Chapter and Verse: Edinburgh, Scotland

A William Wallace impersonator cuts a menacing figure on the cobbled streets of Edinburgh. His face painted blue and white – the colors of the Scottish flag – he wears a fur coat and wields a mock medieval weapon, while rhapsodising in a thick Scottish accent about freedom.   In case you’re not up to speed on Scottish history (or you’ve never watched Braveheart), William Wallace is a national hero. The landowner turned military strategist led successful battles to defend Scotland’s independence during the 13^th century, before he was eventually captured and delivered to London to be hanged, drawn and quartered by King Edward I of England.

700 years later the issue of independence has resurfaced once again in Scotland. Next year the country will go to the polls to decide whether it wants to be part of the United Kingdom or not, a referendum that has been pushed through by Alex Salmond’s Scottish National Party. In another 700 years, will they be impersonating him on the streets of Edinburgh? Only time will tell.

Talk of independence has dominated conversations here in Edinburgh, that is, until the arrival of the Edinburgh Fringe Festival which was in town until August 26. This annual extravaganza is the world’s largest arts festival and attracts some of the biggest names in comedy, cabaret, theatre and music. For the better part of three weeks Edinburgh is transformed into a circus and this year was no different. To give you an idea of the scale of it, consider this; almost 2 million tickets were issued for 45,464 performances of 2,871 shows over the 25 day schedule. It’s epic. If you want to see the best shows and have the pick of accommodations you need to start planning now for next year’s event, seriously.

A city of the literati, Edinburgh is a perfect location for the world’s biggest arts festival; this is, after all, the home of Irvine Welsh (Trainspotting), Ian Rankin (Inspector Rebus) and Robert Louis Stevenson, the author most famous for The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and My Hyde. It was also home to the great Scottish poet, Hugh MacDiarmid, who described the city as a “mad God’s dream.” It’s easy to see how Edinburgh has helped inspire such nefarious plots and biblical descriptions, particularly when you get lost down its cobblestone streets and medieval alleys. Late at night these are the haunts of the brilliant ghost walkers, who spin yarns of varying accuracy to titillated tourists.

Local raconteurs will also take you along the Royal Mile. This tenement lined street is the artery of the Old Town and leads up to the ramparts of  Edinburgh Castle, which commands panoramic views over the Scottish capital. It’s at the top of the Royal Mile that I come across the William Wallace impersonator, who acts out his passionate performance in spite of the rain. Tomorrow I will read a story in the papers about one of his competitors being arrested for firing replica guns as part of his routine – not exactly in the spirit of the Fringe Festival, which is renowned for comedy.

I conclude at the castle that rain enhances the Edinburgh aesthetic. I’ve spent many Christmas holidays here and it looks its best in the snow, but moody skies are the next best thing – somehow Edinburgh’s gothic cityscape just doesn’t sit right with blue skies and Mediterranean temperatures. But for reasons other than the rain, I’ve decided not to traipse around the castle today. I’ve been before and while it’s certainly one of the most spectacular citadels I’ve stepped foot in, there are other attractions vying for my attention.

One of them is The Real Mary King’s Close, which is underground and conveniently sheltered from the rain. But that’s not always been the case; this famous street was once a thriving residential area until the authorities built the Royal Exchange on top of it.

Vestiges of the original neighborhood remain; the ground floors of many houses and shops were left standing to provide foundations for the building above, which is now the Edinburgh City Chambers.

This ghost town in the bowels of Edinburgh gives you a beguiling insight into the history of the city. Its secrets are unlocked by theatrical tour guides, who act the parts of former residents; they paint a picture of gruesome crimes, torturous punishment and the Black Death, which visited Edinburgh in 1645 and decimated the population.

Another reason why I prefer Edinburgh in the rain is because it goes better with Scotch; you just can’t beat walking into a busy pub, taking off your wet jacket and warming up over a dram of Scotland’s finest. Sipping it outside in the sunshine just isn’t the same, so I’m not disappointed to emerge from Mary King’s Close into more rain.

Traditional boozers abound in Edinburgh, but some of my favorites are scattered along Rose Street. One of them is The Kenilworth, which serves excellent cask ale, fine whiskey and has a food menu which includes Scotch eggs, haggis and line-caught cod with chips, all of which I would heartily recommend. However, it’s the pub itself that keeps drawing me back. Dating back to 1904, it takes its name from a novel by Sir Walter Scott (whose portrait hangs outside) and has one of the most resplendent interiors I have seen, with its hand-painted tiles, mahogany bar and intricate ceiling alcoves. Edinburgh is peppered with charming pubs like The Kenilworth and the best way of discovering your favorite is by staggering between as many as you can. Most have good culinary offerings too, which is surprising considering Scotland’s reputation for deep frying confectionary.

With the rain still seizing I embark on a mission to climb Arthur’s Seat, a small hill in Holyrood Park on the outskirts of the city centre. Some claim this mount takes its name from the 5^th century monarch, King Arthur, but all I know is that it offers some of the finest views of Edinburgh. The panorama is punctuated by Edinburgh Castle and the gothic spires of the Old Town, but Arthur’s Seat also offers glimpses of the New Town. Dubbed the “Athens of the north,” it is a masterpiece of neo-classic and Georgian architecture and together with the Old Town was declared a World Heritage Site by UNESCO in 1995.

Perhaps history will be as kind to the Scottish Parliament Building, which sits awkwardly in the shadows of Arthur’s Seat. This contemporary and controversial building is where plans were hatched for Scottish independence, although to date the gregarious design and cost of the building has probably triggered more debate than the question of a referendum.

As I sit atop Arthur’s Seat the rain starts again; the weather here really is like Jekyll and Hyde. It doesn’t matter, though. Before me is a city with more pubs than I could shake a Robert Louis Stevenson novel at and I’m off to find another one. I will order whiskey, eat a Scotch egg and finish my book. Then, regretfully, I will jump on a train and close the book on my trip to Edinburgh.