“PAPA! You’re On the Wrong Side of the Road!”
Striking up a conversation with a man I met, on the train or somewhere else, and because the thought still weighed heavily on my mind, where I was picking up any information I could about the appointed days we just left behind. “What’s with the roads here?” I asked.
The reason the States drive on the Right and the UK on the Left is that the French drive on the Right, and as a result of Napolean conquering much of Europe in the not so distant past, we chose the Left. Yep, that explained it. The Salesperson at the Enterprise in Invernes without saying a thing, alluded to the same idea. It is what it is. I still got full coverage and full everything, except for the option to email me every single offer they can think of in about five years. I signed it and left a hefty deposit on the card.
The young woman went out the Sales Room door with me to examine the car. I had the just signed paperwork in my hand. She had a small series of cards attached to a chain around her neck. One card had concentric circles for me to especially make note of, of what they consider body damage. “I’ll be careful, I’ve driven on the Left side of the road many times before,” I said to myself, I lied to myself, and that’s where it stayed as I immediately told her, this was my first time ever doing this kinda thing (and it was).And really, could I possibly muck it up further. She assured me, then she went on and opened the Driver’s door, it’s really dawning on me now, like just before the hammer comes down. So I think, I’m gonna be extra careful. There on the floorboard were the three pedals I was afraid might be there. I’m certain she saw me flinch, for she was quick to reassured me they each served the same function and in the same familiar position as on American cars. And before I knew it, she is gone and Tina and I are inside the car about to enter a roadway with moving cars. We performed like a single unit and before I know it, her Smartphone is barking out instructions, Tina serves as Backup, I’m just Driving! Listening and Driving. The night before I needed to get out and I walked a bit to see the Neighborhood. Crown Circus is a little Community in Inverness, it has stop lights, a restuarant, a couple of Community Artists Shops, where a bubbling culture is on the rise. At least it would be here in the States.
The Smartphone navigated us through the Crown Circus Neighborhood I had walked the night before. I hit the curb on the left one time, but not too hard. And shortly, we were back at the AirBnB. Queena and Sarah were finishing up their getting up in the morning routine. We were getting ready for the big trip, or for me, a test drive with practice. This afternoon we planned driving down to Urquhart Castle on Loch Ness. “Careful,” I tell myself, “I got this.”
Driving on the Left side of the road is not so difficult, you just have to get use to the constant reminders and distractions saying nothing is right. Every knee jerk reaction that keeps you out of harm’s way on the highway has to be consciously mirrored. You shortly get the hang of it without really getting the hang of it. Your comfort zone in driving is shattered; for example, driving from the left side of the car I tend to lean subtlely into the left door for support. In Scotland I discovered that particular security blanket was gone.
Somewhere, along the road between Invernes and Loch Ness, from the backseat, Queena said, “Papa, you’re driving on the Left side of the Road.”
Inverness
Scotland is just over 30,000 square miles. Virginia is just under 43,000 square miles. Day three to take all this in just six days. Our plan is to leave Edinburgh Friday morning for Inverness by train. We then settle in the AirBnB at Inverness for one night. Saturday morning, I will pick up a rental car drive back to the AirBnB gather everyone and with all the confidence of a teenager with their Learner’s Permit, drive on the road beside Loch Ness to Urquhart Castle and back to Inverness. Then on Sunday morning we will travel to the Isle of Skye, hike for the day and backtrack to Portree where we will stay one night. On Monday morning we drive back to Inverness, drop off the rental car, catch the train to Glasgow, stay the night and Tuesday morning catch our flight to London and then back to Dulles. I am just now realizing how much has been packed into this trip. Even now it seems daunting.
The trip from Edinburgh to Inverness is just over three hours. It is raining as luck would have it. We stayed dry the whole day yesterday with sunshine and blue skies. In the night, the rain returned and the UBER dropped us at the train station and we walked through puddles galore. Feeling just slightly more experienced than two days ago, I am guessing our way to the correct platform and the correct train. Our train is on the platform the next level down. I gather everyone and we make our way down the escalators to the level below.
