To introduce my trip to Scotland, I could go with a Scotty/Star Trek reference, maybe some Braveheart dialogue, or even an Austin Powers/Fat Bastard joke. I prefer, instead, to go with a law school flashback:
During my sophomore year in law, in our Negotiable Instruments subject, our professor called on one of my classmates to recite a leading case entitled "MacLeod vs. (respondent)." Now, we don't know if it was because our professor was a terror, or because Nego was an inherently difficult subject, or because our classmate just never happened to come across a Sean Connery movie in his life, but our classmate pushed through reciting the entire case constantly referring to MacLeod as Ma-kleh-od. As in, "Sir, in the Ma-kleh-od case, a promissory note was issued by Ma-kleh-od. . ." The class would have burst out laughing, except like I said, the professor was a terror (although in this case, the professor had an unforgettable look on his face that was part fury, part what-the-f***?)
Needless to state, our poor classmate never heard the end of it 'til graduation. The favorite tease was to re-stage the classic scene from "Highlander" as "I am Duncan Ma-kleh-od, of the clan Ma-kleh-od". Good times.
During my sophomore year in law, in our Negotiable Instruments subject, our professor called on one of my classmates to recite a leading case entitled "MacLeod vs. (respondent)." Now, we don't know if it was because our professor was a terror, or because Nego was an inherently difficult subject, or because our classmate just never happened to come across a Sean Connery movie in his life, but our classmate pushed through reciting the entire case constantly referring to MacLeod as Ma-kleh-od. As in, "Sir, in the Ma-kleh-od case, a promissory note was issued by Ma-kleh-od. . ." The class would have burst out laughing, except like I said, the professor was a terror (although in this case, the professor had an unforgettable look on his face that was part fury, part what-the-f***?)
Needless to state, our poor classmate never heard the end of it 'til graduation. The favorite tease was to re-stage the classic scene from "Highlander" as "I am Duncan Ma-kleh-od, of the clan Ma-kleh-od". Good times.
As you approach Edinburh (tip: if riding the train from London, sit on the right side; better views of the coast), you get a glimpse of the rugged and windswept Scottish landscape that made the clan Ma-kleh-od so proud.
If my classmate is out there reading this, he'll be happy to know that Scotland immediately got its revenge on me. Looking at Google maps, I was confident that my Hotel was just a short walk from the train station, so I waved off any taxi driver that approached me and my bags. What I didn't take into account was that, hello, this is Edinburgh, of course the city is built on steep hillsides! After looking down at my map that said 50 meters to destination, and then up at the slopes above . . . I mean, I know my hotel is on High Street, but come on!
After reaching my hotel (pant pant), I resigned myself to the fact that mountaineer-like ascents are inherently required to get around and see the sights of Edinburgh. And the best place to see the sights and get your climbing groove on is at the Scott Memorial. There are 287 steps, but the 360 degree view at the top is a spectacular reward. Note, however, that there can only be one. . . staircase, that is. Unlike other towers and monuments that have a different set of stairs for going up and going down, Scott Memorial has only one staircase, a skinny-assed one at that. The thing is, there's no one directing traffic from the top or the bottom, so people have to constantly yell out "Anyone going up/down?" into the stairwell. If a group heading up happens to meet a group coming down midway through the staircase...well...let's just say that when it comes to rubbing cheeks with fellow flabby tourists in a lifetime, boundary na ako.
The street-level views of Edinburgh are not too shabby either. There just something immensely mystical about all the stone roads and buildings, not to mention the deep sense of histo . . . hold on. . . zoom in on that last picture . . . did that sign on the left actually say "Cashmere Outlet Store Inside Basement"?
Yes! A cashmere warehouse! Sweetie, the legends are true!
Coldly watching over the entire of Edinburgh is the most bad-ass looking (and located) castle I have ever seen. Edinburgh Castle is known as "The Defender of Scotland". No argument here. I'd remove these pictures right now if the castle asked me to.
Maybe because they're integrated so profoundly with their stone-and-sky surroundings, I think Edinburgh has the best looking collection of street statues in the world (with apologies to Rome, where I've never been).
