The Royal Mile

Looking for the invisible hand: Bruce and Adam Smith

Because I didn't understand the Scots (and still don't quite), I thought "the Royal Mile" was a term recently concocted for tourists. You know, someone in the 1970's thought of a name to put in the brochures to describe the retail strip below the castle.

But, no. The Royal Mile is, in geological terms, the "tail" of the "crag and tail" formation created by glaciers dragging themselves over old volcanoes. It really is a mile long. And it's "royal" because there's Edinburgh Castle high on the dolomite plug that dominates all views in the city on the one end and Holyrood Castle at the other. 

All of which is to say, the Scots take their history seriously. 

After the bus tour on our first full day, we did a walking tour the second. Thanks to the vagaries of Internet bookings, it was only the minute we presented ourselves that we learned the tour we were on was "The Secrets of the Royal Mile."

Earliest sighting of an actual Scot: Rachel, our tour guide.

On the tour we learned the answers to questions that had occurred to us the day before, like, "what are all these 'closes' and what are they for?" (protected alleys to access residential properties), "how old are these buildings?" (most are 19th century or newer) and "what are all these brass bricks in the pavement?" (they mark the footprint of demolished buildings like the old Tollbooth/jail and the spot of the last public execution in Edinburgh, for example).

We also got answers to questions we didn't ask, such as, "what's the heraldic animal of Scotland?" 

Answer: Unicorn.

 ... and "were there tourists in Edinburgh in the 19th century?"

Answer: Yes, so the famous line uttered by a 12-year-old buried in the rubble of a collapsed tenement was translated, when carved into rock, from the colloquial "heave awa' lads I've not died yet" to the more proper "heave away chaps I'm not dead yet" for the benefit of English and American gawkers.

... and who is that really a statue of in front of the old Scottish Parliament building by St. Giles' 'cathedral'?

Statue of obviously Oliver Cromwell but ostensibly of Charles the Second. As if.

The tour ended with the castle. Our time in Italy prepared us for, but still couldn't help us tolerate, the seething, monstrous crowds of tourists. But, there were some nice details even the crowds couldn't obscure or stand forever in front of taking a thousand selfies.

The hammerbeam roof in the Great Hall. Made without nails, built from Norwegian timbers, the same today as it was when originally constructed:

The cemetery for soldiers' dogs. 

Left to our own devices after the tour was over, we fled the castle, got some lunch (Thai food), and checked out the Writer's Museum. 

Putatively Walter Scott's rocking horse as a child, found in the attic of the Scott family home. Deeply creepy.

Of the three writers honoured in this museum, Sir Walter Scott has passed the most into obscurity, though I wonder how many people can quickly summon Robert Louis Stevenson (Treasure Island? Dr. Jeckyl and Mr. Hyde?) or are even aware that the song they sing at New Years was written by Robert Burns. 

It's remarkable how famous these people once were. When Walter Scott died in 1832, "the world mourned" or so says one of the explanatory cards in the museum. His admirers built a monument to him larger than any other writer's memorial. No, really. Not Shakespeare, not Goethe, not Tolstoy got a bigger chunk of carved stone put up for them.

We also checked out the old Scottish Parliament but sadly no photos were allowed. The Great Hall, with another spectacular hammerbeam roof, is part of the law courts now and lawyers pace the length of the hall talking in pairs, the idea being that if you keep moving no one can overhear the full gist of what you are saying. It preserves client confidentiality. And it works. As we gawked at the roof and fine sculptures and paintings of revered counsel two lawyers had an earnest conversation we could not follow at all.

From the old parliament we walked to the new - the third parliament building the Scots have built themselves.  Architecturally innovative and flagrantly open to the public, we went in (no photos allowed) and climbed four flights of stairs up to the debate chamber where a real live debate was underway - something about lengthening or shortening sentences - though it was getting late in the day and I was tired so I wasn't sure if they were talking about criminals or grammar.

On the way back to the hotel, we stopped to enjoy a typographical error:

That's a loooong road closure.

Tomorrow: Arthur's Seat and the Botanical Gardens.

Thanks for reading!

Karen