Three planes in one day
Off to Europe today. But I couldn’t get a direct flight to London, so I stopped over in Chicago. Interestingly, that plane was going on to Sao Paulo, Brazil. I was tempted to stay on board.
I was sitting across from a woman traveling with her cat (they were moving to Ohio). Clifford the cat slept much of the time; he had taken a sedative before embarking on this voyage. So it was his owner who underwent the most trauma. Apparently live animals are a security nightmare, with multiple forms to fill out, inspections to undergo, and fees to pay. She had to take him out of his travel bag for the TSA, and was terrified that Clifford would bolt. He didn’t because he was sedated, but imagine losing your cat in San Francisco Airport! I would think they would at least let you do the inspection in a closed room so the animal couldn’t run away. It also seems odd that an animal gets more inspection than a human—I mean, who is really the security threat?
One amusing thing is that this woman also has a dog (who was driving to Ohio with her husband)—a big, red dog. There are some kids’ books about a big, red dog named Clifford! She says people often comment that her animals were misnamed.
After 4 hours to Chicago, I did 8 hours to London. It was the usual deal with movies, a couple of meals, time to read, a bit of a nap. Somehow the time passes. I watched a teen chick flick called “The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.” It was actually OK, taken on its own level.
But I wasn’t done upon arrival at Heathrow. I still had to take British Midland Air up to Edinburgh—another 90 minutes. Sigh. Three planes in a day is really too many. What surprised me most was that there were no free beverages on the flight! I mean, not even water! I opted to arrive thirsty rather than pay 1-and-a-half pounds for a bottle.
I took the City Centre bus into Edinburgh (only 3 pounds! Way better than a taxi). My hotel was right next to one of the stops. It was a charming old building with high ceilings and an internal architecture that somehow reminds me of the Waldorf Astoria in New York. And the heater was a nice radiator that really works!
Tired as I was, I set out immediately to have a look at Edinburgh Castle. I’m only going to be here for a day, and it was already late afternoon. I walked a mile to the park that’s at the base of the cliffs where the castle sits. What a fabulous sight! The park has green grass, trees, a floral clock, and nice wooden benches. And from the rolling fields rise these sheer, black-rock escarpments hundreds of feet high. Atop sits a huge stone castle. It would look like Dracula if it used the Eastern European architecture like Prague Castle, but instead, it’s a traditional UK-style castle, which looks less sinister to my eye.
I didn’t have the strength to walk all the way up there. It would have taken an hour, and I wasn’t sure the castle would still be open, as it was already 5 pm. So I admired it from the ground, along with the surrounding pretty stone buildings—a couple of churches, some government buildings, a museum. Then I strolled back, poking my head into traditional Scottish kilt shops that were jammed in between cell phone stores, hip clothing joints, and billboards advertising the new iPod Nano.
Ah, Scotland. Land of my forebears! Half my ancestors come from here. I wonder how I ended up so responsive to sunshine, given that Scotland is cloudy and chill nearly all the time. For instance, here it is mid-September and the temperature was around 55 degrees with a brisk breeze (OK, a serious wind) blowing. Shouldn’t I be genetically used to this and find it “bracing” rather than unpleasant? Maybe my body sucks up heat and photons so readily because they are a rarity here.
I was interested to notice the types of restaurants I saw on the street. Of course there was the usual compliment of pubs, but the main other type of casual restaurant is Indian, Pakistani, or Nepalese. I know these are common in England proper, but hadn’t realized it was the same up in Scotland.
I got a good night’s sleep, although I had to carefully select the side of the bed with less U-shape. It seems some heavy folks have spent time in that bed. The jet lag doesn’t seem too bad this time; I slept most of the night, and was able to get up at 6 am. The breakfast included cereal, yogurt, and fruit (and even skim milk!), so I was pleased. I skipped over the “traditional Scottish” dishes, which seemed to include everything greasy—hash browns, sausage, bacon, fried eggs, fried mushrooms, and something fried that was disk-shaped and nearly black. No, thanks. I want to feel buoyed up in the morning, not weighed down.
[My colleague told me later that this mysterious dark disk is called “black pudding,” and contains much of the same ingredients as haggis—stomach contents, other entrails, maybe blood. He also says it’s pretty good. I know from experience that the idea of eating something unusual is often grosser than the actual taste, so he may be right. I tend to believe that if humans can eat something, so can I, given that I’m human. So perhaps I’ll give it a try someday].
The curious thing about Edinburgh is that it smells like hops all the time, from the local breweries. I had noticed an interesting (and quite pleasant) smell that reminded me of fresh toast, but didn’t realize it was hops until my British colleague commented on it. Too bad I didn’t get to try any local beer this trip!
We attended a conference during the day, which was OK. For dinner, we tried a Nepalese place. The décor featured fabulous pictures of the Himalayas with tiny villages and human figures dwarfed by snow-capped peaks. When you see stuff like that, you understand why Tibetan and Nepalese culture includes such colorful crafts and clothing. The landscape is quite bare, and the human presence is symbolized by these rich colors, which also seem to indicate warmth and shelter amid the cold, dangerous surroundings.
We ordered Nepalese beer, which comes in very tall, slim bottles. My colleague immediately commented, “Everything’s tall in Tibet.” The food was wonderful—kind of like Indian, but different in ways that are hard to describe exactly. I had vegetable curry, and he had chicken cooked in a sauce made with dried fruit, so it was sort of sweet-and-sour. Good stuff.
