If it's not Scottish it's Crap

Technical difficulties prevented me from posting until now.  Sorry for the delay.  I'm sure all five of you who read this were deeply upset.  

After ten days in Ireland we boarded the outrageously early (but cheap!) flight to Edinburgh, Scotland.  I find myself wanting to draw stereotypical comparisons between Ireland and Scotland, but that would indeed be stereotypical and pretty inaccurate.  Even my untrained ear can tell the difference between an Irish and Scottish accent; sexy versus very sexy.  One blaring difference is the liberal use of the kilt here.  Amen.  If I can be honest here, if nowhere else, man legs in a plaid skirt is all right by me.  Now if I could have only had a good look up one of them.  

The two countries are very similar in that it is cold as balls.  At one point while traipsing around Edinburgh it actually snowed.  Yes, May is early summer for them too.  All the nice kilt baring lads assured us this usually never happens, but the point is lost on us after spending five months in the tropics.  Anything below 70 degrees is arctic conditions for us.  I only just got used to the sensation of sweating through my underwear everyday from 8:00 am to 8:00 pm.  My months of diligent work on a golden brown tan has been quickly thwarted as well.  The healthy looking bronze color is rapidly being coated with the sexy, chalky film of ash.  How I will ever readapt to the states is a mystery.

So with the weather forecast being rain with the chance of torrential rain, I picked up my metaphorical kilt, grabbed my balls (less metaphorical) and braved the walking tour of Edinburgh.  It was also free and at this point in our trip and in the land of the Great Brittan Pound, I am not going to turn up the chance at a free anything.  Scotland is bursting with history, from the enlightenment period architecture to the events that led to their absorption into the United Kingdom to their most significant achievement since Mike Myers portrayal of the slovenly Scottish villain, Fat Bastard, in the Austin Powers movies.  That's right fellow dorks, Edinburgh is the birthplace of Harry Potter (as if you didn't know that already though).

Before the international phenomena that is Harry Potter when J.K. Rowling was too poor to heat her own apartment, she would spend her days at the local fire-warmed coffee shop, Elephant House Cafe.  This is where she wrote the first two books of what was to become the fanatically followed Harry Potter series.  The cafe proved to be an amazing point of interest on the tour.  What better way to pay homage to the books I love then by getting a warm cappuccino (also the perfect place to ditch the walking tour that continued to slosh through the downpour for three hours).  I will proudly (somewhat ashamedly) admit that I have read all seven books at least a few times.  I resisted the seeming fad for a long time and if you are still bad mouthing and boycotting them to maintain your "I'm too hip to lower myself to read a mass-consumed children's book" facade, well just get over yourself already and drink the Kool Aid.  Plus, no matter your reading level it will make you feel like a genius when you rip through a 500 page book in a day and a half.  Then you'll also know what the hell I'm talking about when I say I also saw the mid-evil looking castle-like school that J.K. Rowling based Hogwarts on.  Suck it!

In addition to living out the Harry Potter dream, I did actually learn a few educational tid-bits about Edinburgh.  Things such as how several churches are shutting down due to declining attendance and how to properly drink scotch whiskey (which, in my opinion, may have contributed to the reduced interest in the sacramental wine).  After working out one evening, Kelly and I stopped by a pub for "dinner".  We ended up getting sucked in for hours after learning they were holding trivia night followed by a little karaoke. I should lie and say we placed first in trivia, but we in fact shamed America and placed dead last.  What can I say, current events is a rough category when you just arrived in a foreign country and haven't read a newspaper in months.  Sweet redemption, however, came during the karaoke portion of the evening.  Kelly, in her workout spandex and running shoes, gave the best damn eight and a half minute rendition of Meatloaf's "I Would Do Anything for Love" to a crowd of confused Scots.  By minute three though she had the whole crowd enthralled.  So much so that the group of hot Scottish lesbians (one with adult braces) in the corner were heartbroken and begging her to stay when we left after her performance.  Kelly speaking the international language of gay; undying love songs and workout clothes.

 

Just writing a little message to Harry Potter/defacing the Elephant House Cafe