Edinburgh-Scotland: “A city of warriors and ghosts“
-From my Scottish Diaries-
20th to 23rd August 2010
Introduction:
The sound of the bagpipes is still ringing in my ears, a relentless march of vigourous repetitive tones hypnotizes me and forces me to put pen to paper. Scotland has made me a prisoner of its wonders. It has dressed me up with a fabric of sensations, with a tartan made of the most representative scottish odors: the penetrating mustiness of antique 1600 houses , the fresh spray smell of its mystic celtic parks, the warm smell of a refuge in pubs mixed with the thick aroma of midday Haggis…
The smell of battles, defeats and conquests. The sad smell of a soldier drinking the last drop of whisky; the unfair smell of the blood from the ones sentenced to public hanging; the helpless smell of tears from a dog eternally waiting for the owner that will never be back…
Friday 20th de August- “Toast with ghosts”
6:00 a.m.: I wake up very early, get dressed and make my rucksack to go out to Barcelona Nord Bus Station. There I will take a bus to Girona’s airport. The day is ok, not too hot, not too cold. Streets are empty. I walk through “Rosselló“ St. until “Serdenya“, then “Provença“ and I turn onto “Sicilia“ St. After a short while I stop walking and take a picture of “Michael Collins” pub.
7:30 a.m.: I am seated on the bus to the airport. The journey takes aproximately 1 hour 10 minutes. It is the first time that I visit this airport. It is small and seems friendly. There are not many people and the check-in controls are carried out very quickly.
9:30 a.m.: I have already been through security controls and I am upstairs waiting for the boarding gate to be announced. It is hot upstairs. To the left side of the hall, there’s a terrace with a bar. Many people are seated and drinking there. I prefer to stay under the air conditioning system. I start to sniff the different sactuaries of imported perfums, (although I never buy them).
My intuition rarely fails: preventing me against the fact that they aren´t going to serve us any food on the plane (the one thing that became true) I go to eat something. I buy a slice of pizza and a bottle of water. I keep walking for a while and at about 11:35 I board the Irish Airlines RYANAIR.
People:
I see lots of people, too many people. Listening people irritates me, particularly spanish people. They gesticulate and gossip too much, they are experts in creating instant bursts of hysteria.
When I listen to English-speakers I take a break. They are calm, quiet, don´t gesticulare nor complain (at least not in a bad manner showing the despotism or grandiloquence).
Once more I feel myself trapped between two very different worlds.
There is no bridge that communicates the embarkment floor with the plane (to my surprise!, I suppose this is to avoid expenses…). They make us go down the stairs and walk for a long time under the burning sun until we reach the airplane.
Finally, the plane takes off at 12:30 midday. I see that punctuality is not respected but they do not delay so much neither. This fact leaves me quite satisfied because I am a puntuality maniac.
I love to observe hostesses and stewards. I look at them all the time. I have always thought of them as special persons. I do not know how to explain it, they seem like wax dolls with a cord inside. Women seem perfect, ethereal… Men are usually gays and very charismatic.
What I still can´t understand is why do they have such an off-centre accent and why do they speak in a sort of English I am sure not even them understand. It is as if they dragged words very quickly and don´t want to make a clear pronunciation.
You end up getting used to it. You understand them after many trips, they always say the same anyway! it’s pretty mechanical! but I still don’t understand why do they get infected by what I will call: the virus of lazy pronunciation, or chronic vague diction.
Business are business:
I can’t believe the things that are sold in this plane. I felt like in a weekend market. The staff sell some sort of cigarrettes with less nicotine (a very weird invention called Smokeless Cigarettes). They also sell a lottery voucher for charity purposes as well as food, drinks, toys and perfumes. Perhaps the funniest thing is that they put a funny tone of clarinets announcing the landing at the end of the trip. An off- voice also says something funny. People end up laughing and clapping. Undoubtedly, although you travel trapped like a canned sardine and there are more lugagge restrictions, you land with a smile on your face!.
