Edinburgh - Grey Stone, Grey Weather, Sublime Whisky

You know... after spending a few months in the midst of another typical London winter - with the weather rainy, cloudy, and generally rubbish - the idea of a city break sounded pretty appealing.  A change of scenery, and a chance to chill out, are a perfect recipe for kicking the winter blues.  Some folks think the beaches of Ibiza, others the Greek Isles.

Me?  I picked Edinburgh.  Yup, the cold and bleak, yet constantly amazing Edinburgh... Auld Reekie, as it's called by the Scots, never disappoints.  And besides, bad weather in Scotland is almost a blessing, as it provides a guilt-free excuse to retreat to one of the city's many pubs.

As for an itinerary - Edinburgh is one of those cities that you enjoy best when you plan the least.  Basically, it's a matter of walking out the door of your hostel, picking a direction, and seeing what adventures await.

So, that's what I did.  My first night got me into the city in time to sign up to a Literary Pub crawl, where two actors take turns telling tales of the city's literary greats like Sir Walter Scott and Robert Burns.  It was a funny concept, with the raffish and slightly dishevelled one delighting in stories of the authors' love of the drink and the ladies, while the other put in a valiant effort explaining their contributions to the world's literature.  Throw in four pubs, including a fantastic little cellar bar right off the Royal Mile, and it was a great night out:

The next day I woke up early and wonder of wonders, it was actually sunny out.  Scarcely able to believe my own eyes, I quickly hit the streets in time to catch the Castle with its grey walls turned gold with the light.  Wandering through the Kirk of the Canongate got me some great views...

... and then I wandered up towards the Royal Mile, where I found out that I had the city virtually to myself.

Don't get me wrong, Edinburgh is grand no matter what time you're there, but there's something magical about being able to tread the stone walkways alone and imagine what it must have been like through the centuries.

Oh, and a note about the city - Edinburgh might give San Francisco a run for the money as the "City Where Being the Postman Really, Really Gets You Fit"... the Castle and the Old city are built on a granite upcropping, with steep, narrow alleyways with loads of stairs trailing off to either site.  It makes for breath-taking views, but by the time you're there to enjoy 'em, your breath has been, well, taken.

A great breakfast and mocha at an organic cafe on the Royal Mile, and then I checked out the rest of the Royal Mile, eventually arriving at the newer palace, the Holyrood.

I balked about spending $20 to walk around, and besides, I was hungering for something a bit more active, so I turned right and started my ascent towards Arthur's Seat, a 800 foot granite peak towering over Edinburgh.

The Scots are pretty smart.  Rather than just building on this site, they've made the entire area a park, full of trails and equally full of Scots and tourists out enjoying the walk.  Throw in a bunch of dogs having a blast, and you can't help enjoy yourself, even as your legs are screaming that maybe it might be time to take a break.

Arriving up top, I was treated to the promised 360 degree views of the city, the harbor and the Highlands in the distance:

Stunning.

I just kept circling the peak taking it all in, but eventually the biting wind chased me off, and I headed downhill at a nice, fast, gravity-assisted pace.  Why the jaunty stride?  My guidebook recommended the Sheep's Heid pub in a picturesque village called Duddingston - where a pub has been in existence in various forms since 1360.

Popping my head, I got a great spot by the gas fire.  Throw in a pint and a good book, and I was set for a comfy hour before catching the bus back into town.

Now, while Old City is a warren of lanes and byways, the New City (well, new to the Scots - it's only a mere 300 years old) is a masterpiece of organised city planning, with broad avenues of fantastic Georgian buildings full of cafes, restaurants, and more than a few pubs.  Throw in a four story outdoor shop, and a tasty seafood lunch and it was  a great way to spend an afternoon.

The rest of the afternoon and evening was pretty chilled out.  A few whiskies at a pub watching the footie, then I headed back out trying some night-time photography with some new camera gadgets:

I was a bit let down by the music side of things.  It being the off-season, many of the folk music pubs were pretty quiet, and the only one I found was a guy belting out Bon Jovi's "Living on a Prayer".  Don't get me wrong - it's a great song, but not exactly what I was looking for in terms of Scottish culture, so... 'twas off to bed.

My last day in the city was much the same as the first.  I got in an early morning hike up Arthur's Seat, heading not for the peak but along the Salisbury Crags - a series of sheer rocky faces overlooking the Castle.

Just fantastic, and afterwards, I was well-ready for some breakfast - this time at Mrs. Forsyth's Tea Room - tucked down a little alley.  Prim and proper, and oh-so-Scottish, it was like being transported back to a more polite time.  She was full of chatty advice, all delivered in the most charming of Scottish accents - all "och's", "aye's", and so on - I loved it.

With my flight leaving in the afternoon, and bad weather threatening, I headed over to Edinburgh's two modern art museums.  Just like modern art in general, they were... interesting.  Having the most cutting-edge art housed in renovated 17th century mansions is a weird vibe, especially as one featured a pretty amusing neon sign outside:

Alas, after filling up on art for two hours, it was finally time to head to the airport and get ready to face the work week.  Forget tacky souvenirs, for the next few days, my aching legs served as a reminder of a great, even if only the tiniest bit sunny, city break.

Playing Tourist in My Own Country (Trip's End)

NOTE:  Yup, this is a bit of a long one, trying to squeeze in my six weeks in the US into one post.  But, at last, finally finally I can now say I finished my RTW blog a mere two months late.  In fact, I feel like it's time for a...

