw my last Edinburgh International Festival concert: imperial Japanese music and dance.
It was very interesting, with all the musicians still and poised as they played their instruments. Men in beautiful costumes stepped in slow patterns that reminded me of tai chi, and later wore masks and added swords, spears and shields to their costumes. At one point an instrument played a few notes that sounded almost exactly like the beginning of the theme tune to Star Trek: The Next Generation, and I wondered if the Star Trek composers had borrowed the notes.
I went back to the book festival for a bit to hear some audio compositions, and finished my evening just as the fireworks were going off over the castle.
Edinburgh Day 5: Famous Cafés, the Castle, Ancient Civilisations, Translation Duel and the Edinburgh Military Tattoo
Wow I stuffed a lot into yesterday.
I started with breakfast (coffee and build-your-own banana and syrup pancakes) at the Elephant House, where JK Rowling did a lot of her writing for Harry Potter. I did some writing too. It's a nice place, with soft jazzy music and huge windows and wooden chairs and tables with a history. I'm actually there again now as I write the next day. What? I enjoyed my pancakes.
Next I met some people at the Castle, and we wandered through looking at the cannon and the dog cemetery (it has headstones for the dogs) and hearing about the different layers of the castle and the sieges over the ages. The castle isn't the kind of singular building that's implied by the name - it's many, many buildings, with barracks and military buildings and chapels and restaurants (former cart buildings) and war memorials and shops and museums and the main royal buildings including the Great Hall and the room in which Mary Queen of Scots gave birth to James I/VI of England/Scotland. We filed past the Scottish crown jewels, which were hidden in St David's Tower during the War, and saw a musketeering display in the Great Hall, where two costumed musketeers demonstrated how long it might take to prepare a musket (a lot longer than you might think, watching musketeer movies).
At one o'clock they let off a cannon from the castle ramparts, so we joined the crowd to watch. A female soldier marched out and stood incredibly still as everyone jostled for position with their tartan souvenir hats. We waited. And waited. I was watching the soldier to be prepared for the noise when she triggered the cannon, but she never moved! There was a huge bang and about half the crowd screamed. I don't think I was among them.
After inspecting the whisky boutique, I wandered through a few creepy rooms in St. David's tower and realised I had twenty minutes to get down to Charlotte Square for my Book Festival lecture about the anthropology of the New World and the Old World by Peter Watson. It was very interesting, looking at how the natural resources and atmospheric tendencies of each group of continents could have affected the development of civilisations. It made me think a lot about how you could set up the environment of a fictional world to affect the culture - for example, the New World only had three species of domesticable animal, none of which could be ridden for any length of time. Not every world has to have horses.
(One of the things I find difficult when writing about my own imaginary world is remembering that most forests in the world have animals other than birds and insects in them. I'm too used to the New Zealand bush. The lecture made me think: maybe I don't have to have large animals in my world. But then I guess I want horses, and if you have horses it's likely that you have a few related animals as well. Sigh.)
I had to charge my dead camera and find some internet, so I gave in and went back to the hostel. You would not believe how difficult it is to find wifi Internet in Edinburgh. Lots of places say they have it, but don't. In other places I'd get on and nothing would load (that may have been due to my iPad playing up, I'm not sure) and in other places, including my hostel, you had to pay. The book festival did have free wifi in its garden, but that was mostly a refuse-to-load situation.
So back to the story! I had another talk at the book festival that evening, a translation duel between two English translators from the French. They'd translated the same passage from the French and spent the hour discussing why they'd chosen which word, and all the things you have to take into consideration when translating: tone, voice, meaning, jokes which may or may not be translatable... The chair warned us that they'd spent ten minutes discussing the placement of a single comma in the Spanish duel the night before, and we should get out while we could. Translating is really a lot more complicated than it seems.
And then, the last event of the day: the Edinburgh Military Tattoo!
I joined the queue on the Royal Mile to have my bag searched (didn't have a bag, so straight through :D) and climbed the cobbles up to the Esplanade. Every year they construct huge temporary stands around the Esplanade that cantilever out into space (didn't really think about it too much...) just for the Tattoo. I walked in under the end stand and saw the castle lit with dancing flames in braziers around the walls. It wasn't yet dark, but the effect was still magical and got even more so as the dusk came on.
I found my seat and sat watching some of the performers get their photos taken in front of the castle. The announcer welcomed everybody from everywhere and got everyone to sing happy birthday to everyone whose birthday it was. At nine o'clock an airforce jet flew over and the Tattoo began.
Kilted men (and probably women) marched out of the castle, across the drawbridge and onto the Esplanade. They kept coming, and coming, blowing their bagpipes and drumming and marching all in step. I counted seventeen rows of thirteen and tried to remember my times-tables as they marched up and down, moving in and out of one another and making impressive patterns. I really like bagpipes, and there's nothing like a full 221 people with bagpipes and drums. And this group was only the kilted population of the Tattoo - there were many more unkilted performers to come later.
My favourite parts of the Tattoo were the first bit with all the bagpipes, the Swiss Top Secret band and the Swedish contingent. The Top Secret band only had drums, but they were absolutely mesmerising. Their specialty was mexican-wave style manoeuvres, where they would all stop drumming or turn or start drumming very quickly one after another.
The Swedish contingent, all of whom were doing their military service and had only been in the military for a year, were very good at marching around in patterns and hoisting their rifles in time to music. At one point one of the soldiers dropped his rifle and I felt quite sorry for him - it was just lying there on the ground and he was doing all the manoeuvres with an air rifle (like an air guitar. Not an actual air rifle). Then the rest of the soldiers all fired their guns, and I realised the gun on the ground was loaded! Not with an actual bullet, of course, but a blank might still do some damage if you stepped on the gun. After that I was extremely impressed with how the soldiers managed to march back and forth over the top of the gun without touching it.