Landing:
I arrive at Edinburgh at about 2 p.m. The airport is small and easy to understand. The first thing I do -following some friend’s recommendation- is to buy an IRNBRU (popular soft drink in Scotland) plus a packet of sweets because I need change for the buses. In Scotland and Ireland you need to have the exact change (1.20 p in this case). I go out to wait for my bus number 35. My first impressions are related to the spontaneity of people. After waiting for a long time (I don´t remember how long, but it seemed an eternity to me), a woman-driver comes in the bus 35. Many people get off using the front and back doors. When I approach to get on, this girl tells me -in her difficult but funny accent- that she had to wait for instructions. She needed to know if she should stay or leave. I ask her if she knew which was the nearest stop to “Lauriston Place“ (where I had to get off), and she replies that I don’t have to worry since I could ask the next driver to drop me at the right place. She finally tells me that she has to go to the garage. Another bus would come at 14:50.
Excessive punctuality is not very important in Scotland. The bus arrives later than expected. The trip becomes eternal for me. I am a little nervous because I have made a reservation at a student residence and not in one of the typical places for backpackers. During the journey I ask different people how many stops are left until Lauriston Place. I had already asked this to the bus driver and he had told me he was going to tell me when we were near but I was scared about he forgetting it. All the ladies I talked to were incredibly kind, it is not only the way they do it, it is also the concern they show.
As I arrive to the place, I start to ask pedestrians where was “Chalmers St.”. I find a nice couple of men carrying musical instruments and they reply laughing, we even ask to other pedestrians and we end up in a group of 5 people trying to guess where was the street. When I mention the blood donor centre they play jokes because we are standing just in front. I say goodbye and keep walking. I feel insecure, anxious and tired. I stop a girl and ask her. I do this because I like watching reactions. This girl reacted in a very kind manner. The girl crosses the street with me, takes my booking and read it. We finally find the address.
5:00 p.m.: I arrive at my hostel. I don’t know whether there is a reception. It is a building with different floors. There are 4 individual flats (bed, desk, and bathroom)on each floor. There is also a shared kitchen for each group of flats (kitchen that I didn’t even look at because I wanted to be served in bars and restaurants!).
I am outside of the building and do not know which is the entrance, I fortunately see a guy that is about to enter so I ask him to let me in. After the check-in, they give me the room 28/07/D.
First thing I do is to unpack my things and have a shower. I do it quickly because I want to go to the “Sacred Heart” church in Tollcross area (the neighbourhood that is next to the hostel). The building is also next to the beautiful park called “The Meadows”.
When I am ready I go out to know the place and find the church. When I think I have found the address… I see a beautiful, gothic abandoned church… I start asking again. After a while a lady tells me the right direction. I arrive there at 10 to 6 pm. The mass was just starting… It is the first time I hear a mass in English. I had waited this chance for ages. I didn’t have time in London, in Ireland I didn’t have the right time, so this was the chance. This church was very special to me. The celebration itself is different because people kneel down many more times (not as in Spain where people don’t even kneel down nowadays). There was a moment when I felt that God was there. A peace impossible to describe, a very special energy… I had never felt this in all my life. I felt a deep contact. I went out of the church feeling very relaxed and I started to read the papers, stamps and leaflets that were on a table. The priest came out too and he greeted me smiling: “Hi” (as if he knew me of a lifetime). He stayed there talking to some people. To the right side there was a man… I think he was tied to a chair. The priest greeted him too and started talking.
I went out of the church to continue knowing the place and eat something.
6:35 p.m.: I go to the “Favorit” bar to eat an hamburger and drink half pint of “Kronenbourg” (french sider). I’ll explore the city afterwards with the intention of finding some of the companies that organize city walking tours. I want to go on a ghost tour.
Instead of taking the short way, I take the long one. I walk through South Bridges to arrive at the Royal Mile. After some days I draw the following conclusion: Edinburgh centre is like a town with 4 streets.
Another surprising thing was how people look at you and smile, they make visual contact all the time. What I do not understand is the traffic: when the light becomes red, people cross, it is as if they had a secret understanding between car drivers and pedestrians. It seems the upside world!.
I suddenly stop myself. I’m at a crossroads and a very cheeky man stops his car, (I remember his white hair and his sparkling blue eyes). He takes his head out of the window, with his hands still on the wheel and whistles to me!. Such a long time since someone whistled to me in that way… in front of everybody… I blushed and crossed the street as he left smiling…
When I arrive at High st, (Royall Mile) I turned to the left. Mercat tours were announced there. They offered me 2 tours, one lasted an hour and a half, the other lasted 2 hours (this one included a drink at the end). I doubted… but since I had nothing to do I chose the 2 hours tour.
