Royal Botanic Gardens, Edinburgh- the first glimpse

The first book I opened in the library at the Royal Botanic Gardens Edinburgh was:

“It is a piece of weakness and folly merely to value things because their distance from the place where we are born: thus men have traveled far enough in the search of foreign plants and animals, and yet continue strangers to those produced in their own natural climate.” – Martin Martin, 1698, A Late Voyage to the St. Kilda

The old, but poignantly relevant, quote struck a painful cord in my homesick heart. Second thoughts were rife in my mind as I tried to struggle with why I’d decided to travel so far from home.

And then I saw the familiar form of a Metasequoia glyptostroboides, dawn redwood, marking the entrance to the garden and my heart skipped. This was why I was there.

The menagerie of plants I saw in the Scottish Heath Garden, Rock Garden and the other areas I could reach in my brief breaks showed me I still had tons of plants to learn and that was why I was there. I had a purpose and I had time to devote myself to it.

Arthur’s Seat, the royal backdrop of Holyrood Park

One of the remedies for homesickness is hiking and Arthur’s Seat was calling. Holyrood Park is visible from most places in the city, even from the coast of Granton. I’d already resolved to hike it more than ten years ago when I first saw it. Finally, I had a chance to!

After running errands though the bustling streets of the Edinburgh Sunday, I was released to the base of the ancient volcanic hills. Some of them look like old slices of earth that were pushed up millions of years ago. They don’t seem that high, until you see the tiny people climbing all over them.

I assessed how and where I wanted to explore. People had made paths all up the sides of the hills, for better or for worse, besides the main path that lead around the sides of the hills. There was a steep path that quickly ascended the top that was perfect to get to walk along the rim of the rocks and see the city sooner.

It was rigorous, but every brief break was full of breathtaking views of the city. The higher I went the more I could see in the horizon. When I reached the top, I realized I hadn’t reached the top I thought I had. There was a larger mountain, the actual Arthur’s Seat, beyond. A golden valley stretched down below me, so vast the people were even smaller. I saw more hills beyond and more to explore. Yes!

The plants were mostly grasses and flowering herbs on the first hill. Only when I got to the base of Arthur’s Seat did I see trees, and even then they weren’t very tall. Gorse and other shrubs dominated, really. When I rounded the northeastern side of the Seat there were patches of heather all over. Ahh!

I chose another steep path to the top of Arthur’s Sear through a patch of heather. The air smelled like honey and the fuzzy white-bottomed bumblebees were hard at work. Both the climb and the views were dramatic and a couple times I had to remind myself to stop to look at the plants because the way down was straight to the bottom. I took a few breaks to take in the views of the valley below and the land beyond. I was taken aback each time I tried to understand how wide the valley was below. It was like nothing I’d ever seen; so beautiful.

I clambered over the last few rocks and found a path to the top of the mount. The rocks were smooth and slippery from the thousands of people who’d walked over them. I found a seat on the edge looking to the north so I could see over the city to the Highlands. The cold wind ripped over the top, but I was still happy to be on top of the world. I was really here.

I am really here.

Left, left, left….but look right: settling into Edinburgh

“Left, left, left….” My cousin and I chanted, as my grandfather pulled out of the rental car place in Glasgow in 2003. That was my first time in Scotland and it was an unforgettable trip.

As I rode the bus from Granton, my nerves were on end as the double decker drove through the narrow streets. On the wrong side of the road. Of which I was reminded of after getting on the bus going the wrong way because I was standing on the wrong side of the road. Again.

And then there was crossing the street. We’ve been told since we were little to look both ways to cross the street. Okay, I’ve got that. But, what I didn’t realize is that in the United States we look left then right, because the traffic is coming from the left. Well, here it isn’t.

There are thousands of people from all over Europe and Asia here for the festivals, so it’s been hard to gauge the normal Edinburgh society. Throngs of tourists have flooded the streets and tourist shops are everywhere in the Old and New Towns. I’m not a native, but even I am tired after a few days. And these poor folks have had to deal with the festivals for the past month. Yuck.