The night ended with fireworks and Auld Lang Syne, and then it took twenty minutes to get out of the stands. It was past eleven p.m. by now, but the streets were as full of people as if it were daylight. This happens every night, pretty much, in August - the jet flyover, the fireworks, and the huge crowds. I wonder what the locals think...
I started with breakfast (coffee and build-your-own banana and syrup pancakes) at the Elephant House, where JK Rowling did a lot of her writing for Harry Potter. I did some writing too. It's a nice place, with soft jazzy music and huge windows and wooden chairs and tables with a history. I'm actually there again now as I write the next day. What? I enjoyed my pancakes.
Next I met some people at the Castle, and we wandered through looking at the cannon and the dog cemetery (it has headstones for the dogs) and hearing about the different layers of the castle and the sieges over the ages. The castle isn't the kind of singular building that's implied by the name - it's many, many buildings, with barracks and military buildings and chapels and restaurants (former cart buildings) and war memorials and shops and museums and the main royal buildings including the Great Hall and the room in which Mary Queen of Scots gave birth to James I/VI of England/Scotland. We filed past the Scottish crown jewels, which were hidden in St David's Tower during the War, and saw a musketeering display in the Great Hall, where two costumed musketeers demonstrated how long it might take to prepare a musket (a lot longer than you might think, watching musketeer movies).
At one o'clock they let off a cannon from the castle ramparts, so we joined the crowd to watch. A female soldier marched out and stood incredibly still as everyone jostled for position with their tartan souvenir hats. We waited. And waited. I was watching the soldier to be prepared for the noise when she triggered the cannon, but she never moved! There was a huge bang and about half the crowd screamed. I don't think I was among them.
After inspecting the whisky boutique, I wandered through a few creepy rooms in St. David's tower and realised I had twenty minutes to get down to Charlotte Square for my Book Festival lecture about the anthropology of the New World and the Old World by Peter Watson. It was very interesting, looking at how the natural resources and atmospheric tendencies of each group of continents could have affected the development of civilisations. It made me think a lot about how you could set up the environment of a fictional world to affect the culture - for example, the New World only had three species of domesticable animal, none of which could be ridden for any length of time. Not every world has to have horses.
(One of the things I find difficult when writing about my own imaginary world is remembering that most forests in the world have animals other than birds and insects in them. I'm too used to the New Zealand bush. The lecture made me think: maybe I don't have to have large animals in my world. But then I guess I want horses, and if you have horses it's likely that you have a few related animals as well. Sigh.)
I had to charge my dead camera and find some internet, so I gave in and went back to the hostel. You would not believe how difficult it is to find wifi Internet in Edinburgh. Lots of places say they have it, but don't. In other places I'd get on and nothing would load (that may have been due to my iPad playing up, I'm not sure) and in other places, including my hostel, you had to pay. The book festival did have free wifi in its garden, but that was mostly a refuse-to-load situation.
So back to the story! I had another talk at the book festival that evening, a translation duel between two English translators from the French. They'd translated the same passage from the French and spent the hour discussing why they'd chosen which word, and all the things you have to take into consideration when translating: tone, voice, meaning, jokes which may or may not be translatable... The chair warned us that they'd spent ten minutes discussing the placement of a single comma in the Spanish duel the night before, and we should get out while we could. Translating is really a lot more complicated than it seems.
And then, the last event of the day: the Edinburgh Military Tattoo!
I joined the queue on the Royal Mile to have my bag searched (didn't have a bag, so straight through :D) and climbed the cobbles up to the Esplanade. Every year they construct huge temporary stands around the Esplanade that cantilever out into space (didn't really think about it too much...) just for the Tattoo. I walked in under the end stand and saw the castle lit with dancing flames in braziers around the walls. It wasn't yet dark, but the effect was still magical and got even more so as the dusk came on.
I found my seat and sat watching some of the performers get their photos taken in front of the castle. The announcer welcomed everybody from everywhere and got everyone to sing happy birthday to everyone whose birthday it was. At nine o'clock an airforce jet flew over and the Tattoo began.
Kilted men (and probably women) marched out of the castle, across the drawbridge and onto the Esplanade. They kept coming, and coming, blowing their bagpipes and drumming and marching all in step. I counted seventeen rows of thirteen and tried to remember my times-tables as they marched up and down, moving in and out of one another and making impressive patterns. I really like bagpipes, and there's nothing like a full 221 people with bagpipes and drums. And this group was only the kilted population of the Tattoo - there were many more unkilted performers to come later.
My favourite parts of the Tattoo were the first bit with all the bagpipes, the Swiss Top Secret band and the Swedish contingent. The Top Secret band only had drums, but they were absolutely mesmerising. Their specialty was mexican-wave style manoeuvres, where they would all stop drumming or turn or start drumming very quickly one after another.
The Swedish contingent, all of whom were doing their military service and had only been in the military for a year, were very good at marching around in patterns and hoisting their rifles in time to music. At one point one of the soldiers dropped his rifle and I felt quite sorry for him - it was just lying there on the ground and he was doing all the manoeuvres with an air rifle (like an air guitar. Not an actual air rifle). Then the rest of the soldiers all fired their guns, and I realised the gun on the ground was loaded! Not with an actual bullet, of course, but a blank might still do some damage if you stepped on the gun. After that I was extremely impressed with how the soldiers managed to march back and forth over the top of the gun without touching it.