From 8 to 10 p.m. I went on the “Ghost Tour“. The woman that was going to be our guide was dressed in a black cape. From the beggining it all smelled like a big show of effects. I really wanted to learn history Anyway, I decided to stay!.
The tour guide approached each of us and asked where were we from and if we believed in ghosts, I answered: “I believe in everything…“ and she replied: .“that is a very good answer!“.
The tour starts at “Mercat Cross”, a place used as a meeting point for traders and where public royal announcements were made as well as public hangings. The longest public hanging lasted around 8 hours and it is said that the ghost of that person appears there at midnight…
After an introduction we went just round that place. To one side there is the “St. Giles” cathedral. The lines on the pavement used for parking today, used to be a cemetery!.
(The tour guide plays jokes all the time, she says that she likes some girl shoes, some girl dress and that she likes my hair. Being on the spotlight is not strange to me but I would like to enjoy anonymity sometimes. There is always someone who is going to ask me something about my hair, my origin, the clothes I am wearing… I even remember some ladies that asked me how did I do to eat and not spoil my lips makeup! ).
We finally go to the most important part of the tour: the “South bridge Edinburgh Vaults”, which are located in tunnels built under the XVIII south bridge. They were used for many purposes for 30 years: taverns, refuge for cobblers, workers, homeless people, families and place to hide illicit material including the dead bodies collected by 2 serial killers Burke and Hare (2 irish immigrants) that robbed and sold the bodies for medical experiments. The bodies were required by Dr. Robert Knox, a respected lecturer in anatomy at Edinburgh Medical College.
There weren’t enough corpses to be used as material for dissections and Edinburgh College was very respected. These body snatchers (also called “resurrectionists”) offered 17 bodies as material for experiments.
Our tour guide was a real actress and I can say she told stories in a very theatrical way but I didn’t get particularly scared although it was dark and she tried to scare us all the time. It was like ´too made up´, too much preface and you never got to hear substantial stories.
From the few stories I can remember, the famous ghosts are: a man who killed a prostitute and doesn’t like if someone enters to the place where he left her body; a cobbler, this one seems to be a friendly ghost, a child called Jack, he seems to be playful and teases people when they walk towards him; and a pregnant woman who cries…
The tour guide told us that many people went back home with unexplained scratches or bruises over the body. She said that she had been pushed by a supernatural power in another tour. Then added that these kind of things don’t happen all the time. For example: in our tour nothing happend (apparently…)
She encouraged us to take Pictures all the time. She said that people found strange things on them afterwards.
(there were some round light spots on my pictures, these are called ORB, evidence that there is an energy there…)
At the end of the tour, the ones that had paid more got a place in a sinister table adorned with candles. Gloom… There was a mirror behind us. We were served a glass of red wine and the tour guide told us some more stories and passed us (*)William Burke’s mask.
The tour wasn’t the thing I expected but I did it because I wanted to know the vaults and wanted to have a first contact with the city…
That day I was knackered. Thanks to the sider and the wine I felt dizzy… At about 10 p.m. I went back to the hostal.
(*) William Burke was sentenced to public death and his body was disected for the public eye too. William Hare was liberated and it is not know how nor where did he end up his days…
Saturday 21st August: “Heroes, just for one day“
7:00 a.m.: I get up very early and have a shower. When I am drying myself in front of the mirror in the bathroom, I see a scratch on my left forearm. I can’t believe it. In a second I remember what the tour guide said while my rational side tries to remember where could I hurt my forearm like that. I can’t remember any accidental injury. I keep on drying myself and think… I see another scratch on my back, this one would inexplicably dissapear the following day. Then I see a small rash above my right nipple (hey… I didn’t know that ghosts also liked to have fun! -J).
I get dressed and go out to “The Meadows”, a park that is next to my hostel. There is a long path called “Coronation Walk”. I keep walking there for a long while, I breath the fresh air, see the landscape and take some photos. The weather is perfect. You can rarely see a bike rider or someone walking the dog or jogging. I love being alone surrounded by nature… I intend to get to know the surrounding areas and wait until I can go for beakfast.