We find our seats and with a steady rain out the windows the train tracks take us along the other side of the Edinburgh Castle. The formidable wall of rock enough to thwart any attack. I remember old movies of fiery oil being poured from great heights down on the attackers below. Once out of Edinburgh, I am anticipate catching sight of Glasgow. But my infant Scottish geography is way off. Glasgow is almost fifty miles away and I won’t catch any glimpses until Monday. As the train leaves Edinburgh further behind the landscape proves more barren than any I have experienced. These hills were carved out in the last Ice Age thousands of years in the past. It is as if we are traveling into a world above the trees and the horizon.
Under the Cover of the Edinburgh Fringe Festival
As luck would have it, (and we welcomed that luck) we arrived at the Royal Mile on the first week of the Fringe Festival. Purely by accident and the entertainment was aplenty, a fraction of what is seen in the following gallery:
Into The Fringe
With an assist from Google Maps we found a walking path from our AirBnB apartment to the center of town. Our point of reference was the Edinburgh Castle. The castle was the center of the day’s activities. We walked towards the canal at the end of our street. It was a beautiful day. Beyond the expectations of the previous night. The weather truly turned on a dime. When we reached the canal we saw several long colorful boats in the water. Beyond a locked gate proved to be the porch for boat owners. There were deck chairs and tables out on the walk along side a number of the boats. The one boat we were able to get close to said it was for rent. A party boat!
Our destination was only about a twenty minute walk by my calculations and we headed in the general direction with any points of reference obscured by the stonework of the historic buildings locking us down.
Our first castle sighting was caught from a casual glance between the stonework of the buildings. It is difficult to describe that initial view. There is nothing short of breathtaking excitement when you see one. We were immediately branded tourists. The path between the buildings dropped down a steep grade and immediately filling the sky was the Edinburgh Castle.
Breakfast of Champions
Back in the apartment everyone had risen from their slumber. I was telling them about my short excursion and now they were ready to tackle the neighborhood and some breakfast. Coffee often came up in the conversation. Taking the stairs down to the street level we exited the door into the bright sunlight. It was going to be a beautiful day and the weather was definitely on our side I was to find out as the days unfolded. We came upon the Magma Cafe just a block from where we were staying. A whiteboard at the entrance along with the notes posted on the cork board promised a delicious breakfast with vegetarian options. We found the atmosphere cozy and the woman waiting on us was kind and welcoming. Tina and I ordered separately while Queena and Sarah shared. Once we ate we planned the day ahead. The first step was to find the Edinburgh Castle. From my earlier exploration I had an idea of the general direction we needed to go. So it was back to the apartment, where we mapped out our path to the center of town.
Thursday Morning 3 AM
Thursday morning I wake before everyone else. This is no surprise, I am spinning between time zones, still riding on a plane over the Atlantic Ocean, it will be another several days before my sleep patterns catch up only to be thrown back into disarray.
I walk into the kitchen of our little apartment. Checking out the appliances I figure the process of making hot water with the electric kettle and proceed to make a cup of tea. By god, we are in the UK and I will drink like the natives. The window over the sink provides the view of all the back yards of the permanent residents here.
It is a beautiful day and I am ready to explore the neighborhood. Last night someone mentioned there is a coffee shop up the street a few blocks. I get the key to the apartment and my camera. Everyone else is asleep as I quietly close the door behind me and make my way down the stairs and out the door onto the street.
Back home, it was not long pass 3 AM. It is when I often find myself awake, with Max the cat digging at the blanket, my feet under the covers. But the day itself was alive and wide awake. It was a good thing too, as the double decker buses were daunting and unexpected surprises as I walked along the sidewalk. I followed the road and made notes in my mind of the buildings and unique landmarks along with memorizing storefronts. In this maze of stone walls, I would not be surprised if I found myself stupidly lost.
Before we left the States, I arranged to have our phones access service if we needed it on demand. So far, only Tina had activated her access. This way we could pull up Google Maps or call out for an UBER if needed. I was consciously trying to not activate the service on my phone.
I saw across the street a coffee shop, Machina Expresso was lettered on the window. I craved coffee and maybe a bite to eat. I had no way of telling if Tina, Sarah, or Queena were out of their jet lagged slumber. I walked into the cafe and looked around. The counter was to the left, a couple of tables were at the front and two more were outside on the walk. There was a back room beyond the counter. Several people were behind the counter; a tall blonde man asked if he could help. I tried to recognize his accent, but I was at a loss. “Are you Scottish?” I asked. No, he was from Italy, but he had been here for awhile. In our conversation, he said, “now both our countries have a clown and a criminal at the helm of the nation.” I had to agree, sorry that now in the eyes of the rest of the world we were on the same leadership level as Italy. A joke. There was a time when I rode my bike in the streets of DC, feeling proud and hopeful, I hadn’t felt that way in almost three years.
