We got started with a nice breakfast sandwich in a local cafe, then a trip up from the grassmarket area of Edinburgh to the Royal Mile, where Cas gallantly repeated his recently acquired information from the previous day’s tour. He told me many stories and facts from the charismatic guide he’d had the day before. I learned all about a local locksmith from way back whose side business involved secretly copying the keys of the wealthy and stealing from their homes. He told me about a female surgeon who was something of pioneer. He showed me the writer’s museum, and in a bit of a coup, he walked with me to the ticket collection area of Edinburgh Castle with yesterday’s tickets, explained how we missed our time because I was very ill, and how we’d love to just look around. I think the lady taking tickets was a little exasperated by the line forming behind us as he explained everything, and I think she was sympathetic. She said, in a perfect Scottish Brogue, “Just go ahead and go.” We thanked her profusely and hurried through the entry gate. It was a terrifically interesting castle, and we had an opportunity to look around for a while. Unsurprisingly, the castle’s height on its Castle Rock afforded some very nice views of the surrounding city. From Castle Rock, we worked our way back down to the hotel, gathered our things and checked out. I am almost back to my usual tourist level of energy, but not so much that I was ready to brave hills and traffic to march my luggage all the way to the train station. It’s not far, but it’s a relatively hilly trek, and I got winded a few times on the myriad Edinburgh stairs. We took a taxi driven by a charming man who explained the children’s parade Cas saw yesterday while he drove. Apparently, once a year, the local taxi drivers decorate their cars in balloons, and drive sick or disabled children in a parade through the city. The kids can shoot water guns at people who are watching the parade, and they apparently have a great time. The taxi drivers evidently take the kids to a beach and then take them home at the end of the day. It seems to be a pretty fulfilling thing for the cab drivers to do, and I think more cities ought to get in on this.
Our decision to head straight to the train station from the hotel was motivated by the hope of a nice lunch in Glasgow. We walked into the Edinburgh train station and found a machine that promised to sell tickets. Two or three button presses later, we had selected one-way to Glasgow, redeemable anytime today. That’s a nice touch- you can just grab the next available ride, or you can take it slow, have a drink or grab something to eat. We decided to get a move on. It was already slightly after noon, and we wanted to check in to our hotel in Glasgow before lunch.
The train was easy to board and efficient to use. I know the bigness of America really does make our train travel more challenging, but we could learn a thing or two from the Europeans.
When we stepped off our train, we were a very short distance from our hotel. Strangely, there are two train stations in Glasgow, and our hotel is attached to the one we didn’t arrive at. No worries, though, we’d had an hour or so to relax in comfy train seats before our walk. When we did arrive, we were about an hour before check in, but they had a room ready for us. The attendant at the desk was talking rapidly, and had such a pronounced Scottish brogue that I had some difficulty understanding him. I told Cas that I needed to listen faster, and he said he did, too. Between the two of us, we got the general gist. Room 341. Got the WiFi password. Know about breakfast. Complimentary cookies (thank you!). Enjoy the stay. Got it.
He also recommended a hop-on-hop-off bus tour. Honestly, since I started the day at a slight energy deficit then added over 10,000 steps before lunch, that sounded perfect. I could learn all about Glasgow while seated on the top of a double-decker bus. We ended up on one with a live guide narrating the information over the speakers, which is great, as neither of us wanted to learn through earbuds. We toured the city, saw the old and new buildings, learned about its history and spent a beautiful late afternoon in sunny Glasgow, which, as our guide mentioned more than once, is a rare thing of beauty.
We didn’t do the hop-on-hop-off like they intended, I’m sure. We hopped on at stop one and hopped back off at the close of the tour. No other hopping was involved. It was kind of perfect. After that, we stopped for a quick drink and an opportunity to take in a little local color. We sat at an outdoor cafe next to three girls in their 20s, and I could tell they were very obviously all looking at/talking about/checking out the same guy. I told Cas. We tried to surreptitiously see which guy. I think I figured it out- which guy they were all taken with- and I certainly don’t get their interest. Maybe standards are very different for folks half my age. Who knows? I did get a kick out of sitting near them, because they all had fantastic Scottish accents, but one of them started to show off her fake American accent to her friends. Honestly, it wasn’t half bad. With a little coaching, she could sound just like she’s from the middle of Kansas or something.
But seriously, how did I get this far into the day and not mention the Red Hot Chili Pipers? Yesterday at lunch when I was feeling crummy and ordered just a fruit smoothie, we were at a cafe in Edinburgh. They were playing some truly awful music. Two of the patrons finished their lunch and left, leaving just me, Cas and a Scottish man who requested a change of tune. He asked that the waitress put on the Red Hot Chili Pipers. I genuinely thought he said Peppers, and we’d be hearing a rock band from California. Nope. It was a bagpipe band. They apparently play rock songs. We heard bagpipes play Ozzy Osbourne’s Crazy Train, a few songs we couldn’t pick out, and of course, Journey’s Don’t stop believin’. It was unbelievably silly. Cut to about 24 hours later, as Cas and I are perusing a selection of refrigerator magnets in a Glasgow storefront, and there it is again- Journey on bagpipes. I wonder how many more times we’ll hear the Chili Pipers this trip. I certainly don’t want to stop believin’.
And with that, it’s dinner time. I will leave you with this photo of Cas, standing by a cannon at Edinburgh Castle. Cas at the Castle. hehe.
Photos: tinyurl.com/dunlap-pl
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