Edinburgh Love Part One

The set is complete. I have now visited all four countries in the British Isles. I finally made my way over the border to Scotland. 

As the train made its way through the breathtakingly beautiful countryside of the Borders region, I knew I was falling in love. Outside the window I could see the expanse of fields, trees and rivers criss-crossed by dry stone walls. It was exactly like the scene set in the Sam comics in my beloved Twinkle magazine from when I was about five. It was taking me back to a time when I thought everything would be beautiful. 

I soon realised, when I climbed Waverley steps, that everything in Edinburgh is beautiful. Over-used adjective alert: I couldn't stop thinking everything was beautiful. Everywhere I looked there was beauty, often in the strangest places. Every street had the old time charm and every mysterious stairway beckoned with its cobbled floor to take me on another adventure. I must've looked like a simpleton, staring up at the numerous, looming buildings in awe. The castle alone looks like it's a Gothic horror prop that's been dropped in via CGI. 

But my favourite vantage point across the city was up on Calton Hill. I was more than fortunate to narrowly miss the Scottish rain. In fact, I was treated to the most awe-inspiring sky one evening when I climbed Calton Hill. I bloody love a cloud-strewn sky, and I kid you not, this sky was one of the most impressive that I have ever seen. I sat up on that hill as the sinking sun lit up both the surrounding hills and the city below and I thought my heart might explode with the beauty of it all. The sky looked bigger than I ever thought possible. There's magic in those Scottish skies.  

The photos don't do the beauty of this city justice. Arthur's seat was bathed in the late evening sunshine, and although I enjoyed climbing it the day before, I think I preferred taking in the view of the magnificent rocks from afar. The sun shone a warm spotlight of the grand and dramatic countryside that sits looking over the city of Edinburgh. Like I said, head over heels with this place. 

Obviously I didn't spend all of my time in Edinburgh looking at rocks; my love for the festival will earn its own blog post. But the natural beauty of the place deserves a mention in its own right. My only regret is that I didn't have enough time to explore more. It pains me to think I didn't even make it to the coast. Next time.

As my train dragged me away from my new found infatuation, I listened to the same album that had, only three days previously, ushered me across the border into Scotland. Frightened Rabbit's The Midnight Organ Fight is a painfully beautiful piece of music. The songs are so wonderful and they perfectly sound tracked both my initial excitement about my first visit to Scotland and then the reflections on my short time in such a beautiful place. A song like this also has the power of inspiring you into taking action and making the most of the short time we have. A train journey with a magical, moving picture outside the window and a well-laden iPod is a dangerous combination.

Listen and learn.

The alternate reality of Guernsey

Being a thrifty, bargain-hunting sort, when I saw an offer for a day trip for TWO people to Guernsey for only thirty quid, I knew I'd soon be sailing south from Poole, with my good friend Jen along for the adventure. Special mention to Condor Ferries for having the most unexpected, tongue-in-cheek signage of any big company that I've seen.

A three hour skip across the English Channel brings you to the Channel Islands. A day trip being as it is, we only had a little over three hours before we had to ready ourselves for the three hour return journey north. It was a three-hourly segmented day. So, the big question was how best to spend three hours ashore as first time visitors. It was a challenge, and I thrive on the pressure of a challenge. But the thing about Guernsey is, that there seems to be a lack of pressure around.

Life on the island seems to move at a more sedate pace. As we got onto the bus to take us to the boat, Jen and I realised that we were considerably the youngest passengers (something that doesn't happen very much any more). We were surrounded by the older generation. Everywhere that is except in our wallets. Guernsey (and the Channel Islands in general) have their own form of currency. And on said banknotes, our dear Queen Elizabeth II looks startlingly younger than the reality. It's like they're stuck in time.

This was a theme that continued to appear during our short trip to the island. Guernsey in general is not too different to the mainland, but there are small details that are slightly...off. It was like being in an alternative reality. An alternative reality loosely based on Enid Blighton novels.

