Signspotting at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival

Last weekend's trip to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival was AMAZING. For many reasons--there were back-to-back comedy shows, live circus acts on every street corner, a nearby book festival (in which I heard someone SWEAR they saw Bill Bryson, a fact that I could not confirm despite investigating every nook and cranny of Charlotte Square, although I still like to hold on to the belief that I was * thisclose * to tackling him and getting a photo with him and overall making him feel very uncomfortable)..and then there was the fact that I was in Edinburgh, one of the most beautiful places on earth, where pretty much EVERYTHING takes on a magical air.

The below exhibit at the Princes Mall was put on by the Signspotting Project, in which fantastic signs from around the world were displayed here to be enjoyed by all...

The above sign's caption:

Scotland: the Place

So I was sitting here, staring at my screen looking at the below photos and thinking, 'So...what?' I didn't have a word of description in mind. The pictures are of...Scotland. Specifically, Edinburgh and the village of Peebles and Loch Lomond. But my mind...a complete blank.

It's mid-afternoon here, a time of day better thought of as Sharona's mental naptime. If I'm not physically unconscious, I am remarkably mentally comatose. This is not a time where surges of free-flowing prose occur. No, those only come in early morning or early evening after a single (not a double--that just gets messy) glass of wine. They do not ever, under any circumstances, come at the time of day that I can fall asleep on the toilet. Alas, here I am.

And so I put on some Rodrigo y Gabriela and brew a cup of coffee. As the first fast-paced guitar notes race through the room, I sip and look at the photos again. And while I may not have any witty captions with which to entertain, I feel okay. And maybe that's all it takes to blog post some days: just a little okay-ness.

Introducing...Scotland: the Place.

Edinburgh. There are apparently all sorts of famous statues and whatnot around here.

I remember once a girlfriend telling me I should look into travel writing, and while I nodded and pretended to agree, all I could think was, 'She has obviously never actually READ my blog.' I could see my travel book now: 'So then when you get to this corner, you'll see a really cool building. I don't the name of it, or the history behind it, but it's REALLY photogenic. I want to say the structure is gothic in design, but it could be victorian or edwardian or georgian or something.'

Above and below: Loch Lomond at sunset.

The above photo was taken on the bus on the way from the village of West Linton to the village of Peebles. I think these are either the pets of the driver or the pets of the three passengers that take this line. There's pretty much one bus that does this route, and it only runs about four times a day. And apparently to catch it, you just stick out your hand wherever you are. Country lane, village main street, doesn't matter. Per the bus driver: 'The only formal stops are in town. Out here, I just stop if I see somebody flagging me down. If I'm in a good mood, that is.' He then chuckled heartily and blew past a little old lady.

This is Peebles. I love Peebles. I mean, yes, I recognize that it is only about four blocks long, and it's lined with gift shops and tea shops and pubs, but dangit, that's pretty much all I need for a good time...so I decided to skip Edinburgh and spend my day here, instead. I got a charming tea towel and a miniature wok with a cat painted on the side (yes, that is the sort of treasure you can get in Peebles) and a blue knit cap. I'm lucky my bus-dictated window of time was only four hours long, as I could have inflicted twice as much shopping damage. I didn't even make it as far the bookstore specializing in Scottish literature or one of the half dozen bakeries or delicatessens. Yes, this is what Peebles is known for: 'At least six hours of entertainment.'

I ended my afternoon by taking tea at a charming little tea shop in a courtyard accessible by a tiny covered passage between shops. I ordered a tea cake, which as far as I can tell is made by generously buttering a hamburger bun, throwing in a handful of raisins and a smattering of cinnamon, and then sticking the entire thing in a panini press. And it was de-LISH-ous.

Scotland: the Cast of Characters

Last weekend's visit to Scotland was an action-packed adventure: we hit a Halloween party, went guising (that is what the Scottish call trick-or-treating), visited Edinburgh, went hiking at Loch Lomond, dined with the Grandparents McQuade in Glasgow, and spent a day touring the shops of Peebles...but before I post all the photos, I want you to meet my weekend's generous hosts:

Introducing...the Family McQuade-Ferrier! In no particular order...

