Seemed to get here without too many hassles. The only drama was being stuck on the plane at Heathrow for over thirty minutes as they couldn't find the stairs we couldn't get off. Naturally we were at the infamous terminal 5! I am not sure how they are going to host the Olympics - no one will have any luggage that is if they even get off the plane in the first place. They will have to revert back to the good old days of nude sports.
Our hostel seems alright - there even appears to be other old people here - really old ones, we are talking 50+. We dumped our stuff and went wandering around the Royal Mile. Apparently the road is longer than a mile but Royal Mile and a Half doesn't sound quite as good. I love all the little side streets otherwise known as closes (I think because they are close together?). You never know what lies down the alley - generally more old houses. There appears to be some pretty cool boutique shops about. I hate having no room in the pack to load up.
Our hostel seems alright - there even appears to be other old people here - really old ones, we are talking 50+. We dumped our stuff and went wandering around the Royal Mile. Apparently the road is longer than a mile but Royal Mile and a Half doesn't sound quite as good. I love all the little side streets otherwise known as closes (I think because they are close together?). You never know what lies down the alley - generally more old houses. There appears to be some pretty cool boutique shops about. I hate having no room in the pack to load up.
To be continued by Jon...
My first impressions of Scotland were of course influenced by what I already know about Scotland, which is substantial. Much of my Scot-knowledge I can credit to several influential characters from contemporary texts such as ‘Charlie’ from ‘So I married an Axe murderer’, ‘Groundskeeper Willy’ from ‘the Simpsons’ and I mustn’t forget our very own Mel’s Braveheart. The fact half the staff of Eastern Health (Box Hill and Maroondah hospitals) are Scottish was of little practical help to me and I won’t credit them. With such learned scholars informing my knowledge it’s a wonder I even bothered to come to Scotland at all – I didn’t need to!
Anyways, several things struck me as my first impressions:
There are more Aussies in central Edinburgh than Scots.
Q. How long must I wait to hear a Scottish accent in Edinburgh? A. Longer than I’ve waited so far.
Q. Why did we book ourselves into a youth hostel? A. Who knows, we are no longer youth and very pleased about that!
From leaving the airport to arriving at our ‘overly youth orientated’ hostel, we heard many accents but none of them Scottish. All the shops, cafes and restaurants were attended by Australians (usually) or some other brand of ‘non-native-Scott’. The ultra-hip-and-grungy-looking permanent-back-packers serving us at the hostel: One an Aussie, the other a Canadian. The ultra-hip-and-grungy-looking permanent-back-packer-type girl selling her ultra-hip-and-grungy-looking coffee table books and related nicely packaged crap (ps Karyn loved that shop): an Aussie!!! And the girl she was discussing her masters’ degree in philosophy with: another Aussie!
Potentially the first Scottish accent I heard was at Biddy Mulligans pub where we ventured for tea. It passed the Berends/Vanderbom test of serving a plate of chips and a burger for less than $20 Australian, add an extra $10 and I happily sipped at a beer while Karyn adjusted the budget. I wasn’t quite sure if Biddy Mulligans was meant to be Scottish or Irish (I’ll study my Simpsons texts later) - it served only international beers with the exception of Guinness and I didn’t wish to draw attention to my ignorance by asking. The potentially Scottish accent was spoken by the red-headed (very grounds-keeper-Willy) barman who correctly took my order for bangers and mash with my beer. I couldn’t be absolutely sure he was communicating using the Scottish version of English due the din caused by the commentary accompanying the telecast of the Euro 2008 match – we mostly communicated using hand gestures, pointing and nodding.
The first accent I can categorically assert was Scottish was not heard until almost 24 hours after arriving in Edinburgh. It was spoken in a kilt shop by a Sikh Indian in full head-wear and traditional dress. I admit I was a little taken back, I was surprised. I had wandered to streets for almost a day and had witnessed the most fluent sounding Scottish spoken by a man that looks more Indian than a vindaloo curry! I was also disappointed at the lack of ‘true-Scots’ in Edinburgh. Have they all moved to Melbourne and been replaced by Aussies and Indians who don’t mind trading good weather for a better value currency. Maybe the Scotland I was seeking lay outside the walls of the old-town, the town that has peacefully been claimed by Australia. Possibly, just beyond the walls in the new town, there are thousands of kilt wearing Scots speaking a language that sounds like English but can’t be understood. Still, it’s good to be surrounded by Aussies when travelling; better than being surrounded by mono-cultural gun carrying tea totalling Egyptians all attempting to separate you from your wallet, some keen (evidenced by their driving among other things) to introduce you to Allah.
Anyways, several things struck me as my first impressions:
There are more Aussies in central Edinburgh than Scots.
Q. How long must I wait to hear a Scottish accent in Edinburgh? A. Longer than I’ve waited so far.
Q. Why did we book ourselves into a youth hostel? A. Who knows, we are no longer youth and very pleased about that!
From leaving the airport to arriving at our ‘overly youth orientated’ hostel, we heard many accents but none of them Scottish. All the shops, cafes and restaurants were attended by Australians (usually) or some other brand of ‘non-native-Scott’. The ultra-hip-and-grungy-looking permanent-back-packers serving us at the hostel: One an Aussie, the other a Canadian. The ultra-hip-and-grungy-looking permanent-back-packer-type girl selling her ultra-hip-and-grungy-looking coffee table books and related nicely packaged crap (ps Karyn loved that shop): an Aussie!!! And the girl she was discussing her masters’ degree in philosophy with: another Aussie!
Potentially the first Scottish accent I heard was at Biddy Mulligans pub where we ventured for tea. It passed the Berends/Vanderbom test of serving a plate of chips and a burger for less than $20 Australian, add an extra $10 and I happily sipped at a beer while Karyn adjusted the budget. I wasn’t quite sure if Biddy Mulligans was meant to be Scottish or Irish (I’ll study my Simpsons texts later) - it served only international beers with the exception of Guinness and I didn’t wish to draw attention to my ignorance by asking. The potentially Scottish accent was spoken by the red-headed (very grounds-keeper-Willy) barman who correctly took my order for bangers and mash with my beer. I couldn’t be absolutely sure he was communicating using the Scottish version of English due the din caused by the commentary accompanying the telecast of the Euro 2008 match – we mostly communicated using hand gestures, pointing and nodding.
The first accent I can categorically assert was Scottish was not heard until almost 24 hours after arriving in Edinburgh. It was spoken in a kilt shop by a Sikh Indian in full head-wear and traditional dress. I admit I was a little taken back, I was surprised. I had wandered to streets for almost a day and had witnessed the most fluent sounding Scottish spoken by a man that looks more Indian than a vindaloo curry! I was also disappointed at the lack of ‘true-Scots’ in Edinburgh. Have they all moved to Melbourne and been replaced by Aussies and Indians who don’t mind trading good weather for a better value currency. Maybe the Scotland I was seeking lay outside the walls of the old-town, the town that has peacefully been claimed by Australia. Possibly, just beyond the walls in the new town, there are thousands of kilt wearing Scots speaking a language that sounds like English but can’t be understood. Still, it’s good to be surrounded by Aussies when travelling; better than being surrounded by mono-cultural gun carrying tea totalling Egyptians all attempting to separate you from your wallet, some keen (evidenced by their driving among other things) to introduce you to Allah.
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