Fischberg Flashback 9: Scotlandia

 Note: this was originally posted to Fisch and Chips on September 28, 2013.  I've since made a few grammatical changes to appease my inner editor.  The original post had relatively few photos, so I've added some more pictures from my records to round things out.

For the past three weeks or so, I’ve developed patterns and procedures in order to ease my way into life abroad.  When work is assigned, I do it as quickly as possible.  When there are breaks in class, I have lunch at the same place every day.  When I am sleepy in the morning, I buy a donut on the way to school.  On weekends and Tuesdays when I don’t have immediate work, I go sightseeing.  When anyone invites me, I go to the pub.  Whenever something interesting happens, I write a blog post.  As a result of all these predictable patterns, I’ve become quite content with my surroundings, but the novelty is starting to wear off.  Therefore, I definitely enjoyed this most recent week, which took all my fancy calculated patterns and flushed them down the toilet, exposing me once again to the new and exciting!

Sadly, this week did not get off to a great start, as I came down with mild cold sometime on Saturday night or Sunday morning.  The AHA had warned me that this always happens to at least one American student every semester-something about how American immune systems are never quite prepared for British germs.  Thankfully, my economics class on Tuesday was cancelled, meaning I only had to stomach classes while ill for only one day.  The remaining weekdays were all reserved for a trip to Scotland: three days of exploring Edinburgh and getting engulfed in the intrigue-filled system of Scottish politics!

This three-day excursion got off to quite a start, as I had to be at King’s Cross Station in time for the 8:00 train to Edinburgh.  To make sure I’d have ample time, I set my alarm to 5:20 and went to bed relaxed and prepared.  When I woke up at around 1, I went back to sleep, sure that, between my alarm and my super-prepared biological clock, I’d have no problem getting up and getting to King’s Cross on time.

When I finally woke up and checked my phone, the time was 6:30.

6:30!!!!  Without delay, I immediately changed, packed my last few things, and headed out the door to the Tube station as quickly as I could.  Grabbing the first Piccadilly Line I found, I headed to King’s Cross with utmost haste.  Never has the Tube felt more annoyingly slow than it did then.  I got off the Tube, sprinted up an escalator and through a long hallway (Keep in mind that I was still ill to realize exactly how fun this was.), only to finally find my group just as they were about to board!  That was a shave a little too close for comfort (Then again, what do I know about shaving?  I have a beard.)!

How had this close tardiness occurred?  I’m not 100%, but I probably either A) slept through the alarm, or B) magically disarmed the alarm in my sleep.  Whatever the cause, this isn’t the first time this has happened, and I’m afraid it probably won’t be my last…*gulp*

Anyhoo, we got on a train and headed north, passing field after field of grass and sheep as the menacing grey sky loomed above.  No one sat with me, but that was OK, as it meant I could indulge in fun activities such as reading for class assignments, working on class assignments, working on assignments from Willamette’s Office of International Affairs (I really need a life), and reading the newspaper.  The last thing was somewhat interesting, as the newspaper in question was The Sun.  For those not familiar with this particular publication, The Sun is basically a populist right-wing tabloid that has had all its dignity removed and replaced with 10 pages of sports, pun-filled headlines, prominent use of the word “genocide” while criticizing the Labour Party, Islamaphobic letters to the editor, and a topless woman on Page 3 (you read that right), making it an amusing read.  Hours later, we crossed the River Tweed, which has historically been the border between England and Scotland.  Within an hour, we had pulled into a train station and were now in Scotland!

The River Tweed

To be exact, we were in Edinburgh, the capital of Scotland.  To be exact, we stayed in a special youth hostel in New Town.  At this point, I should probably give a quick lesson in Edinburgh geography, which I will be referring to a lot in the coming paragraphs.  There are three main portions of Edinburgh: West End (which is in the west, and where I never went, so it won’t be discussed), Old Town (in the southeast), and New Town (in the northeast).  New Town is the newer precinct (Captain Obvious to the rescue!), as most of the buildings there date back 200 or less years, while Old Town has buildings dating back to the Middle Ages.  For comparison purposes, New Town looks like this:

And Old Town looks like this:

I got to see both sections multiple times over the course of our excursions on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday.