The night ended with fireworks and Auld Lang Syne, and then it took twenty minutes to get out of the stands. It was past eleven p.m. by now, but the streets were as full of people as if it were daylight. This happens every night, pretty much, in August - the jet flyover, the fireworks, and the huge crowds. I wonder what the locals think...
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Edinburgh Day 4: Walking Tour, Censorship, Beatboxing and Ghosts
(I am writing this in The Elephant House! You know, the JK Rowling cafe! And feeling slightly self-conscious, writing... Out the window you can see the castle on its cliffs and a graveyard and an old school. Hmmm...)
I never really understand what happens to the morning. I wander around, and then suddenly it's time to go to something and it's nearly the afternoon. Yesterday I went to look at the Half Price Hut, where you get Fringe tickets for half-price, got myself a thick magazine book with 375 pages that lists all the Fringe shows (there are that many), and went up to the Royal Mile for a walking tour at 11am.
The walking tour was pretty good, going around a few closes on the Mile and explaining such things as punishment for small crimes in the middle ages (nailing your ear to a post), gardyloo (watch out, there's nasty stuff a-coming out the window) and the national animal of Scotland (a unicorn. No one mentioned you were allowed mythical creatures!). Some of these stories I'd heard before, but it was much more real when you could look up at the windows and stare at the ear-post and think that's where they did that.
We also walked through Greyfriar's Graveyard with the memorial to Greyfriar's Bobby (little dog who never left his master's side) and heard about the names on gravestones that appear in Harry Potter. I went back later and found McGonnagal, Black and Thomas Riddell, but couldn't find Crookshanks.
At 3pm I had a talk about censorship at the Book Festival. It was incredibly interesting, with Chika Unigwe as the chair and Patrick Ness as the keynote speaker talking about how, today in a Western society, we more often self-censor than are externally censored. He put this down to fear of consequences and offending people, but also talked about freedom of speech and the courage to say something that might offend someone, but that needs to be said.
Then the floor was opened up to discussion from the audience, at least half of whom were authors at the Edinburgh Writer's Conference. People kept standing up and introducing themselves as China Miéville or Melvin Burgess (well, only those two did. No impersonators) and saying what they thought. It was a bit disjointed at times, with so many people wanting to air their views and not really reply to the previous question, but I think the general idea that came out of it was that people have the right not to be punished for saying stuff, but that everyone should always be arguing about what you should say. Another interesting point was that the backlash against political-correctness is often a way for prejudice and 'repugnant' views to sneak back in.
I hadn't realised that the event would last two hours, so by the time it was finished I had fifteen minutes to get right across town. Google told me it would take twenty-four minutes. I ran all the way, round the bottom of the castle cliffs and up along to my first Fringe show: the Vocal Orchestra.
I was a bit late, but they let me in anyway. The Vocal Orchestra are beatboxers and singers - beatboxing is where you make noises into a microphone that sound like music or drums (for those who've never come across it). If it's really good, it can sound almost exactly the same as the original music, but it's all done with voice.
The Vocal Orchestra are really good.
Among other things, they did Teardrop by Massive Attack, got stuck in a time machine and came out in 1723 (Vivaldi), had duels both musical and physical, and used the audience as an instrument (we had to sing notes according to our section). It was great.
I stopped back at the hostel to drop my bag off, and went to meet the ghost tour on the Royal Mile. We heard about the curse of the North Bridge, went up to Calton Hill where witches meet in front of the unfinished Parthenon, wandered through a graveyard with a very scary headstone (weathered to look like someone screaming) and took lots of photos to examine for supernatural apparitions. I got lots of 'orbs', but that was most likely dust caught by the flash. It's amazing how wandering around a graveyard in the dark can make you jump at everything.
I never really understand what happens to the morning. I wander around, and then suddenly it's time to go to something and it's nearly the afternoon. Yesterday I went to look at the Half Price Hut, where you get Fringe tickets for half-price, got myself a thick magazine book with 375 pages that lists all the Fringe shows (there are that many), and went up to the Royal Mile for a walking tour at 11am.
The walking tour was pretty good, going around a few closes on the Mile and explaining such things as punishment for small crimes in the middle ages (nailing your ear to a post), gardyloo (watch out, there's nasty stuff a-coming out the window) and the national animal of Scotland (a unicorn. No one mentioned you were allowed mythical creatures!). Some of these stories I'd heard before, but it was much more real when you could look up at the windows and stare at the ear-post and think that's where they did that.
We also walked through Greyfriar's Graveyard with the memorial to Greyfriar's Bobby (little dog who never left his master's side) and heard about the names on gravestones that appear in Harry Potter. I went back later and found McGonnagal, Black and Thomas Riddell, but couldn't find Crookshanks.
At 3pm I had a talk about censorship at the Book Festival. It was incredibly interesting, with Chika Unigwe as the chair and Patrick Ness as the keynote speaker talking about how, today in a Western society, we more often self-censor than are externally censored. He put this down to fear of consequences and offending people, but also talked about freedom of speech and the courage to say something that might offend someone, but that needs to be said.
Then the floor was opened up to discussion from the audience, at least half of whom were authors at the Edinburgh Writer's Conference. People kept standing up and introducing themselves as China Miéville or Melvin Burgess (well, only those two did. No impersonators) and saying what they thought. It was a bit disjointed at times, with so many people wanting to air their views and not really reply to the previous question, but I think the general idea that came out of it was that people have the right not to be punished for saying stuff, but that everyone should always be arguing about what you should say. Another interesting point was that the backlash against political-correctness is often a way for prejudice and 'repugnant' views to sneak back in.