I ordered a slice of banana bread and a coffee with room for cream, but milk would have to do. There was nowhere in the UK a person could get some half-n-half. I spoke with my Italian Barista about living in Scotland. So far the only people I had spoken to at length were from Poland and Italy. Edinburgh attracted people from all over Europe. I would eventually find the diversity in this city was amazing and welcoming. From what I could see, they welcomed immigrants into their community. My coffee and banana bread came. Finding an empty table in the back room, I sat. I spread butter on the warm bread, making up for the lack of cream in the coffee. It was quite good and I was feeling comfortable in my surroundings.
Edinburgh, First Night
The train is pulling into the station. It is already close to 10 PM, we have heard from Queena, she and Sarah have made it to the AirBnB. The long day full of uncertainties is beginning to close down. Back in the States it is not quite 5 PM, so we have plenty of stored daylight in our woke bodies. The exit from the station is all up steps and escalators. Tina and I walk out into the opened street, our bags weigh us down. It has been raining and the temperature is in the low sixties. There is an open air resturant and bar to our left. A band is playing Country Roads, “Almost Heaven, West Virginia, Blue Ridge Mountains,” I hope they are not giving it their best shot, for if they are I should join them. I feel for the thumbpick hanging on the necklace I am wearing around my neck. Tina is working to catch a signal on her phone so we can call an UBER to take us to the AirBnB where our party of souls can reconnect. The main drag we are on is four lanes across. A bus stop is in front of us and the traffic on this side of the street is coming from the left. I am already feeling disoriented and at a disadvantage. After much reorienting to receive the best signal, Tina finally catches and signals an UBER who is arriving in the next five minutes. A bus comes from the left and stops. The bus is two stories tall, it is a skyscraper on wheels. Not only that, but it sneaks up on a person from the left out of the blue. This is just not right.
Tina says our driver should be just around the block from where we are standing. I look across the street at what seems like a dangerous foray into the unknown. Loaded down with bags, I am on all alert. But I see a car round the corner across the street to our left, it pulls to the curb and lights flash once or twice. I tell Tina, I think this is our ride. From where we are standing, we are not certain if the UBER would find us or we would find the UBER, or maybe something in between. I cross the lanes of traffic, then come back, uncertain of my next move. I cross the road once more and I tell Tina to follow, with few options beyond blind luck, i believe this is our ride, in a city I have never set foot in and a part of the world I am totally unfamiliar with, this is my best guess, Tina crosses the road with me. At the car the driver asks, “Tina?” and we are on our way. Once again, our luck prevails.
The driver, from Poland, drives us through lit streets telling me about charity shops, “there is one, this whole block is a line of charity shops.” I ask him, because I thought before packing my boots in the States, that I might just buy a pair of boots in a thrift store and then return them before our return home. But in the last minute, I packed my hiking boots nonetheless. (Good thing too). I found out before leaving the states, that the thrift stores are called charity shops in the UK. So I ask our driver about charity shops, just to show I am educated.
The city at night looks like any other city at night. I see a carnival in a field as we drive by. Our driver tells us the Fringe Festival is beginning this week in Edinburgh, is that why we are here? I tell him no, it is just a coincidence, but we plan to see what it is like tomorrow. He says everybody is here for the Festival. It will go on through the rest of August. The driver takes lefts and rights and all from the left side of the road. Eventually he delivers us to a corner where we all believe is the location of our AirBnB. Sure enough, there are Queena and Sarah waiting for us outside on the wet roadway.
We are all together now, the day is nearly over in Edinburgh, while back in Virginia it is still only late afternoon. The last 24 hours have been packed and I am ready for something to eat or drink or both. Our corner of the world, appears to be shutting down. Queena leads the four of us to our AirBnB. It is dark and smells dank; we walk up a set of stairs to the door of our “flat” I am thinking, reaching for the terminology of our new old world. Tina and I take a short tour and put our bags away, it is a relief to finally reach this destination, point B from point A. I am swimming in the accents, comfortable so far with understanding. I am in the wading pool in the world of travel. I am by no means fooling myself.
