Edinburgh Journal, April 22, 2016 -- Museum of Childhood, Caz, Sylvia, Haggis

My feet, hips, and lower back are killing me, but I had a great time today. I got to meet Caz at last, and she's lovely. She's been all over the world (originally from New Zealand), putting my travelling to shame. She had a degree in advertising, and works for a well-known online company, managing their social media presence. She also has fantastic hair, coloured in varying degrees of purple and blue. I wish I could get away with that!

We met at the Museum of Childhood, which was cool. I saw a few toys and other items new to me, and the lady there gave us a good impromptu history lesson on the Queen's childhood doll house. There was a replica, which many girls of the time period had, thinking it was the same as Princess Elizabeth's, but it turns out that she had the real thing -- not a doll house, but a miniature play house, with working plumbing, electricity, etc. It would have been a wonderful thing to see, but it no longer exists!

There was an original Punch and Judy set, with dolls! Yes, I realise those were meant for everyone, and not just kids, but it's still a neat thing to see. They were in excellent condition. There were also some pay machines like the ones that debuted in Blackpool fairs in the 19th century. One was a Sweeney Todd murder scene... great for kids! Another I liked what a "haunted house" scene with moving skeletons, ghosts, etc. It would have been a scary thing for children to see back in that time period, and awe-inspiring, in terms of mechanics, for adults. We spent a good amount of time talking about the artistry of the doll houses, and other toys. It's really become a lost artform with mass production.

After that, we went to the Toll House and People's Museum -- very interesting, I highly recommend it --, then to the Edinburgh Museum, where we got kicked out at five by a rather rude attendant. Some other ladies, non-English speaking, were trying to ask him a question and he muttered something quickly, leaving them totally confused. Caz was nice enough to actually answer their question properly.

Oh, before that we had lunch and I had haggis for the first time! It was like a soft, spicy sausage. Actually, I like it much better than regular sausage despite the offals. I may have it again before I leave. No neeps (turnips), though, thanks! I'll just stick with the potatoes.

Caz wanted to bring me to a yarn place close by, but we were... sidetracked. We went down Whitehorse Close, which was once used a stables for Queen Victoria's horses, and stopped to take pictures. There was a pretty little door surrounded by ivy, and as I went to take a photo, the door opened. Out came an older lady -- about 75? - with grey hair pinned up in loops on the sides of her head. She wore a dress, a turtleneck sweater, a scarf, and two aprons. There were two cotton, floral arm guards from her wrists to her elbows. She wore "witch's shoes," and held a pot of milky liquid and a bottle of something else.

She started talking to us immediately and explained that she was making a varnish to polish wooden box for her grandchild's christening. She invited us inside to show us what she was doing. We stepped inside and WOW! Every inch of her house was covered in artwork of some kind. Sketches hanging, patchwork on the furniture, paintings everywhere, flower presses on doors, tile work on the floors -- it was never ending. She was an incredible artist! Even the windows and walls were covered in flower motifs -- real, anatomically correct flowers, that you'd see in botany journals. She showed us her clothes hangers -- each one was different. She'd created a doll house to rival the ones in the museum. Each miniature created and sculpted by hand. Electrified as well.

As she took us on the tour, she told us her life story too. She -- Sylvia -- was from Germany. She met her husband, a handsome man as proved by a portrait, in London. They moved to Edinburgh 50 years ago. She'd lived in her art-filled home since 1991. What an incredible woman! She gave Caz a skirt, hemmed at the bottom with knitting. We must have been visiting with her for over an hour. What a strange, cool experience! This is the sort of thing I live for when travelling. Apparently, a lot of folks come to see her -- she's a bit of a local legend we happily stumbled on by accident. She gave us each a card with her picture and address on it. I need to find a card or something when I get back to Timmins, so I can send it to her.

We eventually got out, but didn't make it to the yarn shop in time -- it was closed. We walked around to Arthur's Seat, then attempted to find a place for beer, but everything was packed full, so we called it quits for the day. Hopefully we'll get out for a drink before I have to go!

Tomorrow's plans -- Princes Street, Edinburgh Dungeon, and perhaps another tour.

Edinburgh Journal, April 21, 2016 -- Edinburgh Castle, The Royal Mile, The Writers' Museum, Mercat Tours #1

I kept waking up every hour and a half until about 4 am, but finally slept solidly after that until about 9. After figuring out how to use the hob -- an arduous process involving many buttons -- I made my usual egg and cheese english muffin sandwich. An egg mcmuffin, with healthier ingredients, basically. The cheese I bought yesterday is yummy. I honestly felt a lot better, minus my aching hip from the airport run, and was out by 10:30ish.On the way out of the building there was a young woman with a music case of some sort, who asked me if I knew of a good local cafe -- it was the first of three times I was mistaken as a local student today. Really. I'm not that young.

