Ello,
this is a fun tale of an eventful day trip into Edinburgh as well as a
traditional Scottish dinner. Enjoy.
Tuesday 5 February 2013
10:26 AM
Tartan Stairs, Dalkeith House
My fingers were tapping impatiently on my laptop bag, as Jess and
I waited atop the tartan covered staircase in the marble hall. Amber had slept
in, which wasn’t like her, and so we were about an hour behind schedule. Today
was a big day for me. We were going to the library to get library cards. In the
words of my brother, don’t judge me.
At about 9:30, the three of us left the Dalkieth house and made
our way into town. The air was cold, the wind was bitter, and a light drizzle seemed
to precipitate out of the air. All and all, I can’t say it was the most
pleasant trip to the South Street bus stop. Luckily we didn’t have to wait long
for the 3 to arrive, quickly swiping
our bus passes and climbing to the top of the double-decker.
The ride into Edinburgh is always nice, although I must say it’s a
wee bit tough to try not to act American on the bus. The Scots are quieter than
a mouse in church when on the bus. When a bunch of Americans come blundering
in, we’re a wee bit loud for their taste. We’re certainly allowed to talk, but
our normal voices are loud and obnoxious by their standards. Amber, Jess, and I
do our best to keep our volume at the Scottish level, but I have to say it’s
very difficult to undo twenty years of training. The three of us don’t often get
a dirty look for it, but there are quite a few others on the trip that aren’t
sensitive to Scottish customs.
We got off at South Bridge, and made our way down Chambers Street
on our way the University of Edinburgh. Their campus is beautiful. As common with
many of the buildings found in the city centere, the exterior of much of the
university is at least styled old in a way that gives the buildings a grandeur
you just can’t find in the US. It wasn’t long before we found the student
centre. We walked into a large room capped by a very gradual glass dome. The
décor of the area was set to something that would belong in a very modern wood
cabin. Along the walls of the room were several other small rooms and shops,
and students sitting and taking amongst themselves. I loved the atmosphere. I
could definitely see myself going to College here.
It wasn’t long before we had found the office in charge of
organizations. It was a charming little room right off the main one with three
women busily working away at computers. One of them stood up to greet us. We
requested a book that listed all the different organizations offered at the
University of Edinburgh. Amber and Jess flipped through their booklets, while I
asked the woman if she knew of any organizations that would be planning a trip
up to the Orkney and Shetland islands. She didn’t off the top of her head but
she pointed to the clubs that might be helpful.
When we were done in there, we decided to pull some money. I tried
to pull 200 quid, but the debit card would only let me pull 100 [the term
“quid” is slang for pounds sterling (£)]. I suppose this isn’t the biggest
deal, but at the moment, I have a few expenses that I need to take care of
soon.
After the cash point (what the Scottish call an ATM), we went to my favourite part the day’s trip, the library. It’s a relatively short walk from
the University to George IV Bridge. Quite by chance, we walked past the
Elephant House before we found the library. We all agreed to stop in there the
next time we were in Edinburgh. We already had a placed picked out where we
wanted to go eat.
We walked up the few stone steps and into the library, and entered
a small reception area before a large room. We told the woman behind the desk
that we wanted to get a library card, and she sent us in the larger room. My
first thought by this point was for the library in the capitol of Scotland this
seemed a wee bit small. I looked around not seeing stacks of old books as I had
hoped, but instead mostly modern looking books. We were at the next desk before
I had enough time to really feel depressed about this.
The man behind the counter instructed us to go back out into the
reception area and take a left (which would have been a right had we done this
upon walking in), from there we were to go up the stairs to the archives. I
liked the sound of “archives.” Now I was getting excited again.
The three of us made our way up a grand staircase – that I hadn’t
noticed the first time I was in the reception room – and into the archives.
This was the most beautiful room I have ever been in. The room was capped off
by an amazing tinted glass rotunda. The centre of the room was filled with
about thirty desks most of which were filled with people of various ages doing
research. Every wall was covered with two stories of books that periodically
stuck out from the walls forming peninsulas on an island of research amidst a
sea of books. The second story book stacks, which weren’t open to the public,
were filled with beautiful old books, thousands of them. I could barely contain
my excitement. I found myself tapping at my brother’s fedora as I held it.
The girls and I spoke to the two older gentlemen behind the
service counter about getting a library card. I handed them my passport, and
after filling out a few forms I now had a library card to the Edinburgh library
system. I immediately began looking for some books on stone circles and Celtic
mythology. I was in the perfect place. Unfortunately, we had a few other stops
to make today, and so I would have to wait until Tuesday before I’d be able to
get anything.
Our next stop was Oink on Victory Street. That was just the next
street over, and so this was a relatively short trip, but on the way to Oink we
passed an interesting looking book store, and so we agreed that we would stop
there after we had gotten a bite to eat. If you’re ever in Edinburgh, I
strongly recommend visiting Oink, for one it’s a restaurant that keeps a roast
pig in view from the front window and for a second thing the food is delicious.
