The below happened months ago, but I thought of it when someone on my feed made a super hipster comment about having coffee while the sun is out (coupled with an instagram photo of some fucking palm trees on Sunset Blvd. in Silverlake or some shit). Anyway, when I encounter something I don’t particularly like, or that strikes me a really stupid, I either keep my mouth shut or make fun of it. I usually resort to the latter.
Our first visit to Edinburgh’s city center today, and my suspicions have been confirmed: Edinburgh is gorgeous. Because it’s a historically recognized city, there are loads of regulations that force new buildings to closely resemble old ones (which are meticulously maintained), for extra police cameras to be placed all over to keep people safe, the cobblestone streets are immaculately kept (even in the residential area I’m staying in), and so on. The historical sites are well organized and never crowded. Navigating the city was a bit challenging at first, but it’s so small that we became familiar with it very quickly. The little alleys that shoot off from the Royal Mile (the main drag) every ten yards or so are adorable and mysterious. There are rivers running under the occasional bridge, he areas around which are a vibrant green and have an untamed look to them.
Next it was off to find some lunch. We found The Hub in a guide book which we forgot back at the B&B, but found it again in our wanderings. It’s a cafe (among other things) built within a large old church. We got a cheese plate which did nothing to fill me up (although Boyfriend was oddly satisfied), and went off to meet up with our tour group. A nice older lady gave us a general history of Edinburgh during our walking tour under a constant drizzle. The rest of the group was very stern and didn’t laugh at any of her funny (and true) stories of old Edinburgh, so I made a point to keep a smile on my face and listen intently. It was all very interesting, to tell the truth, and she did a very nice job. At the end of the tour, she took us down under the North Bridge, a dank, moist place that would’ve been pitch black and reeking of burned fish (they burned fish oil in their portable lamps). We got the overall impression that life back then was not something to be envied. Gardy-loo!
We made it to The Witchery for dinner in plenty of time, and were among the first seated of the night. We had three course meals of butternut squash soup, salmon, beef, and ice cream and cheese for dessert. I ordered the Atlantic blackened bream for the second course, but was told afterwards that the chef had a look at it and wasn’t satisfied, so they substituted with salmon, which might have been the best salmon I’ve ever had.