London,
The American boy returns. My trip into London Stansted after a brief layover in Dusseldorf from a flight in LAX. I’d love to tell you how long the flight took but, I’m really not sure as I slept through most of it.
Air Berlin(my carrier) was surprisingly comfortable, no TVs but comfy seats, a nice travel kit provided me with a satisfaction of service. The same cannot be said for Easy Jet.
I like London Stansted, other than the fact you have to take a tram to your terminal I quiet like the feel and efficiency of the place, not surprisingly it was built by the American air force in World War II.
After arriving in Stinted there really is only one choice into London: The Stansted Express. This line gets you into Liverpool station in 35-45 minutes. Once in Liverpool I met Enny almost immediately.
Me and Enny share many things probably most seriously a intellectual sense of adventure. It always takes a moment for us to adjust to each others accents. True Brit meets True Grit. Still in a moment we both understood the situation. We have no tickets, no reservation and were headed to Scotland for the weekend.
Oh did I mention are train left like 40 mins after I pulled into Liverpool Station.
So we rushed through the London Underground with all my luggage.
A moment later an incident occurred which also shows the contrast between the two of us. I found the platform we were looking for and jumped headlong onto the train there. “No Joe” she shouted and I leaped off holding my luggage. “ I don’t like the word Fast she says” I just charge forward all cylinders pumping, guns blazing….that’s how really great enterprises started well except for the War in Iraq.
Eventually we made it from Liverpool across town to Kings Cross and on a train to Scotland land of my ancestors and land of the future.
The train to Scotland was a whirlwind tour of the English countryside. To be honest I’m not entirely sure why so much of it is dived into small shares instead of massive plantation style farms like America. I assume if I had paid attention more during European History in High School I would have the answer or maybe the idioticy of the Corn Laws?
Scotland was gorgeous. The moment I stepped off the train I felt at home it was truly a homecoming.
Scotland is real I know real because I come from the fakest place on earth: California. California is so fake and for me fake is home. All I need to get Cali is throw on the stunner shades, walk the walk, blast the jams and play on the cellphone. Luckily these are things one can do almost anywhere. So if you ever see some guy walking. If New York is the city that never sleeps than Los Angeles is the city that never wakes up.
Thus I can appreciate something real like Scotland! Scotland filled me with emotion, The kind of excited feeling I feel when I first see my family after a long sojourn or the feeling I first felt when I first went to an FC Barcelona game. I was dancing in the moonlight and in the rain for a moment.
Even Edinburgh’s train station for me was the most beautiful than any in England because it was above ground and outside cars can drive practically up to the unloading cars. Because it is built at the bottom of a valley one must walk _up_ to get out of the station. Unfortunately it was raining so even though our hotel was a short walk away we took a cab to a parallel street so we could get there in a dry enough fashion.
We stayed at the Royal Overseas League which is a private club though for us they made a late night exception. The building was over a hundred years old and it possessed windows that by law could not be replaced in the UK. I’m sure this policy is very energy efficient.
Our room was very nice with three rooms and two beds a small plasma screen. Enny is a staunch anti-monarchists but the charm of the place even won her over. The next morinng two Mexicans were checking out from the same hotel. Could they Be Mexican monarchists? Maxamillians? I have often thought Mexico would have been better off with a royal family. Hey being a monarchy for a period turned out great for Brazil!!!
I came to Scotland equipped: cellphone, mp3 and camera. But, being a flashpacker had its draw backs as my camera and cell needed to be charged. Once it was charged we walked the (Scottish!) Royal Mile up to Edinburgh Castle
The Royal Mile is across the valley from our hotel in the New City in the Old City. The Old City boasted 11 story buildings when the rest of world was living in mere hovels.
Walking past these buildings you can’t help feel that this is the pride of Scotland, everyone knows (or at least anyone whose seen knows Scottie from Star Trek) that the Scots are the best Engineers in the world, we never hesitate to drop it like its (James) Watt….and other ridiculous nationalist ideas filled my mind.
Edinburgh Castle was only recently given back to Scotland from England barely 10 years ago, Just before they returned Hong Kong to China. The Castle is in another feat of Scottish engineering. Built on a rocky crag it has a commanding view and over looks valleys on either side. The castle is home to the Scottish Crown Jewels which were the highlight of the Castle’s attraction.
