Day Three, continuedWalking into Glasgow’s Queen Street station, which is nearly literally next to the Carlton George, I lucked out and the 10:30 train bound for Edinburgh was leaving very shortly. I’m still somewhat new to this whole train thing and I’m an idiot in general, but I did note that my ticket was good for any train that day. So, double-checking with a station staff member that this particular train had a first class carriage, I boarded. Or so I thought. There were actually two separate trains on the same track and thankfully, I realised my mistake soon enough...who knows where I was almost carted off to. Boarding the correct train, I felt a bit silly for having booked first class because I was the only one in the carriage. But really, it was nice to have the quiet, because standard class was loud and packed. I’ll even forgive that when the kitchen guy came by and asked if I wanted tea or coffee and I said “coffee please, black,” he brought me tea. He also brought a blueberry muffin (which was surprisingly moist), so I decided to save my Glasgow pastries for later.
It was a quick, though pretty, trip down to Edinburgh and making my way through the station, I tried to get my bearings. I can’t recall if I mentioned, but I was to be staying at The Balmoral, quite a treat to myself and also a consolation prize for having had to say goodbye to Glasgow. I was wholly unimpressed with the Carlton George and knew that The Balmoral would be a much better experience. So whilst I was looking for signs for the exit out to Princes Street, I’d hoped to see a sign or walkway directly to the hotel, since it’s literally at the station. But no luck...and it turns out you have to walk up a very long staircase to get up to street level and the hotel. Oh well. But as in Glasgow, I could hear bagpipes playing and I really loved the aura it created. Plus, it was as beautiful out in Edinburgh as it had been in Glasgow, so that was a lovely treat. Whenever the sun shines in Britain, one must relish it.
So, having caught my breath from the excursion up the stairs, I walked up the (few) lovely steps of The Balmoral and was warmly greeted immediately at the door by a porter who took my suitcase and chatted with me while we waited at the currently very busy reception desk. I was struck by the genuine friendliness of all of the staff I could see...it wasn’t the forced, curt friendliness of any 5-star hotel, it was
actual friendliness. I couldn’t go up to a room yet, as I was quite early checking-in, but they took both of my bags and my mobile number, with a promise to call me when my room was ready.
As I turned to leave, I learned just how friendly and attentive the staff at The Balmoral are. I’m not usually one to rely heavily on the concierge, I like to figure things out myself and even though I’m paying for those very services, I feel guilty for being a pest. But I’d barely made eye contact with him and he smiled and asked where I was off to and did I need any assistance. When I mentioned I was off to an early lunch at the Mussel and Steak Bar, he gave me very precise directions and – as I’d already read online – said the mussels were fantastic.
So, with that info and a quick chat with the extremely friendly doorman outside, I set off for the restaurant, on Grassmarket, with a map. After being in a little awe of the beauty of what I saw of the Royal Mile, I found the restaurant on the second try and was their first customer of the day, and was very warmly greeted.
Grassmarket is, I think, usually a big quad type area with many bars, shops and restaurants, down quite a steep winding hill from the Royal Mile. But they’re doing major improvement works and currently, it’s a bit of a construction mess – which was part of why I couldn’t find the restaurant. Well, that’s my excuse anyway.
Sipping the only white wine by the glass on the menu, I ordered half a dozen chilled oysters to start and a kilo of mussels in pesto with chips for my main. Lol, the server seemed a bit shocked that I wanted an entire kilo and not a half, but I assured him I was hungry. I wasn’t really thinking that 1 kilo = 2.2 pounds. Many mussels. Oops. Everything, including the bread, was delicious and several other customers poured in as I ate…my server was lovely, offering more bread which he excitedly suggested I dip in the mussel sauce (which was yum!). I think they screwed up my sauce though and used the shallot cream sauce, not pesto…but it was still delicious. Having to decline dessert due to my overzealous kilo order, I made my stuffed way back up the steep hill to the Royal Mile.
As promised, the hotel had called whilst I was at lunch to say that my room was ready, so I headed in that direction to get settled. Upon my return to the hotel, the doorman, who had asked where I was off to earlier, asked how lunch was. It became a theme throughout the weekend that he and I would chat for several minutes every time I left or came back, which was quite lovely...and upon entering my room, I was amused that my bags hadn’t just been brought up to my room. My suitcase was laid out on the luggage stand, facing the correct direction so it could be opened and my laptop bag was carefully sitting in the desk chair. Perhaps I’m nit-picky, but I really love attention to detail like that.