We decide it is time to check out the food situation. We exit the AirBnB into the damp and dark streets. The street lights cast more shadows against line of buildings along the streets. Shadows even Jack the Ripper could appreciate. Queena and Sarah have already explored the neighborhood shortly before our arrival. We find a possible spot to eat, Tuk Tuk Indian and Street Food , we walk inside. But this place is holding a private party and we weren’t invited. The menu posted on the entrance looked inviting but it will have to wait as a distant possibility in our short stop in the neighborhood. We cross the street and find The King’s Arms that looks like it is still serving. Once inside, I look around and see what must be regular customers warming regular spots. They eyeball the four of us. I ask the woman behind the bar if they might still be serving food. “No,” unfortunately. I make a mental note to check this out later, it looks like they might serve fish n chips in addition to scotch and beer. I am determined to explore the scotch here. We finally stop in an Indian restaurant, The Everest, that is still serving for another thirty minutes. We sit down at a table in the front by the window. The staff happily serve us wine and food and we happily eat and drink. It is all good, but I am surprised how early everything appears to shut down here. Then again it is Wednesday evening and we are on the outskirts of god knows where in Edinburgh, half way around the world.
The Great Divide, Queena & Sarah
Two twenty something year olds can absolutely find their way from one place to another on their own. We just didn’t plan it that way.
After learning that Tina and Papa’s flight had been cancelled and ours had been rescheduled, there was a severe lack of confidence in the future of our travel plans due to our navigation skills. After some hugs and them wishing us luck, we eventually made it through security and onto the plane for the last hour and a half of our trip to Glasgow.
Although we felt a sudden wave of relief after walking off the plane and into the small Glasgow airport, we still had to figure out how to make it to Edinburgh on our own. Walking out of the airport, we laid our eyes on the rows of taxis waiting to take anyone with a credit card to wherever they needed to go. We hopped into the first cab that came to us and met Cornelius (Neil for short). He chatted us up and told us we were making a mistake going to Edinburgh over Glasgow. About halfway through our hour journey we had the pleasure of speaking to Neil’s wife via Bluetooth who told us that he was a bad driver. Thankfully, he proved her wrong and got us to our destination safely. Although we did come unnervingly close to some double decker buses.
Once we pulled up to our Airbnb Neil, who seemed to notice our hesitation on what apartment door we were supposed to go through, asked us if we had the lady’s phone number and called her to determine the correct door. After a little back and forth, Neil hung up and walked our bags to the correct door. We thanked him for good conversation and driving skills, and he thanked us for the £125 bill. After getting the key out of the lock box we opened the door to a much needed shower, and began our adventure.
Later we got locked in that same bathroom, but that’s a different story…
Trains, Planes, & Automobiles
I have always like riding the train. I like how when on the train one can just sit back and watch the scenery pass on the long windows. I like the steady rhythm of the wheels on the track. Passing towns and neighborhoods that are all but forgotten, where the American dream has moved on to another neighborhood, while gentrification is is but a vague future blocks away from the rail. But the first thing I noticed as we began our trip North on the train from King’s Cross was how absolutely quiet this ride was.
The rail cut through green fields dotted with white sheep. The towns we passed or stopped in to let off passengers or pick them up were tidy communities without empty factories or warehouses you see along the rails in the United States. All this view was from the comfort of a quiet ride without the rhythm of the wheels marking irregularities in the rails they rolled on. I later found out the reason for the smooth ride was the British rail moved mainly passengers and with a minimum of raw goods or materials. In American, the trains are mostly for moving cars of coal or tanks of industrial fluids. American trains do not move people as a rule. It is shame, but will likely change as we realize we can no longer support a fossil fuel economy. This English train moved at 125 miles per hour in between stops. The conductor checked our tickets and soon came back rolling a cart of sandwiches, cakes, tea or coffee in the aisle of the car. Tina finally got some food in her while I drank in the treat of the landscape out my window. We were finally on our way. We would arrive by 10 PM. We had no way of knowing if Queena and Sarah had made their flight, all we had was the trust that they too would get to Edinburgh via Glasgow. All that was left to do was to sit back and enjoy the ride.