I hadn't realised that the event would last two hours, so by the time it was finished I had fifteen minutes to get right across town. Google told me it would take twenty-four minutes. I ran all the way, round the bottom of the castle cliffs and up along to my first Fringe show: the Vocal Orchestra.
I was a bit late, but they let me in anyway. The Vocal Orchestra are beatboxers and singers - beatboxing is where you make noises into a microphone that sound like music or drums (for those who've never come across it). If it's really good, it can sound almost exactly the same as the original music, but it's all done with voice.
The Vocal Orchestra are really good.
Among other things, they did Teardrop by Massive Attack, got stuck in a time machine and came out in 1723 (Vivaldi), had duels both musical and physical, and used the audience as an instrument (we had to sing notes according to our section). It was great.
I stopped back at the hostel to drop my bag off, and went to meet the ghost tour on the Royal Mile. We heard about the curse of the North Bridge, went up to Calton Hill where witches meet in front of the unfinished Parthenon, wandered through a graveyard with a very scary headstone (weathered to look like someone screaming) and took lots of photos to examine for supernatural apparitions. I got lots of 'orbs', but that was most likely dust caught by the flash. It's amazing how wandering around a graveyard in the dark can make you jump at everything.
Monday, August 20, 2012
Edinburgh Day 3: Arthur's Seat, the Tron and Kathak Dance
I am sitting in front of a ruined chapel on Arthur's Seat, looking out over a lake in Holyrood Park out towards the Firth of Forth (Arthur's Seat is a hill and the Firth of Forth is the wide mouth of the Forth River [I think I have that the right way round...], opening out into the sea. It pretty much is the sea). I'm waiting for the ball to drop in the tower beside Edinburgh's Folly, the unfinished Parthenon on one of the hills near the city, which will mean it's one o'clock.
I still haven't gone proper grocery shopping and forgot to get anything for breakfast last night, so I went out to find breakfast this morning, after which I was going to climb Arthur's Seat. After much walking I found a Sainsbury's and got myself some blueberries and Scotch pancakes (a.k.a. pikelets), as well as a pair of sunglasses - I hadn't realised I would need them in Scotland. Now I just had to get to Arthur's Seat, which you can see from most parts of the city with its crags and rocky head.
I found some tour buses and reasoned I must be getting close, stared through the bars at Holyrood Palace and walked past the Scottish Parliament, then found a track. It was a very steep track, paved by convicts in the mid-nineteenth century, and runs up below the Salisbury Crags, which are still quite high up and give an awesome view of the old town, the castle and the sea. I originally thought this was Arthur's Seat, but it turned out to be the larger hill in behind. A bit more walking up very steep paths and rock-faces masquerading as paths, and I was at the top, along with at least fifty other people.
The view is incredible. It's the highest point of the city and you can see in all directions, out to the Forth Bridge, over the Old and New Towns, out to Portobello Beach. I braved the midges and went right to the very top rock (the midges seemed to like this very top rock, a lot). The cliffs drop off on almost every side and it's a bit of a puzzle getting down, because so many people have climbed over this hill so many times that there are paths, or things that look like paths, everywhere. I took one that ended in a small chasm, so had to retrace my steps back up and find a better way down.
I think I'm going to have sore legs tomorrow.
I walked up the Royal Mile and stopped in a few shops and a museum of Edinburgh life, then was caught by the former church that is now called Tron, and was holding free music. It's an incredible venue, with exposed stone and ancient stained glass windows behind the stage. An accordionist was playing when I came in, but that soon changed to a pair of singer-songwriters on guitar and box. (I'm not sure what the instrument I'm calling 'box' actually is. It looks like the back of an old speaker, and you sit on it and tap/bang it to get a range of percussion. I will continue to call it a box until I find out what it actually is.) I'm pretty sure one of the guys was a Kiwi, from his accent. I really enjoyed the songs with harmonies.
By this time the previously-sunny day had clouded over, so I made a detour to the hostel to get my Kathmandu jacket. You may remember my ode to my Kathmandu jacket from some time ago. When I got back to town it was properly pouring, so I went to find a coffee shop close to the theatre to sit for the rest of the afternoon with my iPad. Writing in an Edinburgh cafe. Very JK Rowling.
The concert for the evening was the Aditi Mangaldas Dance Company doing both traditional and contemporary Kathak dance. After much thought, I decided that Kathak could also be called slap-dancing - like tap-dancing, but with feet slaps instead of taps. The dancers, both men and women, wore bells around their ankles in the traditional first half, stamping and wending their arms this way and that. The second half was the contemporary half, and I think my favourite. This is strange, because this half did not have bells, and usually I like bells. I think the percussion of the foot-slaps was easier to hear, perhaps, and it's amazing how fast they can do it. The movements also seemed bolder and more impassioned in the contemporary Karthak, and there was lots of diggadiggadiggadig chanting, which I really like and would love to someday learn how to do. I'm not sure if my mouth moves that fast, however...
I still haven't gone proper grocery shopping and forgot to get anything for breakfast last night, so I went out to find breakfast this morning, after which I was going to climb Arthur's Seat. After much walking I found a Sainsbury's and got myself some blueberries and Scotch pancakes (a.k.a. pikelets), as well as a pair of sunglasses - I hadn't realised I would need them in Scotland. Now I just had to get to Arthur's Seat, which you can see from most parts of the city with its crags and rocky head.
I found some tour buses and reasoned I must be getting close, stared through the bars at Holyrood Palace and walked past the Scottish Parliament, then found a track. It was a very steep track, paved by convicts in the mid-nineteenth century, and runs up below the Salisbury Crags, which are still quite high up and give an awesome view of the old town, the castle and the sea. I originally thought this was Arthur's Seat, but it turned out to be the larger hill in behind. A bit more walking up very steep paths and rock-faces masquerading as paths, and I was at the top, along with at least fifty other people.