A distinctive feature of life on Guernsey is the 'Hedge Veg'. You can't go far along the road without seeing a small box offering excess vegetable, fruit, dairy or floral products for sale (honesty box ready to collect the money). It's such a lovely idea and the variety of goods on offer was very exciting to see. Some were lone boxes outside a house and some were long rows of offerings in a lay-by. It was just a shame that we were passing them on the bus, so that gave us limited opportunity to stop and shop.

Speaking of the bus service, I was very impressed. It cost just £1 for any journey, any length. As such, we paid our fare and took the seat on the bus that loops the island. Our own hour-and-a-half tour for a quid. Can't say fairer that that. And if you're looking for where to get on and off, you look for a bus stop right? Not on Guernsey. Here, there is just a big, bold word on the ground. Does the same job I suppose, just eliminates the risk of walking into a pole. Guernsey, you are very wise, in an alternate reality way. 

As we're on the subject of public services, the differences continue with the post service. On Guernsey, the post boxes are blue, not red. And the craziness doesn't end there. The phone boxes are yellow. Madness.

Once we got off the bus, we headed into the town centre. We passed buskers, but not as I've seen them before. This was corporate busking. Each busking spot had a gazebo, sponsorship signs and an amp. I have very high standards when it comes to busking, and this was just not right.

Past the main stretch of the high street, with the musical accompaniment, we started to feel alone. There were still shops: clothing shops, pet shops, hairdressers and tat shops to name just a few. All normal in that you might think. But they were all closed. In the middle of the afternoon. On a Tuesday. In the height of the Summer season. It was like a ghost town. It was all a bit odd, and we were relieved to rejoin the main throng of shops. Just don't get me started on the HMV branch that seemed to be located in an old medieval church.

Thankfully, some things were normal but extraordinary in their beauty. Guernsey has many beautiful beaches and harbours. We didn't get to explore many of them, but it was good to get a whistle-stop tour so I know where to go when I return - Ladies Bay, I have my eye on you. We managed to get a walk on the sand at Havelet Bay, which had to tide me over for beach exploration.

I shall endeavour to return to the Channel Islands now that I've had a taster, although, on the subject of taste, I missed out on tasting any Gache (prounounced 'gosh') so that's another reason to return. To find out more, we'll have to search the internet - with the Guernsey addresses ending .gg - see there really is no end to this crazy alternate reality.

First visit to Paradise

For some reason, I had never been to Gran Canaria before this summer. That might not sound so absurd, but the fact increases in absurdity when I add that my mum has an apartment there. 

She always said that I should go. She offered me use of her place. She talked it up constantly: it was her "Paradise". 

Maybe that's why I was so reticent to explore it for myself. It was mum's ideal. And I had imagined her apartment to be just like her house, but concentrated into a one bedroom apartment. I need to point out here that my mother doesn't know how to do anything demurely or schematically. Minimalism is not in her vocabulary. She is a maximist. 

There were other reasons for not going, but I won't go into those here. Suffice it to say that all the hurdles had disappeared and I was packing my backpack - no need for suitcases when you'll be wearing shorts and t-shirts all week!

Gran Canaria was just what I needed. The weather was incessantly hot. My mum's apartment has a view of the ocean and a pool within a two minute walk from the sun-lounger on the balcony. I was never far from the coast in the week I was there. Altogether now: life is better by the sea. 

I was in need of some relaxation and warmth. And I got both. In some ways I felt like I was not making the most of my holiday as I wasn't rushing around in my usual frenetic way to pack as much in as possible. But as I stared out at the ocean one evening from the balcony I realised that all the nothing was very worthwhile. Sometimes we need to just do nothing. 

Maybe it's because I'm getting older, or maybe it was the heat, but I did a lot of sitting in Gran Canaria. I quite enjoyed just sitting if I'm honest. I also did quite a lot of thinking. Often these activities were simultaneous. In my times of contemplation I whittled my holiday down to many statistics. Some of which I shall share now:

8 days in Gran Canaria 

6 days of swimming in the sea 

4 novels read

2 bikinis worn (a personal milestone) 

4 cockroaches shrieked at 

1 cockroach caught  

2 bats watched in flight 

1 festival flotilla witnessed 

The part of the festival I was lucky enough to witness took place on the second day of my trip. It was part of Fiestas del Carmen. This is a festival that honours the Virgin of Carmen. She is the patron saint of fishermen, and seeing as this is one of the main industries on the Canary Islands, and in the area I was staying in particular, she is a pretty big deal.