I walk from here to “Greyfriars “cemetery, a place that is dedicated to the loyal dog “Bobby”. The story says that the “Greyfriars Bobby” was the faithful companion of a policeman named John Gray who lived around 1856. John and the dog became inseparable friends until 1858, when John died of tuberculosis and was buried in Greyfriars. His dog “Bobby” became famous because he remained at the grave of his master every night until his own death in 1872. Mr. James Brown, old caretaker of the cemetery, told how “Bobby” stayed on the burial mound, the morning after the funeral. The dogs were not allowed to enter into the cemetery, therefore, Mr. Brown chased the dog to get it out, but the next morning, the dog returned. A second time, “Bobby” banished, and he was found in the usual place on the floor shivering cold and damp of the tomb of Gray.
The caretaker felt pity for the dog and allowed him to stay. Even on the most horrible days, “Bobby“ didn´t leave his place, he usually barked to those who tried to persuade him to go with them. Bobby didn’t have a license and he was in danger.
Fortunately, the city major, Sir William Chambers was a dog lover. He was a powerful council chief and decided to pay for Bobby’s license. Bobby got a new collar, the one that is displayed and a brass plate.
“Bobby” was a Skye Terrier. These dogs come from Skye island and are known by their loyalty and fellowship. I take more pictures and go to some bar.
9:00 a.m.: I decide to go to “Monster Mash”. I have a classic english-scottish breakfast: fried bacon, baked beans, mushrooms, fried egg, sausage, toasts, butter and the delicious “Black Pudding”. I drink coffee with milk.
10:00 a.m.: when I finish breakfast I go to the “National Museum of Scotland” but I don’t stay there because I want to go on a FREE WALKING TOUR. I think I’ll return the next day.
11.15 a.m.: the tour starts at High St. I decide to join the English tour. We are a big group of people and from the very first moment I realise that the tour guide is not a serious person. I have that sensation again… I think that he is going to mock us… We waste 3 hours and a half.
The tour begins at Mercat Cross (the place where royal annoucements were made and public executions took place), then we go to the City Chambers (where the council is), the Writer’s museum (dedicated to famous scottish writers: Robert Louis Stevenson, Robbie Burns and Sir Walter Scott) and Bobby’s cemetery. The tour finishes near Edinburgh castle.
The tour was a mockery to me. The guide didn’t have nor the minimum ethics sense plus he seemed a silly chatterbox.
He started asking to some of us where were we from, thing that I do not consider important due to we were there to learn history and historical facts and not to feed him with gossip about our lifes. When it was my turn, I replied: “I am a mistery”. People laughed, so he started naming countries to satisfy his curiosity. He named Germany and then he continued. He chased me like for 2 hours. He interrupted what he was saying to the group just to ask me questions about this. When I finally decide to tell him where was I from, he changes his attitude towards me. He suddenly named a girlfriend as if I was the one trying to hook him up when he started everything. He was really ugly!. Besides he compared my hair colour with irnbru’s colour (I was the centre of attention again…).
I wanted the tour to end. I had done it just to learn how to move in the city on my own.
The city and its people:
Edinburgh is a small city and its people are very relaxed. They are always willing to help and always smiling. You can see nice couples in the streets: men are dressed in kilts accompanied by women. Adult and young couples go hand in hand and seem taken out of a romantic old postcard.
The sound of the bagpipes is everywhere, in corners, in shops, bars …
There is a vast majority of redheads. Many people are disguised and delivering flyers for the Festival on the Royal Mile.
3:30 p.m.: I go back to the hostel and get dressed to go to the “Edinburgh Dungeon”, which is just round the corner of “Waverly” station on Market st. The “dungeon” is an entertainment complex that offers ghoulish fun in different cities of Europe. You can visit the “London Dungeon”, the “Berlin Dungeon” etc…
They are based on sinister representative characters of the country and some actors play a role. Here I have to meet an Irish friend who lives in Glasgow, Scotland.
5:25 p.m.: my friend’s train was very efficient, it even arrived before than expected!.
We met up and went to Princess St.
I couldn´t avoid going shopping so I asked Andy to go with me to a shop where “Kilts” were sold. I went to the kilts straight away and Andy stayed there talking to the shop assistants, according to what he told me later on, they were from Nepal. I entered, took a kilt and asked if I could try it on. One of the shop assistants (tall, exotic olive skin and white turban) took the kilt, bent himself and started to dress me up with it. I asked him if he had a mirror so he took me to the back of the store. After I satisfied my whim, we went to the pubs zone. We saw the “Burke and Hare” pub at Grassmarket zone. Luckily enough I realized that was a strip bar so I said we better kept searching. All the pubs were crowded. It was almost impossible to find a place to sit.