Right, so after four weeks among the frenzied chaos and energy of China, my next leg had me heading up to Mongolia.  An abrupt transition from the Great Wall to the great Mongolian steppes and mountains intrigued me; I was pretty fired up to spend a month in this country that is more than merely exotic, more than merely a name I only knew from playing RISK back in the day.

Nope, Mongolia is far more than that... promising me sights of the birthplace of Genghis Khan and Mongolian BBQ, unforgettable (if not exactly tasty) cocktails made of fermented mare's milk and stunning vistas so sweeping that photographs barely do them justice.

But, life does have a way of throwing the odd curveball every now and again (um, that's like a googly to you cricket-loving Brits), and you just have to adjust.  In this case, my folks called a week before my China leg ended and gave me the scary news that my dad was going in for a fairly risky surgery on short notice.

Right.  Scratched the trip, and rebooked immediately a flight for SF...  With a frantic email to my travel agent, I was booked on a flight, not to Ulan Bataar, but a three leg flight from Beijing to Tokyo, LA, and then SF.

It was quite a culture shock, to go from the booming but raw energy of Bejing to the laid-back, "it's cool, man" culture of San Francisco.  But, it was a nice problem to have, and the first few days flew by in a blur, turning into weeks and then over a month.

First, the most important bit... my dad came through the surgery with flying colors.  Hurrah to the UCSF medical team - who rock.  My mom, brother, and I were all able to celebrate first over a burger in the always cool Carl/Cole neighborhood, and then a curry and several whiskies as we explored a bit of SF's Inner Sunset district.

Once that huge weight was off our shoulders, I took stock.  While not Mongolia, I resolved that with six weeks in SF, there was no good reason I couldn't play tourist in my own country.  It's the same old story - you live in an amazing place for most of your life, and keep meaning to get to certain sights "someday", yet never do.

Well, over the next few weeks, in between some good all-around faffing and catching up with family and friends, plus showing a remarkable lack of skill playing soccer on my brother's indoor team...

...I made a fair stab at reducing the list, starting with a day hike at Muir Woods.  Think really big redwood trees.  Huge.

... to finally exploring the north tip of the world-class nature preserve at Point Reyes

... checking out the trails of the Marin Headlands and their sublime view back toward SF

... climbed to the top of Mt. St. Helena, overlooking Sonoma and Napa counties, with the bonus of finding a hiking partner who was a spitting image of Gimli the dwarf from Lord of the Rings.

... day trip flying kites and exploring Mendocino with my friend Emily

... reliving my uni days at Berkeley, including gorging on the classic Cal institution - Steve's Korean BBQ...

... and of course watching far too much World Cup, including the final with my mom and brother at a pub which had me drinking a beer at 11am.  Quite a first in front of my parents!

... plus some day trips to SF and two reunions.  The first was super fun and a great excuse for all the Hawkins clan to come together, play golf and poker, and heckle every few years.  In this case, I found out that my youngest cousins are now drinking age, and one is even playing ultimate.  Crazy.

But the other was my (gasp) 20th high school reunion... I'm sure everyone says the same thing, but man, does it strain credibility to think that we've been out for so long.  It makes us sound very nearly adult, and that's a scary thought.  But, it was a great time, catching up with loads of fun folks, and realizing that despite all of the hijinks we pulled and (somehow) survived, we actually turned out okay...

I didn't just stick around the Bay Area either, as my friend Emily and I headed off on yet another of our road trips - in this case, a week plus exploring the Grand Tetons and Yellowstone.  Way, way too many good memories to list here, especially as Dave and Drea met up with us for two days as well.  We'll just call it one of our best road trips ever.  Period.

Finally, I got in a few days up in "the city that I could definitely see myself moving to" - Portland, Oregon.  A great mix of San Francisco's culture without the sticker shock, plus Seattle's forests and mountains with a bit less rain, Portland's an amazing place.  Throw in a city that loves bicycles, and I'm pretty much sold on the place :)

In this case, I got to catch up again with my good friends Ross and Tracy, plus Dave and Drea in their fantastic new house.  Well, "new" can be misleading.  Built in the early 1900's, what would be a relatively recent subdivision in the UK qualifies it as a near-museum piece in our young country.

Beers were drunk, and we regressed big-time, from playing with Ross and Tracy's great kids to getting our video game fix in a pub that featured 50+ old school games from the 80's and dozens of pinball machines besides.

That should have been it for the RTW trip.  I had it planned that I would fly back to SF, have a full day with the family, and then head out the 16th for London.  Except... except for one minor detail that didn't smack me in the face until 1:00pm on the 15th.  Yup, turns out my flight back to the UK was that very day, at 5:00pm.

Drat.  Darn.  Sugar.  (or insert your own favorite swear word here)

It all worked out, but after frantically trying to contact customer service, my travel agent, and whomever else, then chucking the heaps of stuff I'd accumulated in my travels and in the States into two bags, my Mom, Emily and I all piled into the car and bombed down to SF at warp speed... only to find out I missed the flight by 10 minutes.

(Repeat swearing here.)

But all's well that ends well, as Virgin was decidedly UN-RyanAir-like, and rescheduled my flight for the next day at no extra cost.  So, after all that stress and anxiety, I got to do a last BBQ for my family and Emily as we originally planned.  Perfect, and I'm sure I'll be reminded of my error many times down the road - heckling by the family is a great way to end three and a half months of travelling...

Now that I'm back in London - my next task?  Forget Kilimanjaro or Everest... it's all about finding a job back in London.  Know anyone who's hiring? ;)