World Chump - Wanderlust

One thing that still hasn't changed is that, even with worldchump status, I still have two kids whose plans differ from my own...considerably so. Gone are the days when Liebi and I could stroll down the boulevards of a major city, take in the sights and have a leisurely lunch and dinner.

Of course, the kids themselves have graduated from playground to Playstation. They are as fascinated by electronics as anybody, so organizing activities for near tweens can be a challenge at times. But we do what we have to do to get them out of the house. What we need is a little magic. Enter child's best friend, Harry Potter.

Even before Harry Potter, Edinburgh comes to life in a testy way. Outside our window early in the morning, I hear a man shouting in that inimitable Scottish way, at another driver who dared to talk on the phone while driving. Yuuu ware toookin' on the f----n' phoooone! Axl and I hop on a double decker bus and ride downtown. Before that, a nice lady explains to us that you need exact change for the buses here. See Racket and the Rental Car a few posts ago (wouldn't that make for an interesting J.K. Rowling title?). Either way, it's a pound seventy for me, eighty pence for Axl. We go up the stairs and at the first opportunity grab the front seats in the upper deck...this is what Axl had aspired to after discovering the double-decker buses. That's one essential to-do item off his list.

We arrive at the National Museum, where a couple argues, shouting at each other over a long distance. Whoa, I'm thinking. This city is definitely awake now. We locate the statue on Chambers Street and wait for our tour guide to show up.

Edinburgh, the non-fictitious story has it, was the cradle of creation for J.K. Rowling in the 1990's. Rowling, a freshly divorced single mother, moved to Scotland with her baby daughter to escape from her husband and to be near her sister. There is the famous Elephant Cafe, where Rowling wrote while her baby slept. The Elephant Cafe is well aware of this, as it now labels itself 'The Birthplace of Harry Potter'. Good luck getting a table, a chair or even a foot in there.

There are other places in Edinburgh where J.K. Rowling found inspiration, either in writing or with her sketches that contributed to her books, like a cemetery (where we find the graves of Thomas Riddel and John McGonigal; Sound familiar, Potter fans? To me it's still Georgi Papdopolous, as in all Greek), a hotel room or an underground passage near the university. Of course, all of this is still as familiar to me as the legend of the McInirney Clan (whoever they were), but as a parent, you endure a two-hour Harry Potter walking tour.

Of course, Bash (or Liebi) could care less about Harry Potter or his ilk. This is where fortune lends a hand when we meet later at The National Museum. The National Museum happens to have a robot exhibition, which is right up Bash's alley. These days, Bash builds machines and robots out of cardboard boxes. Now it's time to witness the science and the history behind the real thing.

Another good family day in the end. Well done, Edinburgh. You pass the smell test for kids. 

By now, there is little doubt that Edinburgh qualifies as a great European city. History, culture, politics, overall influence, science, restaurant scene. If you go down the checklist of items needed for a bonafide high-quality city, you can see it's there. Check, check, check.

As far as the restaurant scene is concerned, there are more international menus on the table than you would expect from one of the northernmost European capitals. French, German, Thai, Chinese, Vietnamese, Indian, Middle Eastern...it's all there. What is even more remarkable is the fact that we decide to visit none of the above and instead just walk the 50 or so yards from our flat to the local pub.

The pub, or public house, is more than just an establishment that is licensed to sell alcoholic beverages. In too many places to mention, the pub is the raison d'etre, the central focus for communities. There's the main section featuring the TV screens for sports, along with the occasional slot machine preferred by loners or guests with a gambling streak. There is the wing reserved for families, people like us who would like to enjoy a few quiet drinks and dinner with the family.

Our pub in Bonnington appears insignificant, but that's just the thing about pubs, the it factor that makes them so popular. There's the second-hand peeling furniture you would never encounter at a Counry Club or at a Chez Luis, Chez Huis or Chez Duis-Whatever. The pub doesn't pretend to be anything it is not. Everybody is welcome, of course, but it is a popular spot with a broad appeal and intends to remain that way.

While we are having dinner - pub grub that consists of hamburgers for the kids, curry for Liebi and surprisingly good vegetarian dishes for myself - there are football (soccer) matches on the screens in the main room. And not just any matches, but Champions League, with one game featuring two English powerhouses, Tottenham and Manchester City. 

Now if you look at the bulletin board near the entrance, you'll find just what is on the agenda over the next couple of weeks. There's Quiz Night, a must at every pub, as I have learned. For some people, this is the uncontested highlight of their week. There are loads of prizes, plus (no doubt) the trophy that goes to the champions. 

Then again, there are more themes at work, as determined by the customer. There are karaoke pubs, biker pubs, the aforementioned sports pubs...and even a strip pub in town! How is that for diversity? This is the 'Where everybody knows your name' theme personified and perfected. I have been to the smallest pub in Edinburgh at Grassmarket and to the highest Irish pub in the world in Cusco, Peru. One thing they all have in common is the fact that I have never checked my wardrobe to see if I was underdressed or whether the evening would break the bank for me. 

At our pub in Bonnington, five goals are scored within less than a half hour in the Tottenham vs. Manchester City match, so the pub is rowdy tonight. And yet, Liebi and I are just there to (literally) drink it all in, with a few pints of Tennent's, a Scottish lager from Glasgow. We raise our glasses for a toast...to pubs everywhere.

Our first full day in Edinburgh will be spent walking, so there will be no wheels or guides - just us, the GPS and the sandstone buildings. This also means that the kids will howl in protest, but will learn to enjoy it once they realize there is no way back to their iPads and our cozy apartment...and they are eventually offered some passable entertainment of their own.