The view is incredible. It's the highest point of the city and you can see in all directions, out to the Forth Bridge, over the Old and New Towns, out to Portobello Beach. I braved the midges and went right to the very top rock (the midges seemed to like this very top rock, a lot). The cliffs drop off on almost every side and it's a bit of a puzzle getting down, because so many people have climbed over this hill so many times that there are paths, or things that look like paths, everywhere. I took one that ended in a small chasm, so had to retrace my steps back up and find a better way down.
I think I'm going to have sore legs tomorrow.
I walked up the Royal Mile and stopped in a few shops and a museum of Edinburgh life, then was caught by the former church that is now called Tron, and was holding free music. It's an incredible venue, with exposed stone and ancient stained glass windows behind the stage. An accordionist was playing when I came in, but that soon changed to a pair of singer-songwriters on guitar and box. (I'm not sure what the instrument I'm calling 'box' actually is. It looks like the back of an old speaker, and you sit on it and tap/bang it to get a range of percussion. I will continue to call it a box until I find out what it actually is.) I'm pretty sure one of the guys was a Kiwi, from his accent. I really enjoyed the songs with harmonies.
By this time the previously-sunny day had clouded over, so I made a detour to the hostel to get my Kathmandu jacket. You may remember my ode to my Kathmandu jacket from some time ago. When I got back to town it was properly pouring, so I went to find a coffee shop close to the theatre to sit for the rest of the afternoon with my iPad. Writing in an Edinburgh cafe. Very JK Rowling.
The concert for the evening was the Aditi Mangaldas Dance Company doing both traditional and contemporary Kathak dance. After much thought, I decided that Kathak could also be called slap-dancing - like tap-dancing, but with feet slaps instead of taps. The dancers, both men and women, wore bells around their ankles in the traditional first half, stamping and wending their arms this way and that. The second half was the contemporary half, and I think my favourite. This is strange, because this half did not have bells, and usually I like bells. I think the percussion of the foot-slaps was easier to hear, perhaps, and it's amazing how fast they can do it. The movements also seemed bolder and more impassioned in the contemporary Karthak, and there was lots of diggadiggadiggadig chanting, which I really like and would love to someday learn how to do. I'm not sure if my mouth moves that fast, however...
Edinburgh Day 2: The Book Festival
My first event this morning was a talk with Garth Nix, but I wasn't quite sure where it was. My plan was to go to a coffee shop and get some wifi (the hostel only has it in certain places, and you have to pay for it) but then I took too long getting ready and ended up using the very restricted Internet on my phone and staring at a street map. Charlotte Square gardens is where the Edinburgh International Book Festival is held, and it's at the end of George Street, the main street in the New Town.
The New Town has a very regular layout, with statues in the centres of the main intersections and beautiful tall Georgian buildings lining the wide streets. I found Charlotte Square and wandered through the festival foyer into the main lawn with its statue and deck chairs, and the tent venues and temporary bookshops around the outside.
Garth Nix spent the first few minutes telling us that, yes, Garth Nix is his real name, showed us all his book covers and talked about the importance of persistence, or 'being too dumb to give up'. He's currently writing a prequel to the Old Kingdom series called Clariel, which will be out next year. He talked about taking ideas and things that resonate, and making good stories out of them, and how Hadrian's Wall had directly inspired the Wall of the Old Kingdom - he saw a photograph with snow on one side of the wall and sun on the other and it started him thinking... He's a very good speaker, although he does like shaggy dog stories.
I met up with a lovely lady for lunch and we had baked potato and salad in the crypt of a church by the botanical gardens, then wandered around the flea market in Grassmarket, looking at all the antiques and bric-a-brac. My next talk was with SD Crockett and Caroline Green at 5, so we arrived back in Charlotte Square for that and had an icecream before going in.
The talk was on dystopias and their popularity today and in the past, as well as their impact on the world. Crockett has written After the Snow, about a boy in a future ice-age UK, and Green's book is Cracks, set in a dystopian society with mind reading devices and a pretty messed-up ecological system. Many dystopias share the idea of a central lie, making the supposed utopia into a dystopia, and have vibrant settings with huge conflict, which is maybe what makes them so popular. They said it would be nice if dystopian books had an impact on the world through making people think, and this has probably already happened to some extent with some books.
My last talk of the evening was Alain de Botton, in a packed main theatre. He was talking about his book 'Religion for Atheists', where he says that the secular world could learn a lot from the world's religions, and rejected 'the idea coming out of North Oxford' that religion as a whole is a terrible idea and should be scrapped. It was very interesting, and he made some good points including the secular world's emphasis on individuality and cool, dry education and the religious world's emphasis on oratory, community and beauty intertwined with life.
The sun was going down as I walked back to the hostel, casting beautiful silhouettes of the statues along George Street.
The New Town has a very regular layout, with statues in the centres of the main intersections and beautiful tall Georgian buildings lining the wide streets. I found Charlotte Square and wandered through the festival foyer into the main lawn with its statue and deck chairs, and the tent venues and temporary bookshops around the outside.
Garth Nix spent the first few minutes telling us that, yes, Garth Nix is his real name, showed us all his book covers and talked about the importance of persistence, or 'being too dumb to give up'. He's currently writing a prequel to the Old Kingdom series called Clariel, which will be out next year. He talked about taking ideas and things that resonate, and making good stories out of them, and how Hadrian's Wall had directly inspired the Wall of the Old Kingdom - he saw a photograph with snow on one side of the wall and sun on the other and it started him thinking... He's a very good speaker, although he does like shaggy dog stories.
