Current Location: Edinburgh, Scotland

This morning, with my cash situation all squared away and my bags more or less packed, I finally got to leave Glasgow.

Not that Glasgow is nearly as bad as I’d originally thought. The "Ghosts and Ghouls" tour of Glasgow last night (not nearly enough ghost stories to frighten me, but still a fascinating tour nonetheless) showed me that there are places in Glasgow which are fascinating and which have great historical interest. I was able, the other day, to wander through Glasgow Cathedral (an amazing place — you should check it out if you ever have a chance) and the Necropolis (a huge cemetary behind the Cathedral), and to check out the Museum of Religious Art and Life, another fascinating museum (Salvador Dali’s painting, Christ of Saint John of the Cross, is in this museum, as are original statues and paintings by artists of different religions from all over the world). I highly recommend both of these attractions.

Still, though, I couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief when I got on the train and it started to pull out of Glasgow Station and start passing through the countryside.

I’d purchased a book at W.H. Smith’s in the train station, Wyrd Sisters by Terry Pratchett, in the mistaken belief that the train would be passing through primarily urban and suburban areas on the way to Edinburgh. I was wrong, of course; I should know better than that, having taken the train up and down the California coast plenty of times. The Scottish countryside — which I first saw while riding with C– from Wigtown to Glasgow — is as awe-inspiring as the Irish countryside.

Edinburgh is a beautiful city, much more how I imagined Scotland than Glasgow. Granted, Edinburgh is primarily a tourist city with tons of tourist attractions and tours, but I admit I’m much more interested in that sort of thing than how Scotland resembles San Francisco or the United States. My old guidebook was geared towards younger people — students and so on — looking for a Europe which is like America, and that’s not what I’m interested in. Edinburgh has the bagpipers in kilts on the corners, it’s got the castle on the hill, and much more of what I’m interested in.

Once I got off the train in Waverly Station in Edinburgh (the train system in Scotland seems incredibly easy to work out, in spite of all of my worries and disaster scenarios), I tracked down an accommodation service to rent me a room in a B&B for the evening. Unfortunately there are no B&B’s within walking distance of the train station, but I was able to find a very reasonably priced hotel just a half mile from the station. Not as cheap as a B&B or a hostel, but you can’t sneeze at a £40.00 room in city center within walking distance of the castle. And with my financial situation squared away, I realized I can travel in a bit more style than I had originally thought (though B&B’s are still my preferred accommodation style, not hotels). This is, as they say, a Good Thing.

While in the accommodation center, I also booked myself for a sightseeing tour of the Highlands and Loch Ness (if I spot the Loch Ness monster, I’ll be sure to take a picture and upload it here) that will last all day tomorrow. My plan remains unaltered: two nights in Edinburgh and then a train up to Inverness and Tain (seat of Clan Ross) on Tuesday, but I certainly am not going to complain about what I’m seeing today and tomorrow.

The cab driver who drove me from the train station to the hotel was the friendliest I’d encountered since leaving Ireland; most of the cab drivers I encountered in Glasgow (okay, I only took the cab once, after the walking tour last night — it was a ninety-minute tour at the bottom of the hill that Glasgow is built on, and my B&B was at the top of that hill, and two miles away) were pretty surly. This cab driver here in Edinburgh chatted with me in a very friendly manner the entire drive to the hotel and filled me in on some of the more interesting sites.

Just before pulling up to the hotel, he said, "So what part of America are you from?" I’m quite used to this question; I gotten it from just about every single person I’ve met while abroad, and most people get really excited when I tell them I’m from California (and most of them tell me that they love San Francisco, for some reason). I told him, and then he asked me what I was doing in Scotland and where I was headed next.

"Inverness," I told him.

"Oh, lovely, lovely," he replied. "Gonna see the highlands, are ye?"

"Actually, I’m going to try to get to Tain. My family has roots there."

"Och, Clan Ross, are ye?" he replied with a look of delighted surprise on his face (just about everyone I’ve met in Scotland becomes immediately fascinated and filled with joy when I tell them that my family has ties to Clan Ross, even though I can’t claim blood descent from them myself). "That’s funny," he went on, "you don’t look at all Scottish."

"Really?" I asked. "Well, I guess I’m more Welsh and Irish myself. Most people tell me I look Black Irish."

"Och, no," the taxi driver said in the thickest brogue I’ve heard in Scotland since the Reggae singer I listened to yesterday. "The Irish have red hair and blue eyes, just like the Scots."

"So how do I look?"

"Well, I thought you were Italian when I first picked you up!"

In all my life, I’ve never been told that I look Italian. I’ve been told lots of things; that I look Irish, that I look Welsh, that I look Cherokee (most of those I can find in my ancestry, and I’m quite proud of them all), but never Italian. I was amused and told him that I’d never been told that before.

"Well, laddie," he said, "you’ve been told now."

We went on to talk about tourist expectations of different countries, about how I was hoping to see bagpipes and castles while in Scotland and sort of making fun of myself while doing it. He told me that the Scots are no different. "Aye, we have our own ideas of what to expect when we go to the States," he said.

"And what are those?" I asked.

He thought for a few moments, and then said, "Oh, we’re looking for coffee everywhere and helicopters flying between the buildings in New York. But what surprised me the most about America," he went on, "was that there were guns everywhere. Seems like everyone in America has a gun. You don’t have a gun, do ye?"

I told him that I didn’t own a gun and didn’t intend to. I asked him if anyone in Scotland owns guns.

"Nay," he said. "Not even the cops have guns. Hunters do, but not the cops and certainly not anyone else. They’re totally taboo over here."

At that point we pulled up in front of the hotel and the taxi driver gave me a grin. "Enjoy your stay," he said. "This is the best city in the world."

I grinned, thinking that the cab ride had been a lot of fun, and tipped him well.

"Well, then, I’m off," he said.

He drove away and I went into my hotel to check in and get directions to the nearest internet café. And so here I am. So far I’m loving Edinburgh and I’m looking forward to the castle and to the tour tomorrow.

Be well!