I went up the Royal Mile, which is something I've wanted to do for over a decade. The buildings, most of which are 17th or 18th century, are beautiful. The stain of several centuries of pollution only adds to the atmosphere of history mixed with modern life. And the Mile really is bursting with life. I stopped at St. Giles Cathedral to get a ticket for tonight's ghost walk, but I didn't go in. I'll leave that for another day. Instead, I went straight up to Edinburgh Castle.

The cobbled streets are hard on the feet, but the view is worth it. As you walk up the hill, the last narrow part of the Mile opens up to a grand promenade, with the gates to the 800 year old castle on the far end. Beyond the gates, the buildings inside continue to rise up, perched on a clifftop overlooking the city. I got an audio tour guide, which was surprisingly loud enough for my deaf ears, and it was good -- I'd recommend it to anyone.

Before I turned it on, I suddenly realised it was the Queen's 90th birthday that day! I rounded a corner, and hundreds of people were listening to a band playing, of all things, the theme to Star Wars! After that, there was an official march of dignitaries and a 21 gun salute. Too bad she was in London -- but Edinburgh Castle is her Scottish home, so... still a cool experience.

I went back to the audio tour. I'll explain the parts that struck me. The Great Hall -- the ceiling is beautifully carved, inlaid oak beams, capped with stone carvings. It's breathtaking. On the other end of the scale was St. Margaret's Chapel -- a tiny building, one room partitioned into two with an altar. The chevron carving in the arch between the two sections is unique and a bit out of place to me, for some reason. It seems to modern, even though it's original. Apparently, the chapel is thought to be the oldest building still standing in Edinburgh.

The POW barracks were awesome -- well-preserved with beds, hammocks, fires, laundry, etc. It gave a real sense of how they lived, which was actually pretty well. I'd rather be a French POW than a Scottish traitor. There were also carved jewelry boxes and other artistic pursuits on display, made by POWs during their time at the barracks. They were extremely talented men, and it's amazing how finely done and gorgeous they were, considering how few tools they had to work with.

The Castle Whisky Shop was packed, and I would have liked to have spent more time in there. Alas, I was only (!) able to sample one -- a cream whisky, which was very good -- and buy a small bottle of their house (err... castle) whisky for Mike. It's only sold there, at the castle!

The place that struck me the most was the War Memorial. It's huge. It gave me chills when I walked in. I can't remember feeling like that on entering a place before. I don't know why. I've been to other war memorials before, but not like this. There were books laid out at every turn, including two for the Canadian Scottish division from the World Wars. I was nearly in tears when I left but, oddly enough, felt immediately better the moment I reached the bottom of the stairs.

On the way back -- after about 4 hours in the castle -- I found The Writers' Museum by chance. It covers the lives of Robert Louis Stevenson, Walter Scott, and of course, good old Robbie Burns. I got to see the Brodie cabinet, too! Thief, yes, but a damn good carpenter. Stevenson wasn't a particularly attractive man, I discovered. I don't think I'd seen a picture of him up until today, but there were numerous photos of him through his section of the museum. It was the first place I'd been that was free, thank goodness. It was well worth the visit.

I ate fish and chips at Biblo's (not Bilbo's) on the way back for a rest. The fish had a funny taste, but not bad. I have made plans to meet Caz at 12:30 tomorrow to go to the Museum of Childhood, wander the Royal Mile, and whatever else we might find!

Okay, off to the ghost walk.

***

The ghost tour was very well done! We had a good sized group of 16. Folks from Denmark, Dublin (talked to a guy named Ronin), and Singapore. The ladies from the latter were freezing, but it was quite nice out from my point of view. Two men from the group were "whipped" at the Mercat Cross Monument, and I was hanged in the old method. Meaning I died slowly, rather than having my neck quickly snapped. Apparently I was a bad victim, haha! There were more histories than ghost stories, but I'm okay with that.

The vaults were cool -- very creepy, but I didn't experience anything unfortunately. We finished the night at a tavern room inside the vaults, where we were given a dram of whisky and told a few more stories. The guide was great! Her name was Camilla and she's in her third year studying philosophy. She's originally from Manchester, so we had a good conversation beforehand, since I've been there. I'll have to give her a write-up on Mercat's Facebook page at some point!

Edinburgh Journal, April 19/20, 2016 -- Air Rouge, Dublin Airport, Surgeon's Hall Museum

(Note: This is not a creepypasta, but an actual journal entry from my trip overseas.)