I met up with a lovely lady for lunch and we had baked potato and salad in the crypt of a church by the botanical gardens, then wandered around the flea market in Grassmarket, looking at all the antiques and bric-a-brac. My next talk was with SD Crockett and Caroline Green at 5, so we arrived back in Charlotte Square for that and had an icecream before going in.
The talk was on dystopias and their popularity today and in the past, as well as their impact on the world. Crockett has written After the Snow, about a boy in a future ice-age UK, and Green's book is Cracks, set in a dystopian society with mind reading devices and a pretty messed-up ecological system. Many dystopias share the idea of a central lie, making the supposed utopia into a dystopia, and have vibrant settings with huge conflict, which is maybe what makes them so popular. They said it would be nice if dystopian books had an impact on the world through making people think, and this has probably already happened to some extent with some books.
My last talk of the evening was Alain de Botton, in a packed main theatre. He was talking about his book 'Religion for Atheists', where he says that the secular world could learn a lot from the world's religions, and rejected 'the idea coming out of North Oxford' that religion as a whole is a terrible idea and should be scrapped. It was very interesting, and he made some good points including the secular world's emphasis on individuality and cool, dry education and the religious world's emphasis on oratory, community and beauty intertwined with life.
The sun was going down as I walked back to the hostel, casting beautiful silhouettes of the statues along George Street.
Edinburgh Day 2: The Book Festival
My first event this morning was a talk with Garth Nix, but I wasn't quite sure where it was. My plan was to go to a coffee shop and get some wifi (the hostel only has it in certain places, and you have to pay for it) but then I took too long getting ready and ended up using the very restricted Internet on my phone and staring at a street map. Charlotte Square gardens is where the Edinburgh International Book Festival is held, and it's at the end of George Street, the main street in the New Town.
The New Town has a very regular layout, with statues in the centres of the main intersections and beautiful tall Georgian buildings lining the wide streets. I found Charlotte Square and wandered through the festival foyer into the main lawn with its statue and deck chairs, and the tent venues and temporary bookshops around the outside.
Garth Nix spent the first few minutes telling us that, yes, Garth Nix is his real name, showed us all his book covers and talked about the importance of persistence, or 'being too dumb to give up'. He's currently writing a prequel to the Old Kingdom series called Clariel, which will be out next year. He talked about taking ideas and things that resonate, and making good stories out of them, and how Hadrian's Wall had directly inspired the Wall of the Old Kingdom - he saw a photograph with snow on one side of the wall and sun on the other and it started him thinking... He's a very good speaker, although he does like shaggy dog stories.
I met up with a lovely lady for lunch and we had baked potato and salad in the crypt of a church by the botanical gardens, then wandered around the flea market in Grassmarket, looking at all the antiques and bric-a-brac. My next talk was with SD Crockett and Caroline Green at 5, so we arrived back in Charlotte Square for that and had an icecream before going in.
The talk was on dystopias and their popularity today and in the past, as well as their impact on the world. Crockett has written After the Snow, about a boy in a future ice-age UK, and Green's book is Cracks, set in a dystopian society with mind reading devices and a pretty messed-up ecological system. Many dystopias share the idea of a central lie, making the supposed utopia into a dystopia, and have vibrant settings with huge conflict, which is maybe what makes them so popular. They said it would be nice if dystopian books had an impact on the world through making people think, and this has probably already happened to some extent with some books.
My last talk of the evening was Alain de Botton, in a packed main theatre. He was talking about his book 'Religion for Atheists', where he says that the secular world could learn a lot from the world's religions, and rejected 'the idea coming out of North Oxford' that religion as a whole is a terrible idea and should be scrapped. It was very interesting, and he made some good points including the secular world's emphasis on individuality and cool, dry education and the religious world's emphasis on oratory, community and beauty intertwined with life.
The sun was going down as I walked back to the hostel, casting beautiful silhouettes of the statues along George Street.
The New Town has a very regular layout, with statues in the centres of the main intersections and beautiful tall Georgian buildings lining the wide streets. I found Charlotte Square and wandered through the festival foyer into the main lawn with its statue and deck chairs, and the tent venues and temporary bookshops around the outside.
Garth Nix spent the first few minutes telling us that, yes, Garth Nix is his real name, showed us all his book covers and talked about the importance of persistence, or 'being too dumb to give up'. He's currently writing a prequel to the Old Kingdom series called Clariel, which will be out next year. He talked about taking ideas and things that resonate, and making good stories out of them, and how Hadrian's Wall had directly inspired the Wall of the Old Kingdom - he saw a photograph with snow on one side of the wall and sun on the other and it started him thinking... He's a very good speaker, although he does like shaggy dog stories.
I met up with a lovely lady for lunch and we had baked potato and salad in the crypt of a church by the botanical gardens, then wandered around the flea market in Grassmarket, looking at all the antiques and bric-a-brac. My next talk was with SD Crockett and Caroline Green at 5, so we arrived back in Charlotte Square for that and had an icecream before going in.
The talk was on dystopias and their popularity today and in the past, as well as their impact on the world. Crockett has written After the Snow, about a boy in a future ice-age UK, and Green's book is Cracks, set in a dystopian society with mind reading devices and a pretty messed-up ecological system. Many dystopias share the idea of a central lie, making the supposed utopia into a dystopia, and have vibrant settings with huge conflict, which is maybe what makes them so popular. They said it would be nice if dystopian books had an impact on the world through making people think, and this has probably already happened to some extent with some books.