They have three sizes of sandwiches, which get pulled pork and then a few
choices. I had mine with haggis. Ohh was that good, but next time I’m adding apple-sauce. Don’t knock it until you try it.
From there we found a little coffee shop, and I had one of the
best mochas I’ve ever had. It was a wee bit expensive, but very worth it. We
sipped on coffee and hot chocolate as we walked back up Victoria Street to the
book store we had seen on the way in. They girls had gone in first, while I was
finishing my coffee.
As I walked in, I heard the man behind the counter say, “So
relatively new then?” Even though I hadn’t heard their question, I knew they
had just asked if he had any books older than 1859 (my oldest book back home).
This was a very good sign. “Pretty much,” I agreed knowing I was
in the right place. It was a tiny cupboard of a store. However, just as I had
in the archives, I felt awash in a sea of old books. This day could not get any
better.
The man behind the counter sent me towards the back, where there
were a handful of old history books. This was right up my alleyway. I quickly
found a two volume set on British history written in the 1832, but upon seeing
that it was 55 quid, I had to put it back.
After spending a little while longer looking at the books in the
back, the man came up to me with a thin book, also on British history. I opened
it and read the copyright date.
“1759,” I said in an almost breathless whisper. “This book was
printed the year Ben Franklin flew his kite.”
After a while I gave the book to Jess, who said, “If you buy this
book you have to read it.”
“This book is one volume in a set,” I said indicating where
“Volume II” was written on it. “If the set is more than 30 quid, you absolutely
cannot let me buy this,” I said regretting every word.
Amber and Jess nodded, and we went up the front counter and asked
how much the book was. Unknown to me, it was part of a 12 volume set that cost
£300. That was a good price for a set that large, that old, and in that good of
shape. However, I knew there was no way I could buy them. Sighing, I led the
way out of the store, promising to go back. There was likely to be some less
expensive treasures hidden away in there.
From here we took the bus to Prince’s Street, where we visited the
travel centre and mall. It was a short last couple stops, but we had to be
back to the House for a group meeting.
The meeting geared towards community standards, took about an hour
and a half, but it still left plenty of time for me to go back to my room and
prepare for the Burns Supper which was tonight. The dinner was set for 6:00,
which would be a delayed Burns Night celebration (traditionally celebrated on
January 25th). As it got close to 6:00, I began to hear the sound of
a bag pipe from the floor below.
Not wanting to miss anything, I skipped down the tartan staircase
quietly singing to myself, “The pipes, the pipes, are callin… ” There were a few stragglers at the bottom
of the staircase, but it was soon clear that our piper was just practising
After a wee bit, Jess and Amber joined me and we watched Donald (the piper)
practice a bit in the Marble hall. Then we ventured into the dining hall and
took our seats by one of the centre tables. There was a wee bit of small talk,
and then we began to hear the pipes. It wasn’t long before the whole room was
clapping in time with the music. Donald led the procession followed by Henry (our
chef) who was carrying a plate of haggis. He was then followed by Cameron, a
special guest and grounds keeper. The three of them made their way through the
dining hall and to the table at the far corner. Henry set the haggis on the
table and Donald stopped playing his pipes.
After a moment Cameron began to speak:
Fair faw yir honest, sonsy face,
Great chieftain o’ the pudding-race!
Aboon them a’ yet tak yir place
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy o’aw grace
As lang’s my airm.
The Groaning trencher ther ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin was help to mend a mill
In time o’ need,
While thro’ yor pores the dews distil
Like amber bread.
His Knife see rustic Labour delight,
An’ cut you up w’ready sleight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like ony ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm, reekin’, rich!
Then, horn for horn, they stretch an’ strive;
Deil tak the hindmost! On they drive,
Till a’ their weel-swalled kytes believe
Are bent like drums;
Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
Be thankit! Hums.
After he was done, we all held up our glasses. We sat back down
and then gave the Selkirk Grace. Then, Patty began sending tables into the
servery. Patty was sitting at our table, and so we were last to be sent in. In
the servery, we were given a plate with neeps, tatties, and haggis, and then
returned to our seats with a glass of milk.
The recommendation was to have a little of each on my fork. I’ve
never had turnips before (neeps), but I have to say I was pleased. They taste a
bit like sweet potatoes. The mashed potatoes (tatties) were different than back
home. They must use a different type of potato than I’m used to. The haggis was
pretty grand, just a little spice that went well with the neeps and tatties.
A ways into dinner, there was the Address to the Lassies. Casey
led it, and after a minute or two the guys stood up and toasted the Lassies.
Then Myranda led the Response from the Lassies, in which all the other girls
stood up and toasted us Lads.
We finished with dessert and then put our plates away, slowly
migrating to the marble hall. Here we formed a large circle. Holding hands and
swinging our arms out of sync and rhythm, we finished the Supper with Auld Lang
Syne.
Cheers!
-Anth
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