Wednesday’s excursion was to Edinburgh Castle, a massive fortress in Old Town that has historically been used as a royal palace and a military command center.  I was pleased to discover that, like the Tower of London, it had been used as a prison over the course of its centuries-old history, making it a new and legitimate stop on the old Criminal Justice Pilgrimage.

After seeing a few rooms in the castle, including St. Margaret’s Chapel, I spent some time on the battlements, where my breath was taken away by the beautiful vista of the surrounding city and countryside.

A panoramic shot.  The landmass in the distance is Fife, home to Macduff.

Also visible from the battlements: this pet cemetery for the dogs of military officers dating back to Victorian times

Also on the battlements: Mons Meg, this big-@$$ cannon used to defend Edinburgh Castle

 

After then seeing the Scottish Crown Jewels (which were very cool, but photography wasn’t allowed), I then fell into my ghoulish patterns and sought out the prison; or prisons, as it turned out.  To be exact, there are two prisons housed within Edinburgh Castle’s walls, both of them thankfully close to one another.

The first prison was a series of dark and dismal chambers, some of them underground, which were used to hold prisoners of way, notably those from the War of American Independence and the Napoleonic Wars.  The prison felt very much like a medieval dungeon, despite its 18^th and 19^th century uses.

The HMS George, a model ship made by incarcerated POWs

The second prison was a more humane collection of solitary confinement cells dating back from the Victorian Era, used to confine unruly soldiers from the castle’s garrison.  It felt interesting to compare this cellblock to the previous prison and see how far prisons had changed in Edinburgh over the course of under a century.

Having seen all that I wanted to see, I left Edinburgh Castle with my group, happy as a clam.  We topped off the day by visiting the Scottish National Gallery, having dinner back at the hostel, and having drinks at a nearby pub, where I downed my first pint of Guinness.  All in all, it was an excellent introductory day to Scotland!

Thursday’s excursion into Old Town took us to St. Giles’ Cathedral (very beautiful), the headquarters of the Church of Scotland, and the National Museum of Scotland.  The National Museum of Scotland is filled with all manners of fascinating historical artifacts, but only one thing captured my undivided attention: the Maiden.  What is the Maiden?  White text time!  It was the Scottish successor to the Halifax Gibbet (Remember that from my first blog entry?) and a predecessor to the French guillotine.  In simpler terms, it was a huge beheading device with a large blade weighted with lead that was used to execute more than 150 convicts and political prisoners from the years 1564 to 1710.  I had heard of this machine before, but I never thought I would actually see it for myself!

After finishing up at the museum (or, as I’ve dubbed it, The Giant Building That Houses The FREAKING MAIDEN), we then went to the Scottish Parliament to observe a session of questions for the First Minister.  There are two things about Scottish politics one needs to know:

1)    Scotland will be voting on whether or not to declare independence from the United Kingdom in less than a year’s time.  Because of this, independence and its consequences are on everyone’s minds and came up frequently in the discussion.

2)    Members of Scottish Parliament do not pull punches when addressing their First Minister, nor does he when he rebuts them.  This makes for lively and never boring debate.

It was a fascinating experience, as it marked the first time I had personally seen political proceedings outside the United States.  Furthermore, given that the Scottish Parliament has a limited degree of independent power and passes its own criminal laws, it automatically counts as a Criminal Justice Pilgrimage stop.

Since we dispersed at 1pm, I still had most of an afternoon to slay.  I therefore decided to tag along with a group of other students as they took a bus ride to the coast.  It seems wherever I go, whether it be Hawaii, Oregon, or Scotland, I will always find myself on a beach.  For the record, the Scottish beach reminded me very much of the beaches back in Oregon, prompting a bit of homesickness (universitysickness, to be exact, I guess) to top off my actual physical sickness.