From our place in Bonnington, we start off past a cemetery and walk along the Water of Leith, the river cutting through our area. We just take the time and observe. This is not about how many tourist spots we can hit up in one day, although they will have their time and place. For now, it's a sandstone building here, a primary school there, every now and then an abandoned public building that screamed importance or even relevance at one time, but now is bolted and boarded up, a dive not even suitable for squatters any more.

Quite interesting are the parks, and how they are mainly used. It seems the Germans, for example, maximize their areas more, while the British are perfectly content in leaving large grassy areas bare. There is no secret formula here that guarantees success. British parks with their gardens are skillfully maintained and seem to be a haven for people who seem to enjoy a quick walk, with or without partner or pet.

Once we hit New Town, the suburban feel is gone, and the urban settings are more prominent. Here's a statue of King George IV (on Hanover Street, of course), of all people. The buildings rise in height while the traffic rises in volume. There are the typical boxy black city cabs roaming the streets, dozens of double-decker buses, and cars, simply too many cars. Luckily, there are also plenty of pedestrians that understand what a good walk can do for them and the environment. We start the steep ascent up to Edinburgh Castle.

You couldn't overlook Edinburgh Castle, even if it wasn't on a high hilltop looming over the city. Even as charming as the castle itself, though, is the rocky hill that features so prominently as its base and foundation, if you will. It seems each picture you make of Edinburgh Castle is 50% rocky hill, which, evidently, is the very reason the castle was built there. I would find it hard to imagine charging that castle with horses, and mountain goats never qualified as draft animals. And since people in the Middle Ages didn't give a toss about complaining tourists hiking up the hill a half-millennium later, the location is perfect.

Edinburgh Castle itself is not cheap, that's at least 60 pounds for the admission of the whole family. Included in the price of admission is the visitation right of the Scottish war museum, the Old Prison, and the viewing of the Crown Jewels. We are lucky that a wedding takes place up at the cathedral, complete with bagpipes and all. Impressive, as are the panoramic views with countless photo opportunities.

To give the kids a bit of a breather, we visit the Camera Obscura and World of Illusions, a must-see if you have kids. That said, it's another 50 pounds right there, so we're already 110 pounds short by the end of the afternoon for admissions alone. This town sure isn't cheap.

From the roof of the Camera Obscura, I look over at the roof of a church, at least that's what I think it is until I see dozens of windows on the rooftop revealing office space. This is called The Hub, one of the most prominent features on Edinburgh's famous Royal Mile, but, curiously enough, it is not a church. This city is full of surprises.

We still need to walk back, although we use an alternate route down the Royal Mile, with its acrobats, mimes, and caped tour guides. Again, if you plan a long walk with children, make sure they are also entertained. And if they are tired of witches and wizards, ice cream will do just fine.

We have another item on the agenda later in the day, though. That would be the pub.

Our GPS says it will take us one hour and ten minutes to get from Glasgow to our vacation rental in Edinburgh. Come again? That's 55 miles, or about the way the crow flies, right? Does the GPS assume our rental has a go-kart engine? Or is that the actual time it takes a for a crow to fly there?

It turns out that estimate was conservative, and in the end, it takes us, minus a stop at a supermarket, an hour and twenty minutes. Chalk that up to the sluggish traffic from Glasgow to Edinburgh and something called speed limits. At least the drivers are well behaved and polite. There are plenty of kamikazes on the German autobahn, and I'm sure there are a few in these parts, but I have yet to meet them. 

Edinburgh's planning of their city is suspect, to be polite. There are streets crossing at the wrong angles, traffic circles where they don't belong and intersections where there should be t-intersections or simple two-way roads. I picture the city's engineers mulling over the infrastructure projects. It probably looks like this, says McGregor. No, says McDonald shaking his head. More like this. Wrong, McIntyre (or you're welcome to pick your Scottish stereotypical name of choice here) chimes in, your numbers are off. How to solve it? Throw the dice, may the luckiest engineer win. Even so, we arrive in Scotland's capital with our sanity in tact and anxious to see what a British supermarket, Morrison's in this case, has to offer. Plenty, as it turns out. Quantity and quality are more than adequate. We buy plenty of groceries, and the price is right, too. 

In Edinburgh, we see the rows and rows of sandstone buildings, a lot of them with that tell-tale dark tint. I plead ignorance here. Why are they in this drab, depressing, may I say, even filthy gray? Is it the weather? Pollution? Carbon debris from the stone's components? As somebody who's lived in U.S. cities for such a long time, I'll be the last person to question any European country's environmental policies, but just why the drab color? And shouldn't Germany still have it too, being that they still burn coal as well? Even so, there is no doubt that Edinburgh is still a marvelous city. There are fleets of double deck buses cruising down the streets, the parks and gardens all seem to have a prominent part as well. 

Next, we locate our apartment in Bonnington, a nice neighborhood about 10-15 minutes from the city center. There's actually a pub a half a block away from us. Wonderful. The first crisis occurs when the car alarm just won't stop going off. Turns out that one person in our party didn't shut the door properly, I'm thinking. Or maybe not. The car alarm goes off about 12 times before I finally shut it off. I certainly didn't envision dying this way, by a marauding army of kilt-wearing Scots trampling down my door and butchering me and my family while the bagpipes (and the car alarm) are droning in the background. But a faulty car alarm is sufficient to disturb the peace amongst a group of Buddhist monks, let alone a first world civilization that supposedly prides itself on efficiency. Here, even I consider scouring the market for a commercially available hand grenade before I manage to shut off the alarm. 

For those who have kept score: Rental car company thugs 2, us 0. 

But we're in Edinburgh, so that's all that matters for now.