I finally proposed to go to “Frankenstein”, which is a pub built on an old church. As the name says, it is inspired by the monster. There is a show at some point where you can see a cylinder coming out of one wall. Frankenstein lies there and then he wakes up and looks at both sides. It is very funny and people start taking pictures. The music there is also very good. You can hear a scaring music at toilets: there’s a leaky tap, some shoutings and a voice that whispers: “get out, get out…”. It is a true wonderful place.
We drink some bottles of Miller and talk. Unfortunately Andy has to go back home in Glasgow early. I was very tired since I had been walking all day from early morning. I felt like my face was burning. The weather was good but the sun was fierce. I felt a slight sunstroke and the beer got me dizzy. That night I went back to the hostel early.
I said good bye to Andy at Teviot Place…
… And I think of Argentina and the USA, Ireland and Scotland, of the thousands of pubs, of Michael Collins portrait, beers, and talks; faces and poems … in all the places I knew and in all the places he knew. I think of the stupid things we like to say. The silly things we like to laugh about … I think about the distance, I realise the distance is nothing when you take friendship inside. And in my head ring a few lines from a song by David Bowie: “We could be heroes, just for one day“. That’s the miracle…
Sunday 22nd August – “Uncalculated meeting”
9:30 a.m.: I have breakfast, a “Pancake Stack” in a bar called “Mums“. This time I drink tea. One of the guys at this bar is very nice and funny. I still can’t believe the joy of Scottish people, what an example to follow!
Time goes by slowly… I have the same sensation that in London. This feeling relaxes me, it makes me feel that I have more time to do more things…
Later on I go to the ”National Museum of Scotland”. This museum is a beutiful complex of 7 floors that you can’t miss. Floor 0, 1st and 2nd are about “The Kingdom of Scots“ (900-1707), the 3rd floor has special exhibitions, the 4th and 5th floors are about “Industry and Empire“, the 6th floor is called “Scotland: a changing nation“, and the 7th floor is a terrace with views to the city.
In The Kingdom of Scots you can see wonderful objects such as a “Clarsach” (gaelic word to name the musical instrument known as “Harp”). This harp is from XV and it is one of the 3 gaelic survivors from the medieval era. You can also see heavy big guns and stones, the development of scottish dresses, and you can learn some interesting facts, e.g.: the “Brooches” were used to distinguish the social classes.
From 0 to 3rd floor you remain speechless looking at very old objects.
Amongst many other curious things, on the “Industry and Empire” floor there are two statues: one from “Queen Victoria” (who loved Scotland) and another from “Prince Albert”, her husband.
I took a picture of me and the queen, I call it “Victoria versus Victoria”, (the Light that is over the scepter was naturally produced by the camera flash).
On the 6th floor, “Scotland: a chaging nation”, there are contemporary objects and scottish personages. You can see from scottish soldiers honoured during first world war, a poster making jokes of Margaret Tatcher (worldwide hated and used for playing jokes) until the ballet shoes worn by scottish ballerina Moira Shearer, actress in “The red shoes“ (one of my favourite films made in 1948).
You can also see the story and replica of Dolly, the sheep, test a Formula 1 or examine theories and myths about chess.
Besides, there are many interactive zones where you can try an armor on or some old costumes. The entrance is free, there are free audio guides and even free guided tours.
It is really amazing and I wish to have stayed there for a whole week to enjoy it step by step. Staff at the museum are more than nice. I asked a man for the toilets and he walked with me and left me at the toilet’s door (he seemed to escorted me!), plus he talked to me, laughed and so on. (when you are used to a country where people treat you so bad you appreciate the differences a lot!).
After this visit, I went to the “Writer’s Museum”, which is dedicated to three famous scottish writers: Robert Burns (1759-1796), Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832) and Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894).
This museum is located at Lady Stair’s mansion, that was built in 1622 for an Edinburgh trader. This house had many owners until it was donated to Edinburgh city in 1907.
Stairs steps are uneven and doorways are low. Unfortunately, you can not take pictures inside, so I took some outside.