On Thursday evening, we were expected to provide for our own meals, so I tagged along with a group of my fellow students and we sought out a pub in Old Town.  There, I discovered the virtues of pub food (it’s quite good, especially the salads and chips), drank my first Scotch (Here’s a tip for drinking Scotch: DON’T.  To quote Ralph Wiggum, “they taste like burning.”), and got lost in Old Town while trying to return to the hostel (which is creepy as hell at night, as the churches and medieval buildings give off a horror movie vibe whenever you’re in a deserted street or alley).  All in all, it was an exciting day and final night in Scotland!

Friday’s excursion kept us mostly in New Town, where we saw the National Monument of Scotland (which sadly, is only half-finished and is surrounded by litter) and Nelson’s Monument, a monument to Admiral Horatio Nelson (Remember him from the last post?), which, like the Monument (Remember that from two posts ago?), is both a column and a climbable tower, though it only has 170 steps, as opposed to the Monument’s 311.  I climbed the tower, got some lovely views of Edinburgh, and was presented yet another certificate to commemorate my urge to climb things.

Nelson's Monument

A view from the top of Nelson's Monument

A panoramic view of Edinburgh from atop Nelson's Monument (National Monument of Scotland is in the lower right)

Panoramic view of nearby Salisbury Crags

 

After more group sightseeing, which brought us through a cemetery (with David Hume’s tomb-hey, that sort of rhymes), a pub, a library, and a bank, we were allowed to disperse for the day.  I couldn’t resist the temptation to see one more sight on my Criminal Justice Pilgrimage, so I sought out Mercat Cross, a place of public burnings and beheadings in Old Town that I had desperately wanted to see since learning about it at the National Museum of Scotland (AKA The Place With The MAIDEN andsomeotherstuffbutwhocaresbecauseithas THE MAIDEN).

Mercat Cross

Mercat Cross, minus one history nerd

The aforementioned tomb of Hume

By now, it was almost time to assemble back at the hostel, so I found my way back and regrouped.  On the train ride back, I mostly slept, but I also worked on this blog entry you are reading right now.  Once back at King’s Cross, I rode the Tube back into Eastcote, all worn out from northern travels.

…And that was my experience in Scotland!  Next week, I’ll be back in the saddle, watching Othello, turning in my first paper, sightseeing, hitting up pubs, and enjoying life back in England to the fullest.

…But first, I’ve got to rest for a bit.

Reflections:

Much like London, Edinburgh is a wonderful city for the historically minded.  I definitely made good use of my time there!  Around this time, I also started coming out of my shell around my classmates.  By the end of the semester, I had something of a reputation for being quick with a joke and one to liven up a room.  I don't think I have quite that reputation anymore, but some may disagree.

The Sun no longer has a topless woman on Page 3, so this goofy observation is another relic of the past.  From what I understand, it is still unfortunately a hotbed of reactionary bigotry.

As some of the photos above show, I spent my time abroad experimenting with panoramic shots.  I think I was improving somewhat around this time.

Fischberg Flashback 8: Parental Advisory

 Original date of post: September 20, 2013

Yesterday, as I finished my final classes for the week, I felt an amazing sense of relief.  I had been making study plans with my new friends and my various papers were starting to come into focus.  All in all, the work for the semester was looking doable and my worst fears were being put to ease.

My day was about to get better.

I put on my backpack, resolved a few paper-related things with my history professor, and left the AHA center, only to be greeted with this heartwarming sight:

That’s right-my parents had come to visit!

We caught up over beers at the The Old Mitre (known to some as The Bishop’s Mitre), an old English pub dating back to 1546, which my politics professor had recommended.

Though it was raining, we visited a few landmarks, such as St. Paul’s Cathedral and the Millennium Bridge, both of which are visible in this photograph:

All in all, it was fun day with a pair of great people!

…But wait, there’s more!  I met up with them again this morning to do more things today.  Our itinerary: visiting political locations such as 10 Downing Street and Parliament, followed by a walking tour called “The Inns of Court-London’s Legal Enclave” (my parents love me).