With a little quick organising, I was back out the door to head back to the Royal Mile...assuring the ever helpful concierge that I just wanted to wander, with no set plans. It was already 14:00 or so and I was anxious to see Edinburgh :) I headed up the hill toward the castle, slowly strolling and seeing the sights. I discovered this crazily narrow and steep side path called a “close,” which I would later discover were side streets where people lived back in the Middle Ages…the Royal Mile is surrounded by them because at one point, nearly everyone in Edinburgh – poor or wealthy – lived along that one mile. As I made my way up to the breathtaking St Giles Cathedral, there was a wedding party having photos taken and the bride’s dress was gorgeous (and there were many kilts, lol). I stopped and watched for a few minutes, snapping my own photo and goofily daydreaming of what it would be like to be married there. I’m a girl, I can’t help it :P
Eventually, I kept going up the hill and as I got closer to the castle, the Royal Mile forked, and the path became much narrower and steeper. There was a guy who appeared to be an actor (based on the conversation I was overhearing), dressed in battle get-up with blue paint on his face…I stopped for a few minutes to watch him pose and take pictures with tourists, as he was quite amusing. Lol, he offered to show his tattoo to some poor American lady and she didn’t think to ask where it was before agreeing to see it, lol. It was on his derriere! The woman was a good sport, but she seemed utterly mortified. I suppose I lack class, but I was laughing so hard I had to walk away, lest I catch the actor’s attention and become his next victim.
As a side note, perhaps due to the many direct flights from the US, the marathon being held that weekend or simply the fact that it was also a long weekend in America, but Edinburgh was overrun by Americans. Lol, you people were everywhere, it wasn’t nearly as fun to be American in Edinburgh as it had been in Glasgow, but there were far more kilted men in Edinburgh, so that helped balance things :P
Walking up to the castle, I was amazed at the view and since there was a weddingesque horse and carriage waiting outside the castle, my silly wedding daydreams started again. Lol, how cool would it be to be married
in the castle? I decided not to do the tour and just wandered about for a bit, snapping photos of various things. Spotting an ice cream truck outside, I decided I deserved ice cream, bought a cone and headed back down the hill.
There was another couple having wedding photos taken at St Giles when I passed it again and, of course, I had to stop again. I’m easily amused I know.
I headed back out to Princes Street to check out what looked like a lovely park – Princes Street Gardens. It stretches from the Balmoral nearly all the way down Princes Street and, as it turns out, it’s gorgeous. So I walked along slowly, people watching and soaking in the sights. With my horrendously poor sense of direction, I didn’t realise that Princes Street – and the park – parallel the Royal Mile and when I saw a “gorgeous huge house” on top of a cliff, I didn’t realise it was the castle. Duh. But in my defence, it doesn’t look castlelike. But anyway. After um, more ice cream, I turned around and headed back toward the hotel, passing the National Gallery as I got to the end of the park – which is a beautiful Greek-style building.
After a quick stop at the hotel to rest for a few minutes, I decided to brave Calton Hill. I didn’t really know what it was, but it had been suggested by one of the people back in London who’d made the fantastic suggestion of Rogano in Glasgow, so I figured I’d give it a go. So off I went and when I finally figured out where the path was to walk up, I started on my way. As afraid as I am of heights, it’s not a scary walk...there are steps usually, but those were closed, so everyone was walking up the road, dodging cars as we went.
At the top, there are a few cool monuments scattered about and the view, in several directions, is amazing...you’re above nearly all of Edinburgh with a view beyond the city out to the water. I couldn’t bring myself to get too close to any edges, but I did get some great photos. So, feeling like I’d seen everything I could, I felt deserved of a drink in the hotel ;) I made my way back down the hill and, arriving back at the hotel, flopped down in the Bollinger bar and ordered a glass of Moet et Chandon Rosé...the very Rosé I’d tasted at the Moet house in Reims, I even have a bottle of it at home :) I sipped it and flipped through the cocktail menu out of curiosity. The Balmoral has two bars – this one, which is a more refined and proper hotel bar and is mainly focused on champagne...and the Balmoral Bar, which is less formal and more of just a bar. I decided to order a strawberry liqueur and champagne cocktail, having long-since finished my glass of Moet, but I wasn’t actually that impressed with the strawberry thing...it was kind of bland. Oh well. It was getting quite late, so I headed out to dinner...after much debate earlier with the concierge about where all my meals should be for the weekend, I decided on the Café Royal Oyster Bar for dinner, it was nearly literally across the street from the hotel and in addition to the concierge’s recommendations, it has a ton of good reviews online. So, with a cute chat with the doorman, where he apologised for sounding like a father, but really wished I was taking a coat because it was cold, I set off for dinner.
