Friday: Athens of the North

On this trip there are about three couples from Canada. One mother-daughter pair from Wyoming (SW area, but the daughter went to Wyoming U and they talked to me about Laramie). A surprising number of people are from Virginia.

Anyway. Today we had an Edinburgh guide named Richard, dressed in a kilt, dress-shirt, and tie, give us a tour. The bus swept through a few areas, and Richard pointed out houses were famous people lived---Alexander Graham Bell, Robert Louis Stevenson---and told stories of other Scots, other Edinburgians, Ian Fleming, Tony Blair, Sean Connery, Adam Smith. So many others. We started at one end of the Royal Mile, at Holyrood Park, passing by churches and the Scottish Parliament which is seriously the ugliest building in existence, and Holyroodhouse, and the old abbey, then up the park street. We paused the coach nearish to Arthur's Seat, the volcanic plug, and Richard pointed out the University buildings. From the mental map I have I guessed at which residence hall was mine and desperately hoped I had a nice view of Holyrood Park. From atop the hill, however, the King's Buildings where my sciences classes are likely to be look so terribly far away. I've been told about 20 minutes.
We drove up to near the Edinburgh Castle, and he walked us up the hill. It is beautiful up there! Very windy. At the top are the Scottish Crown Jewels, Mary Queen of Scots' apartments, a very nice memorial to those that died in service in the first World War, and a well-done Prisoners of War museum, of 1800-era. You could see St. Margaret's Chapel, tiny but full of spiritual beauty. A small cemetary where the guards' dogs are buried, including one named Yum Yum. Cannons that are worthless for the defense of a castle, they are ship cannons, but in 18--something--Queen Victoria visited the castle and thought it silly to not have cannons, so up cannons went. The large artillery gun, don't ask me what kind because even the museum dedicated to it wouldn't tell me, that shoots one round at precisely one o'clock every day but Sunday, Good Friday, and Christmas Day. I loved it up there!

We set off on our own, my parents and I, to find my dorm. It was a bit of a hike, and longer than I expected, but we found it. Holland House sits in the back corner, and my wing---C block, like in a prison---borders one wall looking into Holyrood Park. Today was the University's Open Day, like an Open House we suppose, and a lot of Welcomers?--Greeters?--running around getting things prepared for move-in day tomorrow. We walked in towards C block right as a boy Welcomer was, and we asked him if he could unlock my door for me. "Which room?" he asked.
Wow, in America, they would say, "Sorry, you'll have to come back tomorrow."
He unlocked the door. Wow! Wow wow wow. It is nice. It's not fabulous, but it's the best dorm room I or my parents have ever seen. The bathroom is almost as big as the bedroom, although the shower not so, but a private shower? I can't complain. If you looked through the window on a skewed angle, Holyrood is clearly visible and can only be better as winter comes along. I have a wardrobe with hangers already inside, a desk, two small tables and a nightstand, it looks wonderful.

When we left the room we found the kitchenette down the hall: toaster, microwave, electric kettle, and tiny microfridge which I will probably never use. But cool, cool. And coming out of that we ran into the only guy not wearing the University polo. He introduced himself, "Oh, hello, I'm the Warden of C Block. My name is Andrew..." I forgot to tell my parents that the RAs here were called Wardens. Hah. So am I living in a dorm, a hotel, or a prison?

We walked through the dining hall, in the John McIntyre Center. Pretty standard. Upstairs is a very European, very college bar. The walls and floors were dark. Booths on the sides in mostly black leather with some brightly colored tops--green, purple, red---and small tables in geometric circles and squares. Connected, almost outside, are tables to eat at and two pool/snooker tables, but all in a greenhouse. Must be very nice in the winter. And outside completely were more tables.

Lastly, late this afternoon I took a gander through the Scottish Museum of Modern Art, just a hop up the hill from our hotel. Pretty cool stuff. The special exhibition were photographs taken by a man who likes to go on long walks, arrange some part of the nature into a geometric shape, and take a picture of it. Or he might go on a continuous hike following two and a half tide cycles, from near sunrise one day to near sunset the next. Continuous. Or a six-day hike through England following a different direction each time: first due north, then clockwise around a mountain, then down the river, then towards magnetic south, that kind of thing. Or he took a vial of water, carried it from the water's source all the way to the estuary mouth. Really cool ideas I am now bursting to try. Maybe next summer. You all know how much I love walking.
On the upstairs were the usual collections, a room of Cubists, a room of Pop Art, so on. But what I'd never seen in any museum, or not that I'd noticed at least, are the Scottish Modernists. Mostly they seemed to be in a school called the Colourists. I bought a set of six Colourist reprints for only four pounds, a real deal for these gift shops, to help brighten my room. The two ugly posters I can put in the bathroom.