After my 12-hour night sleep and the next day’s orientation, my new group of friends and I went out to eat in the city. We didn’t actually know where to go, but we decided to have a walk about and decide eventually. The first place we stopped could not fit our number, which was 10 strong, so we decided to split up and separate. One half went to Indian food while five others and I went off looking for something more Scottish. We passed by a man we had seen briefly at the IFSA-Butler Orientation, a big man with a beard and a jovial look about him. After briefly debating the idea, two of our number ran off after him to ask him for directions. He responded quite warmly and gave us some great pub ideas. We went to a place called ‘Abernach’, which was a lovely little place on the Royal Mile. I legally ordered my first drink - Strongbow Cider - and mustered my courage to order a full meal of Haggis. It was actually pretty good. It tasted like ground beef almost - the primary difference being the texture - which was slightly slimy and almost a bit seedy. It’s hard to explain, but it really wasn’t bad at all. I finished it all, along with the mashed potatoes and mashed turnips that came with it, each portioned off by massive oatcakes. Very rich, the lot of it. We then had a traditional dessert (the name is slipping my mind - something that starts with a ‘c’ and maybe ends with a ‘-ch’... which doesn’t do well to narrow it down) with a round of whisky shots, which we got a variety of, from peaty to smoky to a balance of the two (the only name I recognized was Laphroaig). When my friend Yannick asked how we should go about eating and drinking this together (as is culturally advised), and asked if we should take the whisky as a shot, the waitress gasped. “This is good whisky! You don’t shoot it, you taste it! It isn’t Tequila! We have Sambuca and stuff for that! This stuff is great - sip it, then add some water for flavor.” That wasn’t the only inadvertently culturally offensive thing we did, but it was all understood (likely because we were on the Royal Mile - well solicited by tourists). I believe we even cleared out the back dining area...
Afterwards, we set off down the street, found our other half, and headed towards the nearest dive-looking pub. We found one with a sign outside that said “Live Music, Open Until 3AM” and ventured inside. That’s another thing I should note - almost nothing in Scotland is open 24/7. Nearly everything closes at 5 or 6pm, with the exception of pubs and restaurants, but most of the city is closed down by 9pm. Thursdays are their late night shopping days, with shops staying open until as late as 8pm! It’s actually kind of nice, because it promotes the idea that there are real people here. Anyway, we ventured into the pub and had a few rounds, and we actually found an excellent den with a table just large enough for all of us. It was lit orange, with a dusky feel, and we all happily drank, shared stories, and laughed the night away. Quite fabulous, really.
The next night, we found a cheap Indian place and had kebabs and even tried the famous Scottish soft drink - Irn-Bru (pronounced Iron-Brew). Brewed by a secret Scottish recipe for over 100 years, this bright orange drink contains 33% of your daily allotment of sugar, and it tastes, quite literally, like liquid bubblegum. Now the tables were turned - whereas I was willing to have Haggis and my friends were not, they were all willing to try Irn-Bru, and I could only have (and stomach) a wee taste. Afterwards, we went to a club on Grassmarket called ‘Three Sisters’. Every review that my friends had heard of the place said it was the place where Americans go to get drunk and throw up. So, of course, we went.... for reasons beyond me actually. It was rather trashy, with a DJ who had a set playlist and couldn’t take requests to a crowd of people aged 30+. Granted, that isn’t terribly old, but for a club scene, it’s definitely up there. I think you can guess which nightlife experience I enjoyed more.
Here’s a few pictures from the bus & walking tour we took on Friday:
Edinburgh was once called "The Athens of the North". This is a partially finished Parthenon - never actually finished, because it cost too much. Frugal, these Scots.
The view at dusk from Calton Hill.
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