My last talk of the evening was Alain de Botton, in a packed main theatre. He was talking about his book 'Religion for Atheists', where he says that the secular world could learn a lot from the world's religions, and rejected 'the idea coming out of North Oxford' that religion as a whole is a terrible idea and should be scrapped. It was very interesting, and he made some good points including the secular world's emphasis on individuality and cool, dry education and the religious world's emphasis on oratory, community and beauty intertwined with life.
The sun was going down as I walked back to the hostel, casting beautiful silhouettes of the statues along George Street.
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Edinburgh Day 1
There are hills! And cliffs! And bridges everywhere that you don't realise are bridges until you go to the edge and look down - they just seem like normal streets. And there are lots and lots of pointy buildings, you know, with spires and intricate stonework. There's a medieval building just down the road from me that they've built onto in glass, and I really like the clash of the old and the new.
I've probably said this before, but it's strange walking around places that you've heard about but never been to. Sometimes you don't connect where you are until afterwards, and other times you feel you're following in the footsteps of a character or a writer or a king. Street names jump out at you, and you realise that this is it, this is the street where that happened, or in the case of London, one of the actual train stations on the Monopoly board. In Edinburgh, for me, it's been the Royal Mile and Fleshmarket (I've walked through that alley twice today). I've read about Edinburgh in books, and now here it is.
Things I approve of: I can see the sea from the road outside my hostel. Aforementioned pointy bits on buildings. Cobbled streets. Bridges. Tartan, everywhere (the seats on the buses are tartan. Actually, I'm not sure I approve of this...). Bagpipes (they're meant to be here! This is the home of bagpipes!). Cliffs and hills. I'm going to walk some tomorrow, if my itinerary lets me.
I got to my hostel at about a quarter to three, settled in and checked what I'd booked for myself tonight. I'd made the bookings about three months ago, and I couldn't quite remember what I'd booked myself and just how much I have to go and see. The thick wad of tickets should have given me a clue, I guess, but I forgot that I'd booked not one but two things for tonight. And I had to find the Hub by five o'clock, wherever that was.
The Hub turned out to be just down the road from the Castle, and there I enjoyed a lecture about the Classical world's influence on modernity. The lecturer pointed out that classical-style buildings were originally built for a Mediterranean climate, and are actually quite out of place in colder cities. He also talked about the perception that the Classical world was perfect, and the way that it is idealised to contrast against the 'ugly' modern world. Very interesting, especially a bit about how Classical learning and thought has been slowly moving away from the direct influence it had in the Renaissance, to the more removed, subtle influence it has today.
I walked back through Fleshmarket and got a jacket potato filled with vegan haggis for dinner (this is another thing I approve of. I can have 'haggis' without having to think about sheep stomachs). My next stop was a dance production called 'And then, a Thousand Years of Peace' which I absolutely loved. The dancing was incredibly dynamic and emotive, with lots of repetition and percussive movement. The music was strange and rhythmic and built in intensity. Chains fell in silver darts from the ceiling, and there was a long scene in which first the women, and then the men, wrapped themselves in plastic and I was a bit worried about their access to oxygen.
I was trying guess the themes as I watched: love and war, control and relinquishing it, following orders, free will, compromising yourself in the name of your country (they used flags as costumes in a few scenes). At the end the flags were washed and wrung out onto the floor, and then two sheep were brought in! Actual sheep, that baa'd!
It was awesome.
I've probably said this before, but it's strange walking around places that you've heard about but never been to. Sometimes you don't connect where you are until afterwards, and other times you feel you're following in the footsteps of a character or a writer or a king. Street names jump out at you, and you realise that this is it, this is the street where that happened, or in the case of London, one of the actual train stations on the Monopoly board. In Edinburgh, for me, it's been the Royal Mile and Fleshmarket (I've walked through that alley twice today). I've read about Edinburgh in books, and now here it is.
Things I approve of: I can see the sea from the road outside my hostel. Aforementioned pointy bits on buildings. Cobbled streets. Bridges. Tartan, everywhere (the seats on the buses are tartan. Actually, I'm not sure I approve of this...). Bagpipes (they're meant to be here! This is the home of bagpipes!). Cliffs and hills. I'm going to walk some tomorrow, if my itinerary lets me.
I got to my hostel at about a quarter to three, settled in and checked what I'd booked for myself tonight. I'd made the bookings about three months ago, and I couldn't quite remember what I'd booked myself and just how much I have to go and see. The thick wad of tickets should have given me a clue, I guess, but I forgot that I'd booked not one but two things for tonight. And I had to find the Hub by five o'clock, wherever that was.
The Hub turned out to be just down the road from the Castle, and there I enjoyed a lecture about the Classical world's influence on modernity. The lecturer pointed out that classical-style buildings were originally built for a Mediterranean climate, and are actually quite out of place in colder cities. He also talked about the perception that the Classical world was perfect, and the way that it is idealised to contrast against the 'ugly' modern world. Very interesting, especially a bit about how Classical learning and thought has been slowly moving away from the direct influence it had in the Renaissance, to the more removed, subtle influence it has today.
I walked back through Fleshmarket and got a jacket potato filled with vegan haggis for dinner (this is another thing I approve of. I can have 'haggis' without having to think about sheep stomachs). My next stop was a dance production called 'And then, a Thousand Years of Peace' which I absolutely loved. The dancing was incredibly dynamic and emotive, with lots of repetition and percussive movement. The music was strange and rhythmic and built in intensity. Chains fell in silver darts from the ceiling, and there was a long scene in which first the women, and then the men, wrapped themselves in plastic and I was a bit worried about their access to oxygen.
I was trying guess the themes as I watched: love and war, control and relinquishing it, following orders, free will, compromising yourself in the name of your country (they used flags as costumes in a few scenes). At the end the flags were washed and wrung out onto the floor, and then two sheep were brought in! Actual sheep, that baa'd!