The festivities go on for weeks, but the part I was lucky enough to witness was one of the most bombastic parts. A flower-strewn effigy of the Virgin is taken to fishing boats in the port of Arguineguin. There, she boards one of many boats. She is then taken as part of a colourful, flag-covered flotilla of fishing boats, ferries, yachts, speed boats, ribs, jet skis and any other sea-worthy vessel in the area, along the coast to Puerto de Mogan. 

We had settled down to watch the excitement at El Faro, the restaurant at the foot of the lighthouse that gives the restaurant its name. By the time the heaving, beating heart of the flotilla arrived (late, obviously - the Spanish adhere to their own timekeeping), I was pretty excited. I heard them coming before I saw them. All the boats were playing music and honking horns. Every inch of deck on every boat was used by passengers. How the accompanying coastguard didn't have an anxiety attack, I'll never know. 

It was like a sensory overload to watch the sea of boats sail past. There were so many that at times it was a wonder that they didn't bump into each other. In fact, I reckon it would've been physically possible for me, sat at the end of the protruding harbour wall, to walk across the boats to the opposite harbour side, such was the density of vessels in the water. It was amazing. Music was pumping out from various boats and everyone was dancing or shouting or waving or generally celebrating. 

My hosts told me several times how the Spanish know how to celebrate. I could see this clearly that afternoon. It's clear how important the sea is to the people in that coastal community and this is the perfect life-loving celebration and religious acknowledgement of all that the sea can offer and the perils it can bring. I hope Carmen continues to keep them all safe. 

That afternoon, I returned back to the apartment well fed, in both food and local culture. At first, I thought I'd seemingly wasted my afternoon sat in one restaurant for close to five hours. But then I realised that sitting should not be the enemy. When you can soak up the activity happening around you, and as such become part of the kaleidoscope of life, it's never a waste of time. 

Another of my sitting sessions brought a different kind of spectacle. I had taken an evening walk down to the beach to sit on the sand and watch the day disappear. As dusk took hold, I saw two swooping shapes above me. My initial presumption that they were birds was soon superseded when their aerial acrobatics became more dynamic that any birds I'd seen. It was, in fact, a pair of bats. They were diving and soaring with breakneck speed, presumably on their early evening buffet hunt. 

I sat there for almost an hour, captivated by the show they were putting on. As they dived increasingly closer to the ground as the light faded to almost darkness, I was oohing and ahhing as much as I have for any firework display. Nervous but joyful laughter escaped from my mouth as they dared swooping lower and lower. 

A Spanish family passed by and stopped to watch with me for a while. The kids were almost as excited as the dad to see "Batman", one of the only words I could distinguish from their Canarian chatter. In my broken Spanish, we had an excitable conversation. FYI 'bat' in Spanish is 'murcielago'. Another important word to add to my repertoire. 

For a while, I tried to document the moment with a photo. I don't know if you've ever tried to take a picture of a bat or two in mid flight, with a poor quality i-Pod, in the failing light, but it's not as easy as it sounds. 

Trust me, the back splodge is a bat. I may not ever make a wildlife camera operator, but I had fun at the time. Photo taken, I resumed the sitting and watching. Sometimes doing nothing can bring the most unexpected enjoyment. When the darkness had made it impossible to see the bats any longer, I made my way back through the complex towards my home on the hill. I passed people heading to restaurants for dinner and a disco drawing the crowds. I reflected that given the choice, I would always choose sitting on the beach watching nature's entertainment. 

Gran Canaria gave me many treats whilst I was there. I can now see why it's paradise for my mum. There is great joy to be had in sitting by the sea and soaking up the sun, the culture, the nature and the life going on all the time in paradise. I'm not sure it's my paradise. Paradise is a strong word. But I shall definitely head back sometime for another taster of a beautiful and welcoming place that has much to offer. 

Muchas gracias Gran Canaria. Hasta luego.