31. Edinburgh, Scotland - June 26

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This morning we docked at the former Royal Naval Dockyard in Rosyth, Scotland, about ½ hour train ride from Edinburgh. The Royal Air Force streaked across the sky trailing clouds of glory in the form of red, white and blue tail-smoke. For us? We have never received such a welcome before!

Once off the ship, we took the “Edinburgh Highland and Castle” bus tour. We were in for a shock when we saw the crowds and learned that Prince Charles and Camilla and William and Kate are in town to pay tribute to the nation’s soldiers, sailors and fliers, as the capital became the official host city of the third Armed Forces Day.

The cobbles of the Royal Mile were trampled by 2500 military personal, veterans, cadets and plenty of doodle pipers making their way from the Edinburgh Castle down to Holyrood Park, the Queen’s official residence when in Edinburgh. Over 100,000 people lined the streets and watched.

We travelled at snail pace and finally arrived at the Castle, perched on a rocky site high above town. Here we saw the apartment in which Mary, Queen of Scots gave birth to King James I of England – I think. It all becomes a bit muddled because this guy was also King James VI of Scotland – I think. The guide mumbled something about Edinburgh castle being a fort, a royal residence and a military garrison which houses the magnificent Scottish Crown Jewels. I never could figure out who lived and still lives here, because Maggie the guide didn’t exactly talk our American lingo.

We then drove through the historical area known as the “Royal Mile”, where every inch is packed with shops, cafes, pubs and restaurants. Similar to the confusion of who resides in the Royal Castle, “the Royal Mile is actually longer than a mile – and the many side alleys will soon become a Touristic Mall where you’ll only see tartans and shortbread” – I think that’s what she said – “and you have to slalom through postcard racks.” It’s really hard when you don’t understand the language.

“Somewhere around St. Giles Cathedral, deep down in the basement, live prehistoric Romans and Vikings and/or Sean Connery, giving birth to some witch-burning, clan-massacres that walk the length of the Royal Mile”, I swear that’s what she said…………..Please bear with me - there’s also a Malt-Disney-Whisky-tasting that lets you ride in a big whisky cask – or is it a ride in the Old-Irish-Whisky-vault?

According to Maggie real Scotsmen don’t drink from rough bottles, they like it purified, colorized and standardized straight from the mass market – like getting milk straight from the farmer – I think. Wait there is more………..”the whole city is sipping whisky with Experts And Very Good Friends that fit their personality and is intoxicated from May 17 through October 11 this year.” Somebody also giddied with excitement about some dance and drama recital when there is no multicultural music playing – I think. As I said before, it’s a bitch when you don’t understand the language.

Back onboard, we grabbed a quick sandwich and rushed to the railroad station for an outing to St. Andrews. It was well worth the trek, but getting there was a little tricky: We first took the shuttle to Inverkeithing, then the train to Leuchars and from there a taxi to town. The chauffeur said the Old Golf Course is a good place to start. Very cool! So was the university and the cathedral.

Returning from St. Andrews at 8:00PM, Dickie was pooped, hence Dickie-poo. There were 3 hours left before sail-away and they couldn’t be wasted …….. so I stormed the gangway and finished the day in an authentic pub close to the wharf. With a very thick Scottish accent the owner “drew a wee dram for me”, and I tasted it. Whoa! Squinting into the glass, he coached me along: “Look at the impurities gathering in a happy little pool on top…………it brings out the character ……. the personality.” He described the whisky as fruity, peppery, peaty and smoky, much like a wine-snob would do.

At 11:00PM I waved goodbye to a handful of Pipers who escorted us out to sea, playing Yankee Doodle Dandy! Gotta love the Scotch!

One more day before we dock in Amsterdam and fly home. I opened the expensive miniature bottle of 1991 Taylor’s Vintage Port I bought in Porto. It was all there, the intense blackberry and succulent fruit, but it was still very firm on the palate and should be cellared for at least another 10 years. With fancy Riedel glass in hand, I sat on the balcony and stared out the sea. My mind started to totally untangle. I found clarity about issues that had been furiously muddled. Seven weeks at sea will do that to you.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HmMFoLt-aPg

Click on the above YouTube link to see the pictures.