Directionless in Edinburgh


Whenever I've traveled I am a planner. Not in every way, but I've never been one of those people who can just land in a city or town and not know where I will be laying my head for the night. I like to know where I'm going. However, once I know this, I am fairly free rein with where I end up going while there - seeking the path less traveled. Just wandering about. Thus, when I was in Florence, Italy I never went to the Uffizi or any of the other galleries. The weather was too beautiful and the city called for a photo safari in its own right. I've only been to the Louvre once, wandering the rest of Paris called me more. This has become my way of discovering a place in my own way.

When I was setting up my arrival in Edinburgh I didn't realize the endeavor it was be to actually find the flat that we had rented. My boyfriend was meeting me after Orkney in Edinburgh and I arranged the schedule to arrive the night before so I could have everything set up. My plan was to pick him up at the airport the next morning... that was until I actually drove INTO Edinburgh. Now had I paid attention to the first night I arrived from the states into Edinburgh and stayed out by the airport, I would have known that this city was literally a mystery wrapped in a cartographers enigma. Columbus would have given up on the new world if he'd had to go through Edinburgh first.

I had driven in UK "wrong side of the road" lands before. The stick shift on the left was a bit confusing, not to mention the penchant for roundabouts (traffic circles) that they seem to have - going the wrong direction. There have been many "Look kids, Big Ben and Parliament" Clark Griswold moments. God knows they can't find a simple left or right turn off a highway with both hands and compass. But getting to the Novotel "by" the airport was ridiculous. I somehow ended up on a private road -- with a gate that I could get into but couldn't get out of... huh? And the hotel was just over there. I could see it but damned if I could actually get there. I tried to sneak through the gate behind another car but the parking guillotine of Scotland was too fast and I nearly started the trip with a nice big dent in my hood. So after backing up a mile and finding a nice Scottish couple (the first of many kind and helpful Scottish people) to give me directions, I finally pulled into the hotel with jetlag and bleary eyes. At the time I attributed my unusual issues with direction to this... I was wrong, it's Edinburgh itself.

Fast forward to arriving in Edinburgh proper. By this time I had successfully navigated to and from Orkney with six hours of drive time each way through the northernmost reaches of Scotland on sometimes the narrowest of roads. City driving... no problemo. So I thought. I missed the first turn into the city and ended up back by the dreaded airport, but since I'd been there before I kinda/sorta knew my way around. But as I drove deeper into the city things got more and more confusing and by the time I hit the center I was stuck in the maze. The signs were in ENGLISH how difficult could it be? VERY! Finally it was a French student at the university that got me to the main section of town. Once I got there I found out, after many shaken fists and a firm berating by a bus driver, that this was an area where only buses and taxis were allowed to drive. So THAT'S what that sign means. Note to self. But once I was there what was I supposed to do, abandon the car on the side of the road? So I kept driving.


When I finally got to the right section of the city and found High Street I still couldn't find the road that the flat was on. I was practical I pulled over again and asked a postman. His answer was, "I don't know, possibly on the other side of the cathedral, but you have to go back and around three blocks to get there." Ok, backtracked and still couldn't get to it. I asked a policeman and he didn't know how to get there. He pointed out a possible way and then said, "Good Luck, Lass." You've got to be kidding me. I was texting Kevin back in the U.S. to help with directions and vent quite a bit of cursing when 1.5 hours after entering the city I finally found the street and the flat. The street ran UNDER the other streets in the area. That's what happens when you
visit a city that's 1,000 years old or so.


Even the winding staircase up to our 4th floor flat couldn't diminish the relief I felt when I finally dragged the last suitcase through the door. No way in hell I was driving out to pick up Kev at the airport... I could end up in Glasgow. I was parking the car and not moving it for three days. That's why God invited taxis.

And I give full credit to the taxi driver for giving us an experience we would never have had if I had managed to find the airport again. On the way over he told me how modern Edinburgh is made up of what used to be very distinct towns with their own personalities. He advised getting out of the center and heading out specifically to one called Dean.

Now my brother's name is Dean and I thought it was be fun to take a picture of a town and bridge with the same name. Once Kev was settled we headed out to see it and what a lovely discovery it was.

The village of Dean, within Edinburgh proper, winds along the "Water of Leith" with a walkway running alongside the river. A former milling town, the houses cling to the sides of the river with soft gardens and stone buildings with small leaded windows. Go around one bend and there's waterfalls. Go around another and you reach the town center looking very much like it fell out of a Harry Potter novel. It is tranquility itself in the center of a very busy city... one you couldn't hear over the babble of the river. The path led us by picturesque homes, and flats with fantastic gardens and eventually to an overpass leading us to the Dean Museum and the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art.


I have been collecting t-shirts from modern art museums for a while and of course had to stop in. The museums in Edinburgh are free so you can visit as many or little as you want. After passing the iron man half submerged in the sidewalk and seeing the "Everything's Going to Be Alright" message in neon over the entrance, I had a good feeling about it.

The thing I love about modern art is it has the tendency to bring out my worst cases of the giggles. Such as being doubled over at the MOMA in NYC after viewing the exquisite piece which appeared in every sense to be a canvas painted white. I know it's low-brow to snigger and not even try to understand the emptiness of life that the artist was trying to convey... at least I think that's what he meant. It could have been a portrait of his mother for all I know. Frankly I just always felt slightly annoyed that I didn't think of it before he did so I'd have a piece in MOMA and could call myself an "artist."


Going into Edinburgh's version of MOMA we weren't disappointed. Our favorite by far was the clear shower curtains that had been melted together and hung from the ceiling and painted with what looked like pepto bismol and toothpaste with candy and bathroom materials stuck to the bottom... this piece filled a 30 foot long room and gave us hours of laughter. Art can truly move people. Maybe not in the way the artist intended, but any reaction is a good one, right? Ok, so the staff of the museum was not amused with our reaction but hey I can't believe we were the first to fall out over that one.

Though we visited the areas more "on the beaten path" like Edinburgh Castle and the Royal Mile, our time spent wandering Dean gave us the chance to see the other side of Edinburgh. I will have to blame those confused city streets for making it impossible for me to drive and possible to meet our lovely taxi driver with his great suggestion.