It's that time of year again - that time when I pollute your inboxes with brag-plaining and painstakingly constructed metaphors about how cool the world is. For the newbies to this experience, I offer but one apology, that you've somehow become my friend without reading the fine print on the contract. I write stuff when I travel. Some people like it. I'm sure some of you have used it to teach yourselves how to read. No thanks necessary.
So let's start with the backstory. Thursday afternoon, I discovered that for various science reasons I had to be in Aberdeen, Scotlandall the following week. Feeling inconvenienced, as I'd stepped off a plane from Houma, Louisiana the day before that, I decided to attempt a shady corporate technique, the "lag-cation." I couldn't just fly to Aberdeen Monday and be jet-lagged all week - what if our science things broke? People could be wasted and time could be hurt. Or something. It was imperative that I be fresh and ready to kick ass, so I needed to get the hard flight out of the way early. Like, Friday. And while I'm at it, send me to Edinburgh instead because it's cheaper per night than Aberdeen. To my tremendous confusion this line of rank bullshit was accepted. #somehashtagwouldworkhere
However, First world problems reared their ugly heads shortly thereafter. I spent 5 hours at DFW friday night before being told my flight was cancelled because London-Heathrow can't handle snow. Next flight out is the next day, and is also delayed 4 hours, reducing my Edinburgh tourist time to 6.5 hours. I then made the executive decision to do a double backflip with a half-twist off the sober January wagon. I did not stick the landing. Sorry I'm not sorry.
And now we'll get to the actual meat of the email - Edinburgh! I must begin with a disclaimer - I was woefully hungover for the majority of the journey to this wonderful place, and had only minimal time to peruse the its history. I hope you'll forgive any inaccuracies.
Edinburgh was founded in the 15th century by Mexicans. They erected 3-story townhomes, a castle, churches and whirly-swirly roads in every direction as far as the eye can see, and at night they all look like Diagon Alley. Sadly the Mexicans were chased away by the Protestants in the 15th century, and then boarded the Mayflower to the New World, which was subsequently renamed Houston, where they could continue building.
The construction industry ceased in Edinburgh at this time. NOTHING in Edinburgh looks like it was built in the last 500 years. I'm sure some of the massive street clocks run on plutonium, but the entire city is straight out of A Knight's Tale, which I still haven't seen for moral reasons. Cobbled roads connect the entire city. Even Starbucks' have turrets on top. Also, it's super hilly. No matter how oft-running your ass is, it will be sore if you walk around this city all day. Promise.
Edinburgh (pronounced Ed-En-Bro' like the Sigma Chi's say it) is built around the Royal Mile, which connects the Castle to the hoards of tourists trying to visit it. Very prescient of the Mexicans to organize it so. I walked up and down the RM a few times upon recommendation, and was perplexed by the shear volume of flannel for sale. I guess I should have expected this - flannel is a natural bi-product of the whisky distillation process, after all - but each several hundred year old store front remodeled for touristy purposes seemed more faux-grand and less necessary than the one before it. Just ridiculous. But I bought a scarf because protecting my go-go-gadget neck from the cold was overlooked while packing.
The castle itself is an insane example of complex engineering at its finest, and is older than the combined ages of everyone on this email list. Engineering without calculators, construction without cranes, and stability with no metallurgy. You could tell me the thing could fly and I would only be slightly more surprised. It's amazing.
My second epic fail of the trip occurred while trying to get to a literary pub crawl, a process involving drinking at the pubs where then-anonymous and now-famous authors went to drink away the misery of being an anonymous author. First, to the Mitre Room, where I was informed that the bar crawl no longer works out of there because the pub crawl director told the bar owner to (verb) himself, but why don't you have a whisky anyway? Then to the Scotsman Lounge, where the same story and offer were repeated. Finally I booked a ticket online for the tour meeting at the Beehive, bought the compulsory whisky, and was floored when told that I was the only one who signed up for the tour. My very attractive would-have-been tour guide said it requires 6 or 7 participants to do it right, and would refund my dues. My intuition tells me her boyfriend wisely detected a threat and made her choose, him or me. Some people are afraid of danger and new things. Can't blame her.
So with my evening thusly freed up, I recalled a friend used to nanny here while on an enlightenment binge known as "backpacking." With the address in hand, 4 drinks in my stomach and zero other plans, I left the Royal Mile and decided to check it out. I found several novel ways to travel Edinburgh (got lost), and wound up in the middle of a Cuban Salsa class. I'm not kidding. Back in the day, they all called me "Cuban Salsa Rusty," as most of you know. So, abiding by YOLO n such, I participated and made friends who can't wait to forget me forever. After getting sufficiently down, I rambled on into the night. It was snowing heavily at this point. This was at first cute and endearing, but later made me sneeze and hate the world. Like cats.
Princes Street is an interesting place. It's as if the local interests of Edinburgh want it to be a main drag, complete with shopping and trendiness, but the protective enchantments placed by Aristotle in the 17th century prevent it. This place just refuses to grow modern. Big-name department stores stretch on for about half a mile. Then the Princes area collectively catches a case of the Fuck-its and turns into old adorable enchanting E-bro again. Cobbled streets and tiny pubs rule the town again. It's awesome.
I eventually arrived at the house of nannying and took a picture, then realized that this was A) a completely random place to stop and B) a little creepy of me. People live there. Better go. Fancying a nightcap, I stopped at a bar called Belushi next to my hotel which was playing Sweet Home Alabama as I passed by. I there met two Scotsmen who confirmed everything the world ever thought about Scotsmen. They were crass, vulgar, anti-catholic based apparently on a soccer rivalry, drank vodka martinis, hated Tom Brady, and could not for the life of them carry on a conversation. I understood 1/3 of their words. But they were vastly more entertaining than most vapid prep-school blahblahs I'd be bumping elbows with in Dallas, so it worked. They also had been to Dallas previously. They went on and on about (i think, language barrier) how friendly and attentive the people are. So way to go everyone. High Five.
I'm currently in Aberdeen solving all the science problems of the world. Right now we're finding ways to paint mountains on hot pockets that turn red when they're hot. My word count is approaching the added-up BAC's of the room I'm sitting in, so I'll cut this one off here. There will shortly be another photo album for my Aberdeen portion of the trip as well as another email. Shun the internet accordingly.
Keep it classy everyone. And go to Scotland sometime in the summer. This "cold weather" is for the birds.
Yours,
Uncle Roost
ps - aggressive brunch Sunday in Dallas. I miss my friends.
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