Amongst the writer’s personal objects that called my attention was what Stevenson called “Book of original nosense”, the one which he used to write anything he wanted at any place he was. There is also his baby’s lock hair, his pipes, riding boots and the hat that wore when he lived in Samoa. Many XVIII pictures can be seen, including the house that inspired him “The treasure island“.
I wrote down a quote I liked:
“When I suffer in mind, stories are my refuge, I take them like opium, and consider one who writes them a sort of doctor of the mind…”
This morning I had walked near a tavern called “Deacon Brodie“, name of the man that inspired “The strange case of Dr.Jeckyll and Mr Hyde”. William Brodie was a respected business man, mason member, friend of rich and bohemian Edinburgh people. He also repaired locks and many security mechanisms. He had two lifes: thanks to the contacts he made during the day, he robbed houses during the night. This dichotomy betwen a respectable face and another criminal, inspired the memorable work of Stevenson.
From Sir Walter Scott you can see a chess set, the rocking horse he used as a boy, and his dining table from 39 Castle Street, the printing press on which Scott’s Waverly novels were printed. He had to give his table as a part of payment to his lawyer, John Gibson, (economic crisis 1820).
From Robert Burns you can see the swordstick used while working as an Excise Officer and his writing desk from his house in Dumfries. There is also the original London Herald newspaper announcing his death on 27th July 1796.
The museum has a table full of brochures upstairs. There is one interesting one called “Scottish PEN“ which is a worldwide association of writers pledged to protect freedom of expression. They support writers in prison and minorities.
Afterwards I went to eat my first Haggis near Edinburgh Castle. Against all my prejudices, I have to say that is delicious, especially if the day is cold. I enjoyed it a lot!.
I also did some shopping in between. As an strange remark (for the collection) a guy shouted at me: “You are really scottish“. I was walking, doing some window shop… and I still do not understand why did he say that.
Later on I went back to the hostel, I ordered my stuff and thought about going to eat something and then for a beer to a club called “Espionage”, on Victoria St. This is a very strange club with 5 floors and different types of music. It is like a labyrith full of stairs. Some people love it, some people hate it.
I don’t know why I wanted to enter here. I know that the name called my attention and I had read at some tourist guide books that this was a recommended place. I entered to the place where my instinct took me. I arrived at a darked room with some soft lights where there were people seated. I supposed they were listening to some actor from the Fringe Festival. I went to the bar and asked a half pint of Guinness… I asked the barman whether the show was free and if I could seat there, -“sure”, he replied. I noticed that most of the people were seated at the back of the room. First rows were empty. I took a quick look and I saw many couples…
I decided to have a seat somewhere in the first rows. The comedian was in front of the audience holding a microphone. He welcomes me: to break the ice, he asks me if I had a half of Guinnes in my hand; then he asks my name and the typical “where are you from?”.
-“My name’s Victoria and I’m from Argentina”, said I.
(I don’t remember the exact order of the events nor the exact words, but things follow more or less this way: )
-“Yes, we have the same enemy”, added I.
The guy replied: -“That is because you assume that we are all Scottish but we are actually all English, so you may leave now“. Of course he was joking. Everybody laughed. With a very funny intonation, he added:
-“You have made a full pocker there Victoria”,
There was a complete silence, he stared at me, I broke the silence and said:
-“Anyway…” and he added:
-”Yes, that is, anyway! “.
There was tension in the air and also laughs.
From here until the end of the show he didn’t stop mentioning me (good or bad luck? I was the centre of attention again).
I was very tired and needed to relax… I noticed that this guy dominated the stage very well, he had a very good voice and intelligent lines but I had no idea who he was…
From the moment I arrived, there was a nosense kind of joking. Very english by the way. You end up laughing because situations are stupid and repetitive, you end up hysterical, so everybody explodes laughing.
When the guy was about to end his show, he said:
-“and now I will need someone to help me here and of course, this is going to be Victoria!“, “Victoria, please, come here”.
I went there with him, in front of the audience. He had a box of milk, took out the cap and gave it to me. He started to drink the milk. I looked at his neck, how he seemed to enjoy every drop, he exaggerated movements, The air got tense again. After a while he stopped drinking and asked me the cap back, I gave it to him, he approched himself to the microphone and said:
-“It’s ok, now you may seat Victoria”. People bursted in laughs. That was the end of his show and he said to me that I could relax, that everything was ok and that there was nothing against me. Then he announced his partner, the following comedian. This guy named me in the middle of his act but didn’t make me participate. When the show was over I went to see a street performer on the Royal Mile.