It was awesome.
Train to Edinburgh
Okay, that was stressful.
I am now on the train to Edinburgh.
I am facing backwards, because people took my seat I booked and they're fully installed with laptops and are not getting off until Milton Keynes. I have some vague idea that that's not too far away.
***
I was right! It was the next stop. But still not particularly close to London. I'm now sitting in my proper booked seat with a table and a window. We're waiting at Birmingham New Street Station until our scheduled departure time, and I've spent the last hour talking to a lovely lady from Northern Ireland who has family in New Zealand and has now left the train for a quilting exhibition (though she told me I wasn't allowed to tell anyone that).
The stress of my day could have been slightly reduced if I'd left the house earlier, but not by much. I got the bus to the tube to the tube to Euston Station and arrived with twenty minutes to spare, but realised I hadn't written down my reservation number, and the email with it wasn't cached on my iPad. I had to access the Internet to get it off my email account, which is supposedly possible at tube stations, but yu,re never in a tube station long enough for the email to realise it has Internet and download stuff. So when I got off at Euston, I was madly trying to load emails and failing terribly. When I got up to the ticket hall I was going to go up to the ticket office and talk to someone, but then I got Internet (after typing in about three wrong passwords/email addresses) and found my reservation number. Success!
So I went to the ticket machine, which, unlike the ticket office, had no line, put in my debit card and my reservation number only to be told that I had to present the original card I'd used to book the ticket.
Problem: the original card I used to book the ticket was later copied and used in Mexico, so I cut it up.
Back to the ticket office. Twelve minutes to spare. Wait in the line, only to be told I was at the wrong ticket office and the right one was up in the main hall (I hadn't realised that this was not the main hall). Run to the main hall. Find the ticket office, with queue of ten people. Nine minutes to spare, and I see a sign that says train doors shut two minutes before departure so it was really only seven minutes to spare.
I asked the ticket man if I could jump the queue, and he said I had to ask everyone in the queue (fair enough, I guess). So I did. I asked every single person if I could go in front of them and they all said yes! One man told me I should have gotten up earlier, but he still let me past.
The man at the ticket desk was very nice and understood my situation very quickly, took down my reference number, looked at my ID and gave me my ticket as well as instructions to get to the platform. I ran all the way and got there just in time, hauled my suitcase onto the train and tried to find my seat. Which I think is where I came in at the beginning of this post.
The train is a Pendolino that sways so it can go around corners really fast, and it will take just over five hours to get to Edinburgh. I'm excited.
Impressions of the Lake District haiku:
Soft, knuckled green hills.
Full brown rivers, drifting mist.
Strangely no lakes yet.
Ooh! And now I've heard the infamous Virgin Train beeping noises, the ones no one knows the purpose of.
And I guess I must now be in Scotland. Only five minutes until our destination... Where did the last two hours go?
I am now on the train to Edinburgh.
I am facing backwards, because people took my seat I booked and they're fully installed with laptops and are not getting off until Milton Keynes. I have some vague idea that that's not too far away.
***
I was right! It was the next stop. But still not particularly close to London. I'm now sitting in my proper booked seat with a table and a window. We're waiting at Birmingham New Street Station until our scheduled departure time, and I've spent the last hour talking to a lovely lady from Northern Ireland who has family in New Zealand and has now left the train for a quilting exhibition (though she told me I wasn't allowed to tell anyone that).
The stress of my day could have been slightly reduced if I'd left the house earlier, but not by much. I got the bus to the tube to the tube to Euston Station and arrived with twenty minutes to spare, but realised I hadn't written down my reservation number, and the email with it wasn't cached on my iPad. I had to access the Internet to get it off my email account, which is supposedly possible at tube stations, but yu,re never in a tube station long enough for the email to realise it has Internet and download stuff. So when I got off at Euston, I was madly trying to load emails and failing terribly. When I got up to the ticket hall I was going to go up to the ticket office and talk to someone, but then I got Internet (after typing in about three wrong passwords/email addresses) and found my reservation number. Success!
So I went to the ticket machine, which, unlike the ticket office, had no line, put in my debit card and my reservation number only to be told that I had to present the original card I'd used to book the ticket.
Problem: the original card I used to book the ticket was later copied and used in Mexico, so I cut it up.
Back to the ticket office. Twelve minutes to spare. Wait in the line, only to be told I was at the wrong ticket office and the right one was up in the main hall (I hadn't realised that this was not the main hall). Run to the main hall. Find the ticket office, with queue of ten people. Nine minutes to spare, and I see a sign that says train doors shut two minutes before departure so it was really only seven minutes to spare.
I asked the ticket man if I could jump the queue, and he said I had to ask everyone in the queue (fair enough, I guess). So I did. I asked every single person if I could go in front of them and they all said yes! One man told me I should have gotten up earlier, but he still let me past.
The man at the ticket desk was very nice and understood my situation very quickly, took down my reference number, looked at my ID and gave me my ticket as well as instructions to get to the platform. I ran all the way and got there just in time, hauled my suitcase onto the train and tried to find my seat. Which I think is where I came in at the beginning of this post.
The train is a Pendolino that sways so it can go around corners really fast, and it will take just over five hours to get to Edinburgh. I'm excited.
Impressions of the Lake District haiku:
Soft, knuckled green hills.
Full brown rivers, drifting mist.
Strangely no lakes yet.
Ooh! And now I've heard the infamous Virgin Train beeping noises, the ones no one knows the purpose of.
And I guess I must now be in Scotland. Only five minutes until our destination... Where did the last two hours go?
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