The Café Royal Oyster Bar is quite an old building, it may even be a historic landmark, and it’s really beautiful...it has high gothic type ceilings, with decorative paintings all over the ceiling. The restaurant is “next door,” divided by a not-quite-ceiling high stained glass partition. Plunking myself down at the bar, I ordered a Gin and Tonic and my beloved half a dozen chilled oysters and people watched. The staff were fun and friendly, though the bar was packed, so they were also insanely busy. After an hour, having had a second G&T and finished my oysters, I wandered next door for dinner. The restaurant side is quite small, but the staff on that side are equally lovely. I suppose I’m boring, but I ordered mussels for my starter, even though I’d just had them for lunch...they were served in a cream sauce with salmon and cashews, which sounded really yummy. I ordered a mysterious looking seafood platter for my main, with a side of chips and Bearnaise and munched on their delicious bread and a glass of Muscadet (I think) whilst I waited for my food.
The mussels arrived and were a
huge portion...but I bravely/piggily finished the entire bowl and prayed that my main was less generous. Mercifully, it was...the seafood platter was a variety of tapas-sized portions of various shellfish (including a lobster claw) and three different types of salmon...everything was delicious and I guess I must be repressing my sweet tooth again, because I’m pretty sure I had dessert, but I don’t remember what I had :( Settling the bill, I wandered back to the hotel, filling my doorman friend in all my adventures as I went...it was late and I was stuffed and tired, so I called it a night.
Day Four:Once again being responsible, I got myself up early and was down at breakfast in the hotel by 9ish...not surprisingly, the hotel’s breakfast buffet was quite impressive...hot and cold items everywhere and everything was delicious. There are a la carte items available as well, but even piggy me saw no reason to order anything additional. After a leisurely breakfast with the morning paper and feeling quite happy that I’d get to have the breakfast a second time the next day, I headed upstairs to plan my day. I decided to check out a tour through one of the closes, that I’d seen online the night before, and also wanted to brave climbing Arthur’s Seat, the other high elevation point in Edinburgh. So, setting off back to the Royal Mile at a leisurely pace, I happened upon the tour, the Mary King’s close tour, and wandered in…though I’d originally planned to do it later, they had a tour starting in a few minutes, so I figured I’d join that one. It was really fun and interesting, with a bit of spook thrown in! I’m a complete baby about being scared and I was wishing I had someone with me, lol. But I survived and learned much about the closes and the history of Edinburgh, I highly recommend the tour...it took about an hour and seemed a bit more off-the-beaten-path than things like the castle.
Somehow feeling peckish again, I decided to scout out lunch...again through my own research and further validation by the concierge, I made my way to Creeler’s, which is widely considered the best seafood in Edinburgh and is just off the Royal Mile. I was their first, and oddly, only customer and settled in with a bunch of pamphlets about Scotland that they had by my table. Ordering a glass of white, I ordered the “trio of salmon,” to start and scallops and pancetta in cream sauce for my main. Everything was divinely delicious and though the servers seemed perplexed that I was their only customer, they were all lovely toward me. I had room for dessert and had earlier been very excited to see strawberry crème brulee on the menu, but was a little bummed when the server said it was actually raspberry that day...but, lol, I ordered it anyway. It was a perfect portion and was quite delicious. Settling the bill, I went on my way, heading back to the hotel to rest for a bit.
Eventually, I headed back out with my sights on Arthur’s Seat. Consulting my doorman friend on the way, I set off. I was totally turned around and didn’t realise that Holyrood Palace and Arthur’s Seat are at the other end of the Royal Mile from the castle...so after I walked all the way up to the castle and realised my mistake, I headed in the right direction.
Ambling my way down the hill, I was a little struck by the cruelty of the topography...the Royal Mile was taking me down, down, down and I was to climb what I’d read is a dormant volcano...a climb people “prepare” for and one that takes an hour. So it seemed mean that I was basically making my climb more strenuous with each step down the hill. But given all my pigging out, I figured it was probably a good thing. I wasn’t really worried about the height of the Seat because Calton Hill hadn’t seemed scary. On my way, I passed a fudge shop and there was a guy outside advertising free samples...turning him down with a laugh that I’d just had “a gigantic lunch,” but was on my way to climb Arthur’s Seat and would be back in a bit, I carried on down the hill.
