London Blog V

My apologies, first of all, for being so late in posting this next installment of my London blogs; a combination of schoolwork and the frantic realization that I have no more than a week now to do everything I want to do contributed to my negligence. But I believe last time I left off I was headed for Scotland, so I’ll start there. First off, let me say that there have been very few times in my life when I have stepped outside in the middle of June and fantasized about having a fur coat or layer of whale blubber to keep me warm, but such was the scene in Edinburgh as me and a few hardened companions completed a three hour walking tour of the city through rain, dreariness, and, yes, cold. The in hospitable weather did little to dampen my enjoyment of the city, however, and I instantly fell in love with the quaint pubs and shops, friendly people, and striking landscapes all around. Unlike London, Edinburgh feels much more like a small town even though it is actually pretty large, and the architecture and layout of the streets gives you the sense of being in a more rural location. It also helps that just beyond where the buildings of Edinburgh stop, hillsides of rolling green grass meander around in every direction before jutting up here and there into rocky cliffs, making it easy to imagine yourself out in the wilderness somewhere. These cliffs have played a big role in Edinburgh history, in no small part because the famous Edinburgh Castle sits on top of a particularly impressive and intimidating edifice; this castle, for all you Braveheart fans out there, is the one supposed to be represented in the movie, but whereas in real life this bad boy sits looming up in the sky looking down on you, the one in the movie was on a completely flat plane. Not quite as intimidating as the real thing.

            On our walking tour we visited several places with historical significance, but maybe one of my favorites was The Elephant House, which is the place where J.K. Rowling wrote the first three of her Harry Potter books. We also got to tour the cemetery just adjacent to the café that Rowling was said to frequent when writing, and our guide mentioned that many of the characters’ names in Harry Potter can trace their origins to names found on some of the gravestones here, including a one Tom Riddle. I also really enjoyed learning about Greyfriars Bobby: a little dog who, as legend has it, remained loyally beside his fallen master’s grave year after year until he himself passed away. The city loved the dog so much that he now has his own headstone, statue, and pub named after him. The final thing we did before leaving Scotland was hike to the top of Arthur’s Seat which is essentially just one of the cliffs I mentioned before that affords a great view of the whole city. It was incredibly foggy the day we went up, so our range of visibility was not quite stellar, but the combination of fog, countryside, and city was nothing short of poetic still. Without much competition, Edinburgh has been the most beautiful place in terms of landscape that I have visited thus far on my trip. I had a huge moral battle with myself before we left trying to decide if I should get a kilt or not, but I am sorry to say I left the land of the Scots utterly kiltless but nonetheless in love with the city I only got to stay in for two days.

            Next on the docket was to visit the land to which I owe the color of my hair: Ireland. What I couldn’t get over, both in Edinburgh and Dublin, was the hospitality of the people. I guess London had conditioned me to expect minimal and formal interactions with strangers, but both the Scots and Irish seemed ready to offer a smile and easy conversation if you wanted. I was very much reminded of the Southern hospitality from back home. Being in Dublin, we naturally took a tour of the Guinness factory which was actually really interesting, mainly just for the fact of getting to see each step in the process of how they make it. Later that evening, we went to a popular hangout spot, Temple Bar, where we stood packed in a room filled with people listening to some of the most legit Irish music I’ve ever heard. I found out a little bit later that the guitarist playing in the band that night was actually the world record holder for the longest marathon of guitar playing with a ridiculous 114 hours straight. The guy was amazing. I stood with my jaw hanging open half of the time watching his fingers moving faster than most people can think. Great live music would prove to be a theme in Dublin; whether you were in a restaurant or out in the street, somebody was bound to be playing something and singing along, not only that but well too. The highlight of the night, however, took place when I was conversing with an Irishman I happened to meet in one of the other rooms of Temple Bar. At some point, I jokingly asked him “I look Irish, right?” pointing to my hair. He immediately said “Oh yeah, sure,” and ruffled my hair before clasping a hand around the back of my neck, pulling my face close to his, planting a kiss on my check before releasing me with a hearty “Welcome back, brother.” It seemed that I had found my place among my people.

            Skipping ahead about a week, I hopped on a train for a day trip to Oxford. My primary objective in going, and what was for me the coolest thing I did while I was there, was to visit the Eagle and Child pub: former meeting place of the Inklings (C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, and Charles Williams among others) and housing to conversations which resulted in works such as the Chronicles of Narnia and Lord of the Rings. I was surreal to be occupying the same space and walking on the same floors as some of the men that have inspired, entertained, and challenged me like few others have. To try and fathom the hours, days, years of fascination and boundless imagination these men provided me growing up would be entirely impossible, yet here I was sitting in the very building where they sat and discussed the very things that so influenced my childhood and adolescence and still continue to inspire me today. Later, I would visit Tolkien’s gravesite, even taking the time to read a bit of The Hobbit next to the author. I wanted to be able to thank the man in person for creating a world and characters that has brought so many people together and quite literally defined an era of my childhood. All in all, my time in Oxford was one filled with literary nostalgia and appreciation.

            Less than a week. It doesn’t make sense at all to me, but that’s all I have. Here’s to making the most of that time, even if it doesn’t seem like any at all.