I was sitting across from a woman traveling with her cat (they were moving to Ohio). Clifford the cat slept much of the time; he had taken a sedative before embarking on this voyage. So it was his owner who underwent the most trauma. Apparently live animals are a security nightmare, with multiple forms to fill out, inspections to undergo, and fees to pay. She had to take him out of his travel bag for the TSA, and was terrified that Clifford would bolt. He didn’t because he was sedated, but imagine losing your cat in San Francisco Airport! I would think they would at least let you do the inspection in a closed room so the animal couldn’t run away. It also seems odd that an animal gets more inspection than a human—I mean, who is really the security threat?
One amusing thing is that this woman also has a dog (who was driving to Ohio with her husband)—a big, red dog. There are some kids’ books about a big, red dog named Clifford! She says people often comment that her animals were misnamed.
After 4 hours to Chicago, I did 8 hours to London. It was the usual deal with movies, a couple of meals, time to read, a bit of a nap. Somehow the time passes. I watched a teen chick flick called “The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.” It was actually OK, taken on its own level.
But I wasn’t done upon arrival at Heathrow. I still had to take British Midland Air up to Edinburgh—another 90 minutes. Sigh. Three planes in a day is really too many. What surprised me most was that there were no free beverages on the flight! I mean, not even water! I opted to arrive thirsty rather than pay 1-and-a-half pounds for a bottle.
I took the City Centre bus into Edinburgh (only 3 pounds! Way better than a taxi). My hotel was right next to one of the stops. It was a charming old building with high ceilings and an internal architecture that somehow reminds me of the Waldorf Astoria in New York. And the heater was a nice radiator that really works!
Tired as I was, I set out immediately to have a look at Edinburgh Castle. I’m only going to be here for a day, and it was already late afternoon. I walked a mile to the park that’s at the base of the cliffs where the castle sits. What a fabulous sight! The park has green grass, trees, a floral clock, and nice wooden benches. And from the rolling fields rise these sheer, black-rock escarpments hundreds of feet high. Atop sits a huge stone castle. It would look like Dracula if it used the Eastern European architecture like Prague Castle, but instead, it’s a traditional UK-style castle, which looks less sinister to my eye.
I didn’t have the strength to walk all the way up there. It would have taken an hour, and I wasn’t sure the castle would still be open, as it was already 5 pm. So I admired it from the ground, along with the surrounding pretty stone buildings—a couple of churches, some government buildings, a museum. Then I strolled back, poking my head into traditional Scottish kilt shops that were jammed in between cell phone stores, hip clothing joints, and billboards advertising the new iPod Nano.
Ah, Scotland. Land of my forebears! Half my ancestors come from here. I wonder how I ended up so responsive to sunshine, given that Scotland is cloudy and chill nearly all the time. For instance, here it is mid-September and the temperature was around 55 degrees with a brisk breeze (OK, a serious wind) blowing. Shouldn’t I be genetically used to this and find it “bracing” rather than unpleasant? Maybe my body sucks up heat and photons so readily because they are a rarity here.
I was interested to notice the types of restaurants I saw on the street. Of course there was the usual compliment of pubs, but the main other type of casual restaurant is Indian, Pakistani, or Nepalese. I know these are common in England proper, but hadn’t realized it was the same up in Scotland.
I got a good night’s sleep, although I had to carefully select the side of the bed with less U-shape. It seems some heavy folks have spent time in that bed. The jet lag doesn’t seem too bad this time; I slept most of the night, and was able to get up at 6 am. The breakfast included cereal, yogurt, and fruit (and even skim milk!), so I was pleased. I skipped over the “traditional Scottish” dishes, which seemed to include everything greasy—hash browns, sausage, bacon, fried eggs, fried mushrooms, and something fried that was disk-shaped and nearly black. No, thanks. I want to feel buoyed up in the morning, not weighed down.
[My colleague told me later that this mysterious dark disk is called “black pudding,” and contains much of the same ingredients as haggis—stomach contents, other entrails, maybe blood. He also says it’s pretty good. I know from experience that the idea of eating something unusual is often grosser than the actual taste, so he may be right. I tend to believe that if humans can eat something, so can I, given that I’m human. So perhaps I’ll give it a try someday].
The curious thing about Edinburgh is that it smells like hops all the time, from the local breweries. I had noticed an interesting (and quite pleasant) smell that reminded me of fresh toast, but didn’t realize it was hops until my British colleague commented on it. Too bad I didn’t get to try any local beer this trip!
We attended a conference during the day, which was OK. For dinner, we tried a Nepalese place. The décor featured fabulous pictures of the Himalayas with tiny villages and human figures dwarfed by snow-capped peaks. When you see stuff like that, you understand why Tibetan and Nepalese culture includes such colorful crafts and clothing. The landscape is quite bare, and the human presence is symbolized by these rich colors, which also seem to indicate warmth and shelter amid the cold, dangerous surroundings.
We ordered Nepalese beer, which comes in very tall, slim bottles. My colleague immediately commented, “Everything’s tall in Tibet.” The food was wonderful—kind of like Indian, but different in ways that are hard to describe exactly. I had vegetable curry, and he had chicken cooked in a sauce made with dried fruit, so it was sort of sweet-and-sour. Good stuff.
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