Finally reaching the clearing at the bottom, I saw the Seat and basically thought to myself “gaaaaaaaaah.” It looked very impressive...and terrifying. But ever determined and dumb, I soldiered on and figured out where the path starts. I stood at the base for awhile, forcing myself to start walking, lest I always regret not doing it. But sadly, lol, I chickened out...having climbed about 10 feet, I changed my mind. Firstly, the path is quite loose and uneven and it really isn’t meant to be attempted in a cute dress and cute shoes, as I was wearing. Secondly though, you walk right along an open drop…which is eventually quite a drop!! I just couldn’t do it. Someday, when I have some big guy next to me, I might brave the Seat. But with a defeated sigh, I made my way back up the Royal Mile.
Approaching the free fudge guy, he chuckled when he saw me and said “you didn’t go up, you’re back too soon.” “No,” I said sullenly, “I chickened out.” “Ah well, you deserve sympathy fudge then.” And, heading into the shop, I had a bite and continued on my way back up the hill. I wandered Grassmarket for awhile and noticed two restaurants that looked quite interesting. Then I sat in the regular bar at the hotel for awhile and savoured two Gin and Tonics. Eventually researching the restaurants, I decided to have oysters at one and dinner at the other because the latter had cheese fondue as a starter. YUM. I popped in to the cheese fondue one, secured reservations for an hour away and set off to have my oysters. I immediately felt bad upon entering Maxie’s Bistro for my oysters, because though the reviews had called it a wine bar, it was actually table service...and I felt a bit guilty for taking one of their tables on a busy night, given that I was only ordering champagne and oysters, but I did it anyway, lol.
It’s a cute little place and they do seem to know their wines quite well, though the by-the-glass selection is limited. The food menu looks lovely but unfortunately, they didn’t really serve my oysters properly and they’d been shucked kind of lazily. After a second glass of champagne, it was close enough to my reservation, so I settled the bill and wandered outside to take a few photos from the outside terrace.
Taking the long way back down to my dinner destination, the Maison Bleue, I was quickly seated in a lovely spot next to a window. It was a bit odd to eat alone there, as it’s quite romantic and quaint, but by that point in the weekend, I didn’t really care. Ordering a glass of Riesling, my beloved cheese fondue as a starter and duck confit with gruyere mash as my main, I settled in to people watch. I was lovely to just sit and do nothing and I didn’t even mind that the service was quite slow...lol, the bread was heavenly. My cheese fondue eventually came, 3 different types in mini filo cups with baguette pieces for dipping. I’d been a little wary of the fondue, because it sounded like a hefty starter, but the portion was perfect. After another glass of wine and a long while, my duck confit arrived and it was tasty...though not great and I couldn’t really figure out why. I finished off the meal with (delicious) panna cotta with berries and made my way back to the hotel. It was quite late when I got back, so I was soon asleep.
Day Five (the wee hours):At precisely 04:22, I awoke feeling Not Good. I thought I might be hungover, so I got up to get a glass of water from the bathroom. Without warning, while standing there, I was suddenly
violently ill. 10 minutes later, staggering back to bed with not a drop left in my system, drenched in sweat and feeling like the star of an Alien remake, I collapsed into bed. I won’t continue with the god awful details, but needless to say, the holiday was over. I never did have that second Balmoral breakfast and I barely got myself dressed and packed and downstairs to check out at noon. My train was at 12:30, but I was seriously considering eating the horrendous cost of another night in the hotel and another train ticket. I just didn’t possibly see how I was going to get myself all the way back to my flat in London in that condition. But I somehow did.
When I saw my doorman friend and one of the concierges I had come to know, they could both tell that I was in utter misery, I could barely stand...summoning the hotel chauffeur, the concierge loaded all of my things into the car and I was blissfully driven around the corner to the station, saving me the walking down long staircase.
My seat companions were as nice as can be and when I apologised in advance for being the Seatmate From Hell, one of them gave me her sleeping bag to make a pillow out of...and brought me ice chips, because I couldn’t even stand water at that point but was dying of thirst. Sadly, I only caught a tiny glimpse of what looked like a beautiful view along the east coast...it hurt to watch anything. After sleeping for about half the trip, I felt much better and managed some water and juice.
But unfortunately, I was back and forth nearly all week and couldn’t sit up, let alone go to work, until Thursday afternoon. Who knows what caused the illness, I try not think about what I might have eaten to cause it, lol.
It's a (now) comical end to what was otherwise a lovely holiday...I really loved Scotland and I can’t wait to go back and eat at Rogano and The Chip and see the Burrel Collection in Glasgow, brave Arthur’s Seat, have that second Balmoral breakfast and watch the east coast view on the train.
But for now, London will have to do ;)