When I went back to Barcelona I checked the names of these comedians at the Espionage venues calendar, ”Max Dickins” (the guy that made me watch him drinking milk & “Sam Gore”, his mate. The show was called “Uncalculated risk” .
I wish to have stayed there drinking more beer but I was tired and went back to hostel early.
I thought this chapter could have been titled “I Shell the blood o fan Englishman” reference I take from a song by the argentinian band „Sumo“, and here are the lyrics, my homage because I can’t stop listening to that song in my head:
Crua Chan
By the left, quick march, Crua chan!
It was seven hundred and forty-five,
the highland spirit had revived,
Mac Dougall and Mac Donald there,
the clans had come from everywhere, singing:
Fee fi fo fum,
I smell the blood of an Englishman,
fee fi fo fum,
come on London, here we come.
We went all the way down south,
we were frothening at the mouth,
coming down to Derby town,
we’d beaten everyone around, singing:
Fee fi fo fumé
We ended at Culloden moor,
feeling bad and feeling poor,
the redcoats had chased us there,
there we died and there we stayed, singing:
Fee fi fo fum, I smell the blood of a Scotsman,
fee fi fo fum, United Kingdom here we come.
We the bonnie prince has gone back home,
he’s never gonna come back.
We’ll do to you at Wembley,
we’ll do it to you in pubs,
with the Scottish louts larking about.
Here come your rats, cruachan lad.
Ø The song is about the failed rebellion against the British Crown in 1745-46
Crua chan: battle cry of the Scottish clans of the Highlands.
Monday 23rd August – “Scottish heroes in Edinburgh and Argentina“
My last day in Edinburgh!. It rained all day… The past days were quite sunny and windy. I have breakfast, coffe with milk and some delicious pastries in a bar at Grassmarket zone. When I finish I go to the “Museum of Childhood”, the one which is strange and it is dedicated to children toys and objects from 1600 onwards. A doll dressed like a nun called my attention!.
Then I went to “Holyrood Palace”, I took a quick look at the “Scottish Parliament”, which was curiously designed by a catalan architect called Enric Miralles (who died before his work was finished).
I went back to the other side and visited the “Museum of Edinburgh”. This one has roman objects, pottery, glassware, silverware from around 1700. The collar and the bowl of Bobby. Many objects belonging to Field Marshall Douglas Haig (1861 – 1928), who led british forces at the first world war.
Something strange happened to me here… I was walking, looking at these objects when I suddenly saw a big portrait of Douglas Haig, I felt he was looking at me, was he alive?… when I went down the stairs ready to leave the place I saw another portrait of him. I had this strong feeling again. A pretty intimidating feeling. My first reaction was to take pictures of both portraits. To my surprise, those pics are not in my camera, they simple didn’t appear, and they are the only ones together with a couple of objects I pictured. They are all missing in my camera. I think that Mr. Haig protects this museum very well… When I went back to Barcelona I searched information about him and I found out that there is a football club with his name in Bs. As., Argentina!.
Then I visited a church (“Kirk” in scottish), which is the stragest church I have ever seen. There is some lines of King George IV outside.
To the other side, there is a museum called “People’s story”, the one which reflects scottish people’s lifes and jobs through the decades. You can see how was a kitchen during the war period, the different jobs that people had. I didn’t know what picture to take so I took one of a punk from the 70s and some interesting posters.
When I finished here, I went to Frankenstein to eat a delicious Haggis that included whisky sauce this time. I went back to Lauriston Place and entered to Sacred Church again. I went to pick up my bag from the hostel and made a quick visit to the “Edinburgh College of Art” which was round my hostel.
I went through the city centre until I reached Waverly station to take the airlink 100 bus to the airport.
I felt pity… I didn’t want to leave this city… but I went back home full of the festive atmosphere and the kind spirit of its people.
… I am waiting to board the plane, Ealing some Cheese Oatcakes while I remember faces, colours, landscapes, flavors…
I say goodbye to all the scottish warriors to the sound of an strident bagpipe that dies at sunset…
