Last thoughts on Scotland—
First of all, my visit was way too short. The Fulton family kept asking why I waited so long to come back, and I really have no idea. The lack of vacation time and travel money which keep me away is pitiful compared to the love and joy I find when I come here.
Yesterday we made a late start to Edinburgh to catch a day of the Fringe Festival. We stopped on the way for breakfast at a tiny Italian dive adored by locals in the know. We all had bacon rolls/bacon baps—which I had been served every day at home—clearly a Scottish/British staple. Basically fried ham on a yeast roll with brown sauce. I'm missing the HP brown sauce already. We were all cash-poor and one of my favorite pics of the day is Remo preparing to pay:
I also stopped for a bottle of wine, which I left at Gordie's hotel with a note inviting him to join us for the afternoon or evening should he be available. Sadly, I do not expect him to get the note or be available—If I were touring Edinburgh for the Fringe I would not be spending the day hanging around the hotel and would not wait until the last minute to get tickets for the good shows. Once we parked (and hey, those Europeans are so much more technically advanced-- you can pay your parking meter via your mobile phone) we made it to the craziness on the High Street/Royal Mile. The city is ABUZZ. SUCH a vibe. There is so much positive and creative energy in the air there were times I expected it to crackle and spark.
However, hoards of tourists can also be unpleasant. We stepped a few paces off the main drag and stopped into Le Sept for a light lunch/dinner. Even though the streets were filled, we were able to camp out on a sidewalk table for pretty much the entire day. Remo, whose parents are Italian, was born and raised in Edinburgh and (mis)spent his youth on this block and in this café. The staff and management welcomed him home and we were very well cared for. So nice to be with a popular local in a cast of a thousand tourists.
This trip was much less about visiting places than people, and I was happy to sit and visit and drink wine and coffees all day with Jan and Remo (and their friends who might pass by) and watch the parade and street performers. In the evening we got tickets to Rayn Pryor's show about growing up with Richard Pryor as a father, a jewish dancer as a mother, both hippies, and being black in Jewish in Beverly Hills. The venue was under the St. George's bridge and deep in an excavated brick cave. Very cool.Final parting shots:
Jan and Remo
A happy Jan
Jan Poses for a Stamp
Catrina and Jan
And one last sign:
Really, can anything be better than haggis?
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