Today, I finally get to make up for lost time. I woke up at 7am for some reason (nerves likely). Bundling up, I said goodbye to Ben’s Flat (hospitable as it was), and I rucked my stuff down to Pollock Halls, which was about a mile or so. After that, I walked down to Old-Town again with the intent of finally buying a watch, a lock for my drawer, some tea, and a few other odds and ends. It took me a while. I ate a meat pie at a nice little shop called the pie maker, and I couldn’t help but think of “Sweeney Todd.” – “have a little Prince, have a little Prince.” As I sat there eating in the shop looking out on the street, people passing by quite regularly, though not regular people, I wrote the following in my notebook – “I could live here. 
Grimy in its beauty, and beautiful in its grime, noble faces walk amonst it, carved in granite, craggy like the mounds of rock that surround it; Noble faces sitting on mortal bodies, stone hard but with powerful tides of sentiment below: the mountains and the sea juxtaposed together, lochs deep and sky wide open. Perhaps this is the most perfect of places.” When I read Tolkien as a child, I was always drawn to the story of the Wood Elves who, once hearing the call of the sea reverberate in their ears, yearned for it ever after. Likewise, I feel there are three topical features that I love: mountains, lakes, and the sea. The latter is my least love, younger than the rest, but the yearning for mountains and lakes runs deep. 
I’ve found a place where all three coincide.That isn’t to say Edinburgh doesn’t have its problems; it is a city after all. But it feels like a smaller city than it is, and the abundant green and broken horizon is something I’ve done without for too long.
I went to the Writer’s Museum, a place near Market Street that is dedicated to Sir Walter Scott, Robert Burns, and Robert Louis Stevenson. It was interesting, but did not have much literary merit. Most of it was just a collection of odds and ends that they owned at one time or another. It is in an old mansion of Lady Stair Close, a nice quiet step away from Market street and the Royal Mile, which blares bagpipe music from 4-5 different Kilt/Souvenir shops that have the exact same merchandise for sale (I checked them all). I love the sound of the Bagpipes, but the ought to be heard live, and more than one song playing simultaneously creates a cacophony that my mind cannot unravel.
So, I went down to the Sir Walter Scott Monument, where there were live bagpipes playing, and I read for an hour and a half as the weather, impishly, played tricks on everyone. The sun would come out for a flash, just long enough for you to take your jacket of to bask, and the scurry away with a blast of wind that bit to the bone. I learned after the first few times, but the constant turnover of tourists meant that I was able to see the cycle repeated again and again.I’ve taken about 20 photos today, and placed them on picasa. You can click on the slideshow on the right to view them. I’ve captioned them for the I-haven’t-seen-Edinburgh impaired. This pictures aren’t artistic, and I don’t have the zoom I wanted, but I will be visiting these places again, so no big deal.
Quick Addendum: I beleive I am the oldest student here. I will know for sure after 8pm tonight. I ate dinner with a 19 year old, and I couldn't help thinking, you are only 2 years older than my students.
Scottish word/slang of the day
Kip -- "I may Kip on the couch, or catching a kip on the floor, as long as I have a roof and my shirt to lay on, I don't mind."
2 comments:
You already sound wistful about leaving Justin. Your words provoke the image of someone hesitantly planning how to leave their lover.
:)
Interesting. Wistful about leaving here? I think I miss home a bit. It is hard to enjoy this without someone to share it with. I, of course, am well aware that I will need to leave eventually. In many ways, though I may have fallen hard and quick, Edinburgh is a city easy to love.
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