It seems Edinburgh's got the magic. After about half an hour in the Old Town I'm inspired and excited. Circling the streets and lanes with the cobbled stones, looking up at the many towered buildings, feeling the majesty of the Castle up on the hill and the enchantment of the small shops one after the other... A cold wind blows as Saturday's eve falls but I endure.
The wind today is even stronger, although later the spring sunshine warms up the city.
I have a tight schedule. First I'm heading towards the Holyrood Palace, because last time I had no time left to make a visit. Mary, Queen of Scots made it as her home in the 16th century. She said "In my end is my beginning", according to a quote on a bookmark I buy in the Palace's shop. She certainly had no easy life, and to the present day she remains an intriguing figure in history.
My plan to join the "Edinburgh Booklovers Tour" fails. I'm waiting at the appointed place at the appointed time but no one ever comes. So I remain unluckily uninformed about the places, facts and myths that connect to the city's famous writers: Robert Burns, Sir Walter Scott,
Conan Doyle, Robert L. Stevenson, J.K. Rowling. I feel disappointment but make a decision: now I have a good reason to return again in the future!
So what do I do instead? Spend time choosing CDs with the help of a well-informed salesman in a shop specialized in folk and world music. Wander around in the National Galleries of Scotland until I really have to sit down, my feet demand a break.
Then I feel hunger coming... Fortunately I remember from last evening that there are some very promising food stands near Princess Street. The sellers came from France and offer wonderfully smelling dishes. I choose one which is a mixture of potatoes, mushrooms, peppers, onion, cream and cheese. I think the name of the dish starts with a T, although I'm not sure. I eat it on a bench in the Princess Street Gardens in the sunshine, seagulls crying in the background. I'm in Edinburgh but the taste "transports" me to some small French town - if I were Joanne Harris I could start a brand new book right here.
As the crown on top of all I'm attending a concert later at St. Giles Cathedral. Sundays at Six, they call it, because there's one each Sunday. The musicians of the Edinburgh Academy this time, give me a satisfying musical experience.
Tomorrow morning I'll still have enough time to have coffee at the Elephant House and glance at the colorful site of the shops (one blue, the other green, still another orange).
Edinburgh, I'll keep you in my memory's special chest...!
The wind today is even stronger, although later the spring sunshine warms up the city.
I have a tight schedule. First I'm heading towards the Holyrood Palace, because last time I had no time left to make a visit. Mary, Queen of Scots made it as her home in the 16th century. She said "In my end is my beginning", according to a quote on a bookmark I buy in the Palace's shop. She certainly had no easy life, and to the present day she remains an intriguing figure in history.
My plan to join the "Edinburgh Booklovers Tour" fails. I'm waiting at the appointed place at the appointed time but no one ever comes. So I remain unluckily uninformed about the places, facts and myths that connect to the city's famous writers: Robert Burns, Sir Walter Scott,
Conan Doyle, Robert L. Stevenson, J.K. Rowling. I feel disappointment but make a decision: now I have a good reason to return again in the future!
So what do I do instead? Spend time choosing CDs with the help of a well-informed salesman in a shop specialized in folk and world music. Wander around in the National Galleries of Scotland until I really have to sit down, my feet demand a break.
Then I feel hunger coming... Fortunately I remember from last evening that there are some very promising food stands near Princess Street. The sellers came from France and offer wonderfully smelling dishes. I choose one which is a mixture of potatoes, mushrooms, peppers, onion, cream and cheese. I think the name of the dish starts with a T, although I'm not sure. I eat it on a bench in the Princess Street Gardens in the sunshine, seagulls crying in the background. I'm in Edinburgh but the taste "transports" me to some small French town - if I were Joanne Harris I could start a brand new book right here.
As the crown on top of all I'm attending a concert later at St. Giles Cathedral. Sundays at Six, they call it, because there's one each Sunday. The musicians of the Edinburgh Academy this time, give me a satisfying musical experience.
Tomorrow morning I'll still have enough time to have coffee at the Elephant House and glance at the colorful site of the shops (one blue, the other green, still another orange).
Edinburgh, I'll keep you in my memory's special chest...!
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