And if you think Edinburgh is cool in a mysterious and mystical way, wait until night finally drops and the fog rolls in.
The following day, we get to visit Roslin and its biocentre, where Dolly the Sheep was cloned. With its low, unassuming buildings and verdant environs, the whole place reminded me very much of U.P. Los Banos. Roslin is also home to the famous chapel where, per The Da Vinci Code, the Holy Grail once rested. (It wasn't confirmed, but Roslin may have also been where they genetically modified Tom Hanks' hair)
OK, that's it. Pack up. It's done. Finished. The search for the most posh, opulent, luxurious, sosy-looking restaurant in Scotland is over. Say hello to Rhubarb, a few minutes from High Street, situated between some farmland and a golf course, and with unapologetically decadent interiors. I ordered the lamb because, you know, Roslin could easily produce another one.
The Scottish Parliament. For an institution that was born out of so much pride and nationalism, the choice of design was certainly interesting. Apparently, the architect came from Barcelona and died before construction began, so they had to more or less guess at his final intentions.
(cue Seinfeld voice: So what's the deal with Barcelona architects with their funky designs and unfinished buildings? Am I right, people?)
I really wanted to mention that everyone in Edinburgh was incredibly nice: strangers kept on offering to help as I tried to make my way up the streets and stairs with my bags; a simple request at any public desk is greeted with a chirpy "Indeed, we can!". Just a friendly vibe, all around.
That being said . . .
Check out the video above again, paying particular attention to the biker at the end and what he says. As I'm switching off and putting down my camera, I'm surprised to see the biker's face six inches away from mine. He was saying "You better not be f***ing filming me". I matter-of-factly said "No." The biker continued to try to stare me down and repeated "You better not be f***ing filimg me, you f***". I answered, "I wasn't filming you, I was filming him!", pointing to the bagpiper.
Now before you pat me on the back for standing my ground, know that, because of his accent, I honestly thought his first question was "Is anyone following me?". So my first "No" wasn't so much a calm reply as a misunderstood one. It was only after hearing the second and third "f***s" that I realized something may be wrong. But again, I was more perplexed than anything, because I was in a crowded tourist area, on a public street, filming a bagpiper who was earning money precisely by having foreign people film him. Why would I film a biker? I didn't even notice that he was in the shot until he was in my face (and if you look at the film again, it doesn't even appear like the biker sees me or looks in my direction).
Anyway, no harm done. After telling him that I was actually filming the bagpiper, the biker says "All f***ing right then", and leaves. But not before muttering another something that began with "f***".
That much I could understand, in any accent.
(cue Seinfeld voice: So what's the deal with Barcelona architects with their funky designs and unfinished buildings? Am I right, people?)
That being said . . .
Check out the video above again, paying particular attention to the biker at the end and what he says. As I'm switching off and putting down my camera, I'm surprised to see the biker's face six inches away from mine. He was saying "You better not be f***ing filming me". I matter-of-factly said "No." The biker continued to try to stare me down and repeated "You better not be f***ing filimg me, you f***". I answered, "I wasn't filming you, I was filming him!", pointing to the bagpiper.
Now before you pat me on the back for standing my ground, know that, because of his accent, I honestly thought his first question was "Is anyone following me?". So my first "No" wasn't so much a calm reply as a misunderstood one. It was only after hearing the second and third "f***s" that I realized something may be wrong. But again, I was more perplexed than anything, because I was in a crowded tourist area, on a public street, filming a bagpiper who was earning money precisely by having foreign people film him. Why would I film a biker? I didn't even notice that he was in the shot until he was in my face (and if you look at the film again, it doesn't even appear like the biker sees me or looks in my direction).
Anyway, no harm done. After telling him that I was actually filming the bagpiper, the biker says "All f***ing right then", and leaves. But not before muttering another something that began with "f***".
That much I could understand, in any accent.
But it's all good. As you can see, the Scottish have a great sense of humor. Waaaay better than any of our Ma-kleh-od jokes, anyway.
Besides, you can't really get mad at a place that has such a robust karaoke scene!
Besides, you can't really get mad at a place that has such a robust karaoke scene!
