The trip over to Scotland went about as planned. We were scheduled to fly to Rejkavik then to Heathrow and on to Edinburgh where we would be picked up by a driver to take us to our hotel.
My plan for the first leg, which left at 7:30 pm CDT, was to don the sleeping mask, pop in the earplugs and snooze my way to Iceland. Out of this huge 757 the only vacant seat on the plane was right next to me. So I was able to stretch out, a real luxury. We were all set.
But I couldn’t sleep. There were a couple little kids on the flight and I wanted to go play with them. But that wasn’t the worst of it. With the earplugs in all the sounds were, of course, muffled. And the flight attendants were all from Iceland, which would make sense because we were flying, ahem, Icelandair.
If you haven’t heard anyone from Iceland speak, especially the women, they sound like fluent songbirds, interesting to the point of distraction because the language is like nothing I have ever heard. I think I nodded off somewhere over Greenland and got a good, full half hour of sleep.
After a couple cups of coffee in the Rejkavich terminal amongst 300 middle school age kids, we hopped aboard another plane bound for Heathrow (Motto: “Welcome to Hell.”)
What a mess. We walked for miles. And this place where we had lunch was pure bedlam.
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| The living room (click on any image to enlarge) |
But we made it to Edinburgh on schedule and have a simply beautiful setup at The Chester Residence, a series of apartments--original high ceilings, updated furnishings and an incredible staff. And while the location is what is known as The West End, it was only a few blocks from the greatest milepost ever-the Edinburgh Castle.
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| Around the corner |
We were hungry so we showered and wandered the streets until we found a fish and chips place a block from 'home' called La Campagnola.
In what we hoped was not a portend, we had a waitress that was barely understandable, a befuddling menu (anyone ever heard of a donner kebab?). When the food arrived, it was good, and when we got the bill for 21 pounds (I don't know how to do the symbol for pounds sterling), it seemed very reasonable.
So we paid and asked for directions back home (it was dark and we perhaps wandered a bit too far).
Suddenly the owner/cook discovered that the bill was incorrect (to our advantage), so we gladly paid the difference only to witness a dressing down of the waitress.
That was the last time we went to that place despite passing it every day at least once and seeing no further sign of the unfortunate young server.
Tomorrow--Plans
