I left Glasgow a little later than expected.
Hannah had planned on making a Sunday trip to Edinburgh with me but later decided her crew wasn’t up for it. A sound, alternate plan was made, and, after Edith’s nap, we were to experience Scottish dancing on the front grounds of a nearby Glasgow museum.
On the walk to the museum, Magnus took a tumble. The dancing outing was then also deemed as an activity the crew wasn’t up for. They needed to go back to the house, and I decided to walk to the train station and go onto Edinburgh. I said good-bye to Hannah and kissed Edith’s sweet baby head.
The train ride from Glasgow to Edinburgh is under an hour, and the trains come every fifteen minutes. My train at three on a Sunday afternoon was completely full.
My hostel was directly across the train station, but it still took almost thirty minutes to drop off my backpack and walk to the castle.
When I tried to buy my ticket for the castle, the woman at the window cautioned against it.
“Come back tomorrow. We recommend at least two hours, and we close at six.”
I’d checked earlier and the last admission was at five, but I didn’t push it. With a hefty entrance fee of £18.50, I rather not rush. I’d see the inside another time.
In the spring of 2013, we thought there was a good chance of landing in Edinburgh after Princeton. It wasn’t meant to be, but the job talks and conferences have given Errol a decent base of Edinburgh knowledge. He gave me specific instructions on what Scotch to try and where to drink it.
I did a lot of wandering around. It’s a pretty magical city.
I found St. Giles Cathedral and went in for their 8 o’clock evening service. I was ready to hear a rhythmic Scottish brogue, but, instead, the service was given by a young man from Arkansas.
When I got back to the hostel, most of the twelve beds in my room were full. Two girls, sitting on the top beds of triple-stacked bunks were chattering in Australian and Canadian accents. I joined in when the Canadian asked about my yellow shoes. It’s fun to trade stories and hear each others’ tales.
Unlike other hostels stays I’ve made this year, it seemed like everyone was going to bed instead of going out around ten. I gave a preemptive apology about having to leave super-early the next day. They were all gracious, but, hopefully, I didn’t wake anyone up this morning.
I took a bus to the airport at 5:20 a.m. The bus stop was conveniently located diagonally across the street from the hostel on Waverley Bridge. Lots of the cities we’ve visited this year have saddled us with airport surcharges on public transportation or have expensive airport train lines. My opinion of Edinburgh inched even higher when the airport bus that runs 24 hrs/day only cost £4.50.
I feel confident I’ll be back in Scotland soon. Hannah cooks for me like no other, and now I can say I love Glasgow and Edinburgh.
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Anne Thomsen lord
Writings on our year abroad.