After loading up on photos at the political locations and having lunch, we embarked on the walking tour, which took us to the Inns of Court, the professional organizations that all English barristers must belong to.  Along the way, we passed through Lincoln’s Inn Field, a peaceful park that, as I was pleased to find out, used to be a place of execution, making it an accidental stop on the Criminal Justice Pilgrimage!

We also passed by a store selling robes and wigs for barristers and judges.  all of which seemed tantalizing…

Finally, we ended up in front of the Royal Courts of Justice, the highest civil court in the country.  The courthouse is a pretty big, cathedral-like building.

Overall, the tour was interesting, as it provided some interesting insights into a different legal system.

A few final bit of silliness: we went to Trafalgar Square afterward, which is located near the center of the city.  There, we paid respects to Admiral Lord Nelson, a hero of the Napoleonic Wars (and the victor of the Battle of Trafalgar, the namesake of the area):

…However, I was nearly savaged by one of the four giant lions surrounding his statue!

After escaping, I then examined the most unusual artwork at Trafalgar Square,…this giant blue chicken:

Having had a wonderful time with my parents for the last two days, I bid them adieu, wishing them well in regards to their upcoming trips to Portugal and Spain.  As for me, I’ve got places to go, things to see, work to do, and executions to study.

Present thoughts:

Given the extensive photos they've taken during their last few vacations, I'm starting to think I get my taste for adventurous travel from my parents.  They were good sports in helping to get these pictures. :)

I still consider the robes and horsehair wigs worn by British barristers to be quite stylish, though I imagine they might get uncomfortable during the summer.  I've never officially worn robes and wigs to court, but I would experiment with that look later in the 2013 fall semester...

Fischberg Flashback 7: Vertigo

 Original date of post: September 18, 2013

Given that on Wednesdays I have three classes over the course of the day, you’d think that those would be work-dominated days with few blog-worthy events.

You’re probably right, but this day was an exception!

At noon today, in between my drama and politics courses, we had a visit from a nearby police constable!  He was there to inform us about safety and security procedures, along with warning us about some of the scams that modern-day London thieves tend to pull (spoiler alert: there are a lot).  At the end, he offered out pamphlets, personal alarms, and jingly little bells to attach to our belongings:

I’ll give them a try, but I have a feeling that they might get annoying.  We’ll see!

Anyway, during history class, we went on a walking tour in the heart of the City of London (for those who don’t know, the City of London, also known as the Square Mile or the City, is the very center of the city, dating back to the Roman Empire and containing many financial buildings).  Along with plenty of some old churches, which dated back to the Middle Ages, there were plenty of examples of cutting-edge architecture:

Royal Exchange of London

Bank of England

We also passed by the Royal Exchange of London and the Bank of England.  However, our main destination was the Monument, a monument to the Great Fire of London, which decimated the city in 1666.  The Monument consists of one giant column that is actually a tower:

The tower can be climbed via a single spiral staircase within the tower.  It is tall.  Very tall:

That is a photo of the staircase taken from the top.  At the top of the tower, one can see a lovely view of the London skyline.

When I finally made it down the tower, I was presented with a certificate to mark my accomplishment (to be honest, 311 steps up and down was pretty exhausting, especially for someone of my physical caliber).

Now that I’ve seen a good deal of London from up high, I look forward to seeing even more at ground level soon!

Modern insight:

Ah, good old London scenery porn!  This is the kind of thing travel blogs were meant for.

Though I didn't immediately realize it, climbing the Monument awoke something in me.  For the remainder of the semester, I was mildly obsessed with finding higher and higher places to climb and photograph (especially places with ludicrously long staircases).  To this day, I can't pass up a good photo op from the top of a church, mountain, or government building.

The security bells weren't as long-lasting.  As brought up in a later post, I removed them in early October.  I still appreciate the courteous thought, though!

Looking back on this post, I missed an opportunity to use British spelling: I wrote "caliber" when I should have written "calibre!"  SHAME, 20-year-old me!