First we have Aiden...he is 5, makes armies out of marbles (each troop is color-coded, and they fight a giant), and sets up chess boards per the below, although you get the idea it changes every time:

Please note: the rules are also made up as you go, and you will find that he is nearly impossible to beat.

This is Daddy 'Robert' Ferrier. He made wonderful curry on Saturday night, and with notable flair.

Robert and Aiden skipping stones in Loch* Lomond. Marie gave Robert a handful of flat stones to pass to Aiden, but they never made it that far.

This is Jude...8 years old, he is the best violinist-video-gamer-reader-alarm-clock I have ever met. He is a natural in front of the camera and no doubt has a career of modeling ahead of him when he's not exploring the principles of quantum physics.

Robert again, this time modeling outdoorswear rather than aprons. Yes, a true renaissance man.

This is Marie: chef, writer, and the most efficient mother in all the land. Also, if my one weekend was any indication, the hub of the village social life...she knows EVERYbody, and gets a new party invitation every time you blink an eye.

Robert and Marie watching Aiden...he is up a tree (see below), conducting the fall colors. That, and knocking down leaves with a stick. A few moments after this, he falls from the tree, shooting in a perfect vertical between branches before catching himself with his arms, at which point Robert reached him and lifted him down. The fall (and catch) looked like something out of a cartoon. It was very exciting for all involved. You also get the sense that Aiden is utterly indestructible, as this was merely one of a half dozen near-misses that afternoon. He also tripped and banged his chin on the one post on the entire trail and later fell in the loch up to his waist. It's really a miracle we survived the day with this whirlwind of adventure:

And last but not least...we have Grampa McQuade. Jude and Aiden couldn't get enough of him...and really: would you be able to?

*'Loch' means 'lake.' But don't call the lochs lakes unless you're looking for kicks and just like to hear the wonderful Scottish accent saying 'loch' over and over again as they are forced correct you. Which I do.

The perfect wake-up

Last night Jude (8) and I, after discovering our bedrooms shared a wall, struck a deal: when he woke (rather, an hour after he woke, given his 6:30 a.m. self-propelled launch in the world), he would knock on my wall three times. Then he would pause. Then knock three times again. And so on and so forth until he heard a corresponding three knocks back, indicating a wake-up has occurred.

And so this morning it came: * tap tap tap * * tap tap tap * * long pause * * tap tap tap * I roused, disoriented, wondering whether or not they had construction going on or whether or not there was a bird having a heydey at my window until I remembered. Rolling over, I * tap tap tap'd* back. Silence. A moment later the door peeks open: "Are you awake?"

It was perfect. I'm now going to see if I can convince him to play his violin to wake me tomorrow morning...and then I'm going to steal him forever.

The perfect little village in the perfect Scottish countryside

I have officially arrived in Scotland for a wonderful four-day weekend to visit part of The Family McQuade (Marie, Robert, Jude, and Aiden) and so far I am LOVING it. We're in a village a half hour from Edinburgh, and to get here we drove through lush, green rolling hills dotted with lush, white grazing sheep under lush, dark gray skies, occasionally slowing through windy lanes bordered by tiny stone cottages that pre-date the existence of America. Driving through the village proper, we passed a white church standing sentinel over a perfect green park through which a group of children wearing colorful peacoats and caps traipsed hand-in-hand, no doubt on their way to a pumpkin patch or perhaps a lifesize gingerbread house. My particular room here has an entire glass wall overlooking a valley of more lushness and more impossible greenery, and I am tempted not to leave my perch on the window seat for the duration of my stay, unless it is to shift to a spot in front of the fireplace or refill my tea.

Tonight we head out to take the boys to a Halloween party. I'm excited to see how the Scottish do Halloween; I feel like I'm getting an inside scoop by having the privilege of participating with a personal, child-filled family.

In the meantime, back to my perch in the window!