One of the more famous residents of the Castle is a famous cannon known as Mons Meg Cannon which is both a large medieval Cannon an overrated Scottish tourist attraction. It is not large at all and looks crude. Nor is the one-o-clock gun that is fired at one-o-clock anything special. A cannon that is special is the Portuguese cannon across Edinburgh which is far more interesting. This cannon is physical evidence of the worlds first wave of globalization which swept the world in the 1500s-1600s. At one time (before 1624) the cannon was mounted on a Portuguese trading vessel it subsequently fell into the hands of Burmese warlords who used it unsuccessfully in England’s brutal invasion. Captured the cannon is a true world traveler and was brought to Scotland. Before World War II it was one of several that were eventually melted down. Now it is a unique world traveler… I can sympathize.
From the top of the castle you can see all of Edinburgh stretched out before you and you can imagine for a moment what it must of felt like to be a Jacobite trying to storm the walls in 1715. The Jacobites wanted to restore the rule of the Stuarts to Scotland and were hostile to the Union acts of 1707 which made Scotland a part of the United Kingdom. Jacobites almost won that battle and a generation later in 1746 the Jacobites tried one more time to free Scotland. Resulting in the last battle fought in Britain. In the Battle of Culloden proud Highlanders with claymores and axes were cut down by redcoat musketry.
After which the Highlanders were forbidden to own weapons or wear the kilts. Without weapons it is likely that the Scots could of still beat the English. Without Kilts though the Scottish were seriously hampered.
All silliness aside I like to think had I been around then I would of sided with the Jacobites and is interesting to speculate what would of happened had the English been defeated then. Would England deprived of Scottish manpower, ingenuity, and resources been able to create the British Empire???
Who can say?
Leaving Edinburgh Castle we walked downhill stopping briefly for a concoction of chocolate, banana and mint and to pen few letters. More importantly I had my first Iron Bru!!! The official energy drink of Scotland made right on the Grill!!!
We eventually resumed our walk and came to the end of Royal Street which runs into the Scottish Parliament. We got the opportunity to walk into the chambers though the Scottish Parliament was not in session.
The current Scottish parliament building was designed by a Catalan designer and has a grace and design fitting of any nation in the world. The ruling party in Scotland today is the Scottish National Party which wants repeal the Union acts which made Scotland a part of England in 1707.
The people of Scotland ( and there numbers are growing) are tired of sending taxes to Westminster, tired of seeing Scotland’s youth sent off in foolish wars, tired of being the site for Scotland’s nuclear weapons program and tired of other policies deemed harmful to Scotland, the SNP also hopes to cash in on North Sea Oil to turn Scotland into a second Norway
Before leaving I offered a supplication for Scotland. After leaving we took an irregular route across the valley to Carlton Hill and enjoyed the views of the city, the harbor, and the castle. There is a few ruins on the hill of half completed structures and also a monument to Nelson. Of course there is also the Portuguese cannon.
It was time for a quick meal before our train ride back to London so it was a quick walk across Edinburgh back up Royal Street to a Iranian Kurdish place for some Kurdish Kebab and impressive balcony view of the ancient Scottish streets
Athens of the North and has a cerebral feel like San Francisco or Boston. One can easily imagine Adam Smith penning the Wealth of Nations or some other tract here,
Reluctantly I boarded a train. Enny gifted me an issue of the Economist and a Scottish one pound note. Both will help me with many an argument about economics. It is to complicated to get into here but Scotland retains the right to print its own currency and as a result a few Scottish banks produce there own Scottish notes. Which is approaching the value I bought it at it.
For many Kings Cross is the station associated with the film Harry Potter. For me “Kings X “ is associated with the film The Bank Job. Inside my Kings Cross is the tiny stowed luggage office on the left hand side where one can find a full-sized stuffed White Tiger. The Tiger was left there a year ago by someone in left luggage and never claimed. While seeing the tiger brings me with joy there can only be saddness behind its story. I can only imagine the saddness behind this sad coincidence. Who abandons a giant White Tiger? I know I never would.
I discovered the White Tiger in September and was elated to see he was still there ten months later. Apparently now the Tiger has taken on a life of its own and has gotten media coverage in at least one local paper.
After Kings Cross we tried to find a place to play table football. Enny and I have an uncompleted game going which started on Cocacabana Beach in Bolivia on lake Titicaca. There one can find free foosball tables but one must bring his own ball if he hopes to play. We didn’t have one but we found a stone which Enny scored on me and it was time to go.
The game remains in progress as we did not get a chance to finish that night either and turned in early after the greatest chicken sandwich I have ever had.
It all ended to soon and the next morning we made a mad dash to go all the way back to Kings Cross and then catch a train to Stansted Airport and onward to Estonia.