Random Fact 1: the blue pill-shaped skyscraper is officially called 30 St. Mary Axe, something I didn't learn for another year.  Every Londoner I talked to about it (which was admittedly only a few people at the University Center) called it "the Viagra Building," which it will always be to me. :P

Random Fact 2: I titled this post "Vertigo" back in the day because it's one of my father's favorite movies.  At the time I wrote this post, I had not seen it.  In the years since, I have seen it.  This has nothing to do with my travels abroad, but I'd recommend giving Vertigo a watch; it's got some lovely San Francisco scenery porn. :)

Fischberg Flashback 6: The Game is Afoot

 Original date of post: September 17, 2013

Two cultural landmarks in two days!  Looks like this week is going well indeed!

Last night, I ventured across the River Thames to find Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre, a replica of the famous Elizabethan theatre, to watch a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.  I did this in part because of my love of the arts, in part because of my love of history, in part to help me with my Shakespeare class, and in part because it was mandatory for all AHA students.

 

 

The production was not completely historically accurate (the roles of women were played by women, not young boys), but the layout of the theatre was impressive.  It was an open-air arena with seats surrounding the stage and courtyard.  The AHA tickets were for standing in the yard, so like a low-born groundling during the European Renaissance, I was forced to stand for three hours under the contemptuous gazes of the lucky ones with seats…although I’m sure most groundlings didn’t bring notebooks with them to take notes on the play as I did.

Yeah, as I said, this was work-related, as I had to examine the delivery of the play and be ready to discuss it in class.  All in all, the production was well-executed (albeit a tad slapstick in a few scenes) and the acting was top-notch, particularly the actor playing Oberon.  For those that don’t remember A Midsummer Night’s Dream, it’s the comedy involving Theseus, a troupe of bad actors, four foolish lovers, and an affair between Titania, Queen of the Fairies, and a half-man, half-donkey abomination.

I had a good time last night and I look forward to more exposure to the theatre in England.

Today, I had only one class, so I had the entire afternoon free to do as I pleased.  Because I was on top of my homework, I naturally decided to do some sightseeing, preferably for my Criminal Justice Pilgrimage.  This time, I sought out arguably the most famous address in London…

That’s right!  I went to 221B Baker Street, home to everyone’s favourite autistic cocaine-addicted detective, Sherlock Holmes (I’m half-joking about the autism and not joking about the cocaine)!

Today, this address marks the site of the Sherlock Holmes Museum, which honours the (fictional) detective by preserving his (fictional) household and commemorating his (fictional) accomplishments.  The first two floors consist of Sherlock’s (fictional) study, his bedroom, and personal rooms for Dr. Watson and Mrs. Hudson (the latter containing plaques that explained some of the details of Victorian life and how they played into Sherlock Holmes stories).  Where this museum truly gets interesting is the third floor, where, among many “artifacts” from the stories, there are about two dozen wax figures of characters, ranging from Irene Adler with the King of Bohemia from “A Scandal in Bohemia”:

…to Jabez Wilson from “The Adventure of the Red-Headed League”:

…to Professor Moriarty:

…to Sherlock and Watson themselves:

There were also many characters I was unfamiliar with, clearly indicating that I need to read more Sherlock Holmes stories!  Maybe I’ll read them along with the scripts of Shakespeare.

An excellent idea!

Reflections:

The steady stream of blog entries continue, as does the Criminal Justice Pilgrimage (albeit with a fictional location) and the British spellings that would honour any dedicated theatre fan.  

A Midsummer Night's Dream would not be my last Shakespeare play enjoyed in London, nor would it be my most memorable trip to the Globe.

As much as it screams "tourist trap," the Sherlock Holmes Museum was a surprisingly educational and enjoyable experience.  I'd definitely recommend giving it a look to anyone planning to travel to London.  Also, the constable out front was a ridiculously good sport about me taking pictures.

As I write this, I actually have a collection of Sherlock Holmes stories on my bedside table that I've just cracked open.  It's taken ten years, but I'm following up on the excellent idea that I ran by Mr. Holmes!