Boggle-minded

How luxurious - waking up at nine, and not having to go to the office! This was the first Saturday I had to spend in Edinburgh, so there were a few obligatory points to be covered. Point one: a nice bowl of porridge and a cup of cappucino at an Italian cafe on George Street. The sure sign of the place's authenticity was Rai Uno on a wall-mounted flat-screen TV silently preaching its message of full bodies and empty heads; well-groomed men were shaking their heads over prosciutto and dried tomatoes, the well-groomed all-female audience aplauding enthusiastically. The porridge was excellent (creamy and not too sweet) and the view of the Firth from the top of George Street beautiful. Since my arrival, this was the first time I've had a chance to see the sea on the horizon.

The Firth as seen from George Street.

The next point of call was the Royal Mile, the long street leading from the gates of the Edinburgh Castle all the way down to the Palace of Holyrood House. While it changes the name a few times on its way, the spirit remains the same - it is the most touristy place in the entire city, if not in the whole of Scotland. I am quite pleased I am in Edinburgh at this time of the year; in the summer the street must be a sea of heads, with one tide-wave swelling up towards the castle, and the other receding towards Princes Street. I challenge anyone to find one non-tourist oriented place on the whole street. It is choke-full of tartan shops, miniature museums and amusements, cheap restaurants, dodgy whisky shops - and, my favourite, ancestry shops ('Your Family History - 10 pounds').

A Close.

One way to access the Royal Mile is to climb up one of the steep Closes. The Old Town is built in many layers, and housing works on multiple levels. Climbing the particular close below, I found myself following a small Japanese girl carrying a bag of shopping, and a plate - a normal, porcelain plate - filled with cooked prawns. Curious, I watched her enter into one of the buildings, and my eyes fell on the sign on the wall. I wirthed in jealousy. Those beautiful stone buildings, commanding breathtaking views over the city and the sea were inhabited by - students!

If only I had known, no Uni in the UK would have stood the competition.

Having crossed the Royal Mile, there are plenty of ways to climb back down on the Southern side of the hill. You can follow the road around to the corner of the Princes Street Gardens, where once a week the car-park is taken over by a farmers' market. In spite of the chill, there were quite a few stalls up, and quite a few people about.

The castle forms a suitable backdrop to the market.

It is certainly dominated by actual farmers, with a lot of meat and fish selling going on, including very nice Scottish Buffalo burgers made fresh as you wait, mmm. I got into a conversation with one of the sellers about the situation in the Highlands - apparently he's spent best part of his week digging up sheep from inder the snow. Moved with pity, I prompty bought some lamb chops. My absolute favourite was the bread stall, though: their sourdough loaf is as heavy, moist and chewy as they come, and is better even then Austrian bread - there, I said it. The chances that the loaf I got will survive beyond this weekend are pretty slim.

A customer at a coffee stall at the farmers' market.

Sourdough bread - yum!

The day was getting increasingly cloudy, but there was one more thing to be done. Calton Hill is just few steps (upward steps) from the Waverley train station, and I was told it had beautiful views over the sea and the city. As we were walking, the One O'Clock Gun could be heard from the castle, and the black ball on top of the Nelson's Monument on Calton Hill was dropped; both were established in the 19th century to help the ships in Leith Harbour tell the time.

Edinburgh and the Firth of Forth from Carlton Hill.

I found looking at the city and beyond from Calton Hill completely confusing. For a long time I just sat on the bench, trying to figure out what it was I was actually looking at. The flat light of a cloudy day, combined with excellent visiblity, made distances confusing and perspective meaningless. The view is vast, I could even see the mountains over the Firth bridge far away in the distance, at least 20 km away. Monochrome grey of the buildings forced me to squint as I tried to imagine the actual sizes of the houses.

Dreamscape Edinburgh.

North Bridge connecting the bottom with the top (and the middle, and the above, and the below).

Looking at the town centre was not much better. Edinburgh is just such a dreamscape city: multi-layered, multi-levelled... It is populated by buildings that look more like castles, by castles that defy reason by clinging on to sheer rock faces, by sheer rock faces bursting out through the fabric of the city like giant waves or crashing icebergs. Spanned by bridges which start at the bottom, but weirdly end at the top; but the top is actually half-way up some buildings, above others, and far below others still. Buses, trains and cars zoom here and there, pedestrians hurry up and down adding to the confusion, and the whole ensamble ends up looking like one of Escher's creations, you half expect things to start moving upside down at any minute. It's like looking at a flock of birds going in all directions at the same time, there is no way I can take it all in - if I focus on one spire, it's immediately displaced in my eye by a turret, from which I'm distracted to note an archway, and naturally a staircase, and a ledge - a never-ending game of snakes and ladders. At any moment I expect the sky to fill with people in leather goggles, cruising in their pedal-powered flying machines, or maybe travelling leisurely in private zeppelins - because Edinburgh, I finally realise, looks exactly like an 18th century vision of a future city.

At home there is still a gas fire, a kettle which whistles as I boil the water for tea, and on tv giant, bleeding men run around a field after a leather ball. Wales make an amazing comeback in the second half and win over Scotland by seven points. Primitive emotions take over as I gasp an cheer.