There is a lot of Mediterranean, Turkish and American food and the traditional Scottish food is faded in the background (although there is plenty of fish and chips to be had). And then there’s plenty of whisky to be had too. It’s its own food group anyway. Thinking now though, this is a major metropolitan area, and just like in the U.S., the “traditional” foods of the region aren’t really front and center and readily available to visitors (or are only known by the locals, of which I’m working on). The backbone of the society is dictated by “The Council” and social programs are pretty well-organized, you just have to figure them out! Things are certainly more expensive here and it will be nice to be able to cook for myself.

So, in a way, it’s very much like being in Charlotte: the weather’s similar, the people look similar, there’s a smattering of immigrants, and there is are a lot of options shopping/food-wise; except…..the accents are definitely not the same and it’s in Scotland.

But, traffic and people aside, Edinburgh has been amazing. It is set in a beautiful place, full of beautiful, ancient buildings. Thankfully they thought to save many of them in the 60s and 70s. The view from Holyrood Park is incredible and you can see north to the Highlands and far into the Firth of Forth. I’ve been able to learn the city by walking around and looking around from the tops of the buses.

As an American, I think I can appreciate the architecture more than most of the native folks. Just the other day I went to an art show that was part of the Fringe Festival and it was held in the courtyard of an old, stone abbey and Edinburgh Castle filled the skyline behind it. The Londoner, Irishman and lady from Spain couldn’t understand why I was so excited. Everywhere you look there is history. Even as the bustle of modern society fills in most of the available space around me, and the skillfully crammed buildings of the streets of Edinburgh, I can still appreciate that I am in one of the most beautiful places in the Western world.

The Night No American Could Make Up

So, Saturday night an American, a Londoner, an Irishman and a lady from Spain walk into a bar…

Sounds like the lead up to a bad bar joke. But it was essentially my night.

The Fringe Festival has been the dominant festival for the time I’ve been in Edinburgh. Performers and artists are everywhere, and where they aren’t there are folks handing out bills for shows elsewhere. Most of the Royal Mile has been closed, if not for the Fringe, then for the Military Tattoo at Edinburgh Castle. What a time.

The “best mate” of the gentleman I am renting my room roped me and John into going to Animotion. I had no idea what it was about, but it was supposed to be so good the guy was going to see it again. Heck, why not experience part of the Fringe on my meager student budget? I was in.

John and I met his friends, an Irishman and his girlfriend, who was a lady from the north of Spain, at Sandy Bells, one of the finest folk bars in Edinburgh for pre-show Guinness. I couldn’t believe my ears as we all conversed, holding Guinnesses on the street corner in the center of Old Town Edinburgh. Amazing.

We made our way around the corner to the show after we finished our beers. The wrought iron gates stopped at a large, ancient stone portico where they were taking tickets. As my American eyes took in the gate, the old stone abbey beyond took the cake. The lights suddenly went off and the super moon’s bright light lit the front. Crazy. Until we came around the side of the old church and the Edinburgh Castle filled the skyline. I couldn’t make this up if I’d tried.

After the show, we made it back to Sandy Bell’s and after getting another round of drinks, I pushed our way back to small group of tables closest to the motley crew of musicians having a jam session. Folks from all over Edinburgh and the world played fiddles, there was a handful of fifes, a traditional drum, a standing base, a banjo and guitar. A gentleman from the U.S. had brought a cello-like instrument to play. A small Scottish man had brought a mandolin. By 1 a.m., after much convincing by me for the Scotsman to play the mandolin, there was a homely set of traditional songs being played. If it weren’t for the accents I’d’ve sworn I was in North Carolina.

All was suddenly well.

Animotion, a snapshot of the Fringe of Edinburgh

What I learned as I watched the light of a painter smear oil paints masterfully over the façade of the courtyard of an old stone abbey:

“Art is something that was that will never be again. But then becomes the journey to find it again.”

She brought her paintings to life in vibrant colors and great strokes but then could quickly wipe them away, change them as the musicians created music that was and never would be again. I was able to understand art for the first time in my life.