The Lowland Diary, Day 2

I guess I really should call these the Lowland Diary, as Edinburgh is in the lowlands, and not the highlands.

And I think for practicality's sake, the picture-posting may well come later, after I've gone home and had time (hah!). I think that's what I did in Hawaii.

Or at least, I'm not putting any pictures on yet. Maybe I'll have time later. I'll let you know.

On with the day. I think when last I left off, I was between breakfast and the day's adventures.

(Like I said, fair warning, I'm not going to be drunk nearly as much of the time, if at all, so this one may be more of a travelogue than a (mis)adventure journal.)

Today, we started off at Edinburgh Castle, which is up at the top of the hill at one end of the Royal Mile, where we're staying.

One castle. Five gift shops. Two eateries.

No lie. The place also has about a dozen different parts to look at. Very cool. And just knee-deep in souvenirs.

Somewhere, I can hear Stewie gnashing his teeth at the commercialism of it all.

Then it was off to Holyroodhouse Palace, which is still the summer home of the Queen.

The Royal Mile is the mile-long road between the two, and let me tell you, it's steep. Somehow, for time reasons, we managed to take a cab downhill and walk uphill.

My knees are killing me.

Strange bit of trivia. Edinburgh is in a province (or whatever it's called) called Lothian. When I used to play Pendragon, the RPG, my first knight was from Lothian. But I've never been there until now. Back then, I doubt I realized, or could tell from the map, that the forest of Lothian was in Scotland. I do remember my knight was a Celt named Cynon de Lothian, and he could joust better than anything else.

Yeah, been a while since I played the game.

Of commercial note, among what my father dubbed the "schlock shops" that he expects me to spend all my money in, I did find a CD store to look for Scottish music for Marisa, and a Games Workshop store.

Also spotted two Starbucks and a Subway. Some things are ubiquitous.

And soon, off to dinner. My folks have their eye on a Spanish place. I guess when you're in the land of haggis, which is some cross between sausage and a football, you don't eat the local.

Back atcha later. It's 6:37 PM local.

On to the next part!