If I should become a stranger, you know it would make me more than sad…

It’s my last day in Edinburgh, and it seems fitting that I’m spending most of it at my pub. For the afternoon I set up a wee office at a table, with my computer and my Eurail map and my knitting, and my friend Lauren and a few half pints of red cask ale and then some red wine, and now a haggis for supper…my boss gave me a lovely card and a silver bracelet, and it all seems like a proper end for my time here.

This has been the most amazing year of my life, people, and Edinburgh, and this pub, are the reasons.

So on my last day, here’s a pictorial of my walk to work, which I won’t do again.

Outside my door is Leith Walk, and the potential to rent Bollywood movies.

Down Elm Row is Joseph Pearce, a Swedish pub that sells Portuguese lager on tap. Its menus are glued into Disney books. Last time we were there, we read Dumbo.

I go past the Omni Centre.  There’s the giraffee statues out front, inside of which - when walking home at 5 a.m. after Canada Day – I discovered an Irish couple sleeping.  What would happen if you crawled inside there and couldn’t get out? Jase and I have imagined the scenario a number of times.

“Hi, Ola? Hi this is Aasa calling. Uh, I’ll be a bit late for work today…Why? Well, I’m stuck inside a giraffe…yeah…Don’t worry though, the firemen are on their way with the Jaws of Life so I shouldn’t be too much longer…I’m fired? Right, okay.”

I got a bit teary, today, crossing the North Bridge, and knowing I no longer get to walk across it every day. Not many places do you get, on your way to work, to gaze at a dormant volcano to your left and a castle to your right.

If  I’m working in the morning, I cut through the North Bridge arcade, past the Who’s Who clothing store which used to employ Mr. Chad Wilson, to my favorite news agent

Naz! He gives me free stuff.

Then I go up the nearest close to the Mile…

…to my wee pub with grand food.

Inside (if you’re lucky) you’ll meet these guys.

I’ll miss you, McGregor.

Why I love Irish People, the sequel

After work on Sunday we were sitting having a pint, when an Irish couple we’d served during the day came back in. They bought us a pint, and then another one, and then invited us out for dinner. We declined on the meal, but suggested we keep drinking at the pub around the corner.

When we asked where they were from, Emma drew a circle on a piece of paper.

“This is Ireland, and this”, she said, drawing a dot in the middle, “is where we live.”

“It looks like a boob,” Jase deftly observed.

“That’s right,” she replied, “We’re the nipple of Ireland.”

A few more pints later, Emma and Monty were insisting that we stay with them forever.

“Seriously,” she said, “you have to come stay in Ireland. I’ll give you a place to stay for like a few days or five years. And I’ll drive you any where in the country you want to go, any time.”

Done and done.

Ode to My Pub

I am sitting in a pub in Bedford, England, having just consumed a microwaved fish and chips and a questionable pint. I placed my order at the bar, and my food materialized in front of me a few moments later, delivered by a waitress that said only ‘fish and chips, table 62′, before disappearing, never to be seen again. No ketchup, no brown sauce, to vinegar to be found with my fries, and no one to ask if I wanted some. That was no chef-prepared meal, and this pint of John Smith’s, my friends, is no Belhaven Best.

In short, I am missing my pub.

I arrived in England today, will attend Tamara’s wedding tomorrow, and will fly back to Edinburgh on Sunday. Then, I will start my very fancy ’shift supervisor training’, which means I get to change kegs and lock the door. And a raise!

I started working at my pub about three days after arriving in Edinburgh. It was mid-festival season, and was insanely busy at all hours. I made mistakes with the orders, didn’t know where to find anything, and generally felt that I was in the way. Now that I’ve settled in, and I don’t make mistakes, and the pace is much more manageable, I’ve come to feel comfortable there. It’s a wee family-run pub, and it starts to feel like the staff is family: The other girls there who are going to uni, and the boys who work in the kitchen; the owner and his (French-Canadian) wife who on Sunday had their first baby. The regulars.

We have two ‘pairs’ of regulars: John and John, and Bill and Bill. John and John are in almost every day (one drinks a pint of Belhaven Best, the other a double Famous Grouse with ice and a straw). Bill and Bill are best friends who come in every Friday. Chris is in at midday, every day, for two quick pints, and again later for another before heading home on the train. Stuart drinks white coffee and does the crossword puzzle, and goes outside for frequent cigarettes (I mean, uh, fags).

We have a chef, who makes good food from scratch. Haggis. Fish and Chips. Cullen Skink. Crofter’s Chicken. We have good wait staff, who are friendly as all hell, which is good because our customers are mostly tourists.

My favorite American tourist story, so far:

American tourist to Aussie bartender: ‘So when’s the best time to visit Australia?’

Aussie bartender: ‘Anytime really, but right now it’s getting to be our summer, so it’s going to be really hot. October is a good time.’

American tourist: ‘Right – your summer is our winter…’

Aussie bartender: ‘Yeah.’

American tourist: ‘So should I go in your October or our October?’

My other favorite is when American tourists are surprised to find out I’m not Scottish. Somehow it completely escapes them that I have almost the exact same accent that they do.

Anyway!

At the moment, from my table, I can see eight tables waiting to be cleaned off, and I’ve yet to see the waitress re-appear. I should know better than to expect more from Weatherspoons, but still.

In short, I’m back in England for a precise purpose, and happy to know I’ll be back in Scotland shortly.

 

 

 

 

sweet home

 

 

 

This is where I live. I pay more rent than I’d like, than I would if I shared a flat with three or four other people, but mine is a two bedroom place that Lindsay owns, and I like it, so I’m staying here.

It comes with a comfy bed and a lounge with wide comfy couches near tall windows that let in lots of day light. It’s in a great part of the city, really close to downtown. It only takes me 15 minutes to walk to work every day. It has a gas fire place and white wool rug and a puppy.

I’m liking my job. Now that the festival season is over and thousands of tourists aren’t walking past the pub each day, the pace is easier to handle. I’ve gotten to know my co-workers and the regulars who sit across the bar. The haggis is really good. The Polish chef giggles every time I say ‘cheeseburger’ (apparently it’s my Rs). American tourists try to place my accent (Kansas? Philadelphia?).

I haven’t been much outside of Edinburgh yet, but I’m planning some day trips. I have Thursday off, and plan to catch the train to Stirling, to see the castle there and the William Wallace monument and the battlefield of Bannockburn. I’ve signed up for a class at Edinburgh university called ‘A Radical Approach to Scottish History’, and another, one-day class about Robert the Bruce that’s held at Edinburgh castle.

I may never get tired of this city.

remember your brolly.

Edinburgh Rule #1: Never leave your flat without an umbrella. Mine has orange polka dots.

I was walking home last night from my second shift as Bar Wench Extraordinaire, when I saw an exitable man with a German accent pointing his cell phone camera at the sky. As I approached, he started exclaiming: “Look! A full moon! I can see a full moon! In Edinburgh!”

He was right, the moon was there, and full, only partially covered by clouds, and he was trying to capture it on his phone to prove to others that he’d seen it.

“I’ve been in Edinburgh for a month, and I haven’t seen the moon! Or stars! Oh LOOK! THERE’S A STAR!”

It’s true that you rarely see the sky here. I’ve been here officially one week, and have yet to really see the sun: it has come out twice in the afternoon that I’m aware of, and both times I was working inside at the time. I haven’t even taken pictures of Edinburgh yet, because I’m waiting for a day with blue sky. I may be waiting awhile.

But oh, what a beautiful city this is. Oh my.