To be honest, I really don't feel like writing. I feel like going home. It's probably a mix of exhaustion, hormones, and mental illness, but I'm really not happy to be here. I started out yesterday at 2:15 pm -- mom drove me to the airport. I saw K- W- -- my old associate teacher, and the only one still living -- and tried to ignore her. She's nice, but I didn't feel like explaining my job situation. So, guess who I ended up getting sat next to on the plane to Toronto? Mind you, we ended up talking about knitting and crocheting more than anything else, so that wasn't too bad. Still, my anxiety was acting up. It really didn't get any better... only worse.

After settling on fries and a coke for dinner -- everything was so bloody expensive, as usual for an airport -- I discovered a free app to play on the airport iPads. I can't remember what it was called. I won, but couldn't redeem for some reason. Of course. So, I went to buy a couple of little bottles of ice wine and some maple syrup for Caz. I'm worried about meeting her. She seems a lot more outgoing than I am, and I don't think she's going to be terribly impressed with me.

Anyway, I boarded my flight to Dublin. Holy crap Air Canada Rouge is tight! Never again! I barely had enough room for myself, and then came this 6'5"+ guy to sit next to me. I felt sorry for him. I would have felt worse had he bothered to even make eye contact with me. He was... strange. Twitchy. Organizing and reorganizing everything around him. Odd movements. Muttering to himself. And he spent a third of the flight looking like a ghost with the blanket thrown over his head. It was all rather disconcerting, but I think he may have had trouble with flying or something.

It was a night flight, but because of the time difference, we saw dawn at at 2 am, our time. I haven't slept since the night before last, as I write this. I wish I could sleep on planes. Maybe I wouldn't have basically had a public melt down in Dublin if I had been even remotely rested.

***

I got off the plane, which was a bit late, but I figured I was okay with 1.5 hours. How wrong I was. The problem started in Timmins. They booked my luggage all the way through to Edinburgh, but didn't/wouldn't give me a boarding pass for the last leg  because Aer Lingus isn't part of Star Alliance. Which is bullshit, and I tried to argue it, but got nowhere. I was told to pick up the pass in Dublin.

Got to Dublin, and a security woman told me I had to get my luggage (?!?!), go out through customs, again, pick up my ticket, check my bag again, then go through security... then I could go to my gate. I stood for nearly 20 minutes waiting for my luggage, which didn't come, obviously. Asked another security guy, and he said no -- I didn't need to get my bag. It was checked straight through. But, I nee3ded to go to Terminal 2 for Aer Lingus. I was in Terminal 1. So, I ran there to get my ticket. I get in line and ask an attendant if I could make it.

She said no.

That's when I started to panic. She sent me to customer service, who took her sweet time trying to help me, meanwhile telling me that I'd have to run, and even then it was unlikely. I'd have to schedule, and pay for, a new flight. She SLOWLY got me my pass and I RAN. Oh my god did I run. I was in tears and shaking and people around me probably thought I was nuts.

I made it at the eleventh hour. I was the last person and they were literally closing the gate. What a fucking nightmare. On no sleep. At least I met a nice lady and her daughter, from Toronto, who were also on the taxi bus to the flight. She was very friendly and got me talking and calm again. She and her daughter are spending a few days in Edinburgh, then going up to see family in Aberdeen. They're going back to Toronto the same day as I am -- if I see her, I'll have to thank her. She was obviously aware of my emotional state.

***

The last leg of the trip was happily uneventful. Took a cab to the hotel (Richmond Place Apartments), which was worth the twenty quid. The reception was friendly, and the apartment was perfect, and has a full kitchen which is great. I'm writing this part the next day only because I was too exhausted and emotional to continue yesterday. I went out after showering and resting (couldn't nap) and went to the Surgeon's Hall Museum -- I may go back.

It was incredibly interesting, if morbid. I'm sure many folks wouldn't be able to stomach it. The tools of medicine were more my speed, but the human specimens were neat. Creepy, but neat. I by-passed the diseased eyeballs. I'm blinking madly just thinking about them. I wish I could have been able/allowed to take pictures, but given that they're remains of people, I can understand why photography is strictly prohibited. One of the most fascinating sections was on the "grave robbers" Burke and Hare. They weren't really grave robbers, seeing as they murdered their victims to sell their corpses to Dr. Robert Knox. The museum had on display not only the skeleton of Burke, and his post-gallows death-mask with visible ligature marks from the rope, but also a book... bound in his skin. He was hanged after Hare turned on him in order to save his own life then, ironically enough, subjected to a public autopsy.

After the museum, I went for groceries (fitting) at Tesco and settled on dinner from Subway after being yelled at in the KFC. Weird-ass toothless girl who couldn't wait two seconds for me to make a decision. I went back to the hotel, ate, then stayed up until 10 pm (on purpose) to watch "Location, Location, Location" for the first time in years.

I then passed out promptly on the comfortable bed.