Arrival in Edinburgh

This second entry of my adventures begins in Edinburgh and is a mixture of complaining about travel, and my first foray into Scottish food. My first post was written back in Summer 2016, when I actually took the trip; I misplaced and then thankfully found my travel journal so I can continue sharing my adventures.

Looking back, I will remember how exhausted I was yet brimming with excitement at being in a new city in a new country with my best friend. I wasn’t nervous anymore; in fact my nervousness had all but evaporated and my curiosity at being in a new place was taking over, which is something that I have happily found to becoming a more common reaction whenever I am traveling to a new undiscovered place.

As stated before, anything in italics are current thoughts and musings on what I decided to write in the moment.

Without further ado, here is:

Part 2: Arrival

July 24, 2016

Current time: 9 p.m. Edinburgh time

The flight from LAX to Manchester was decent, despite the kid who would not stop crying. The flight was 9 hours and 35 minutes long. We flew up past Las Vegas and the Dakotas, over Canada and the Labrador Sea then down over Ireland to Manchester, England.

The Manchester Airport was…interesting. I had to transfer flights to catch my plane to Edinburgh, which required navigating my way through the mostly deserted airport. Following the signs, I made my way up a flight of stairs with only a few other people, down an empty hallway, scanning through a TSA checkpoint and a border patrol check-in, only to find myself in an empty terminal.

I’m talking zombie apocalypse empty.

There was literally no one around and I had an hour to kill. I was worried that I had ended up in the wrong place, especially since I didn’t have a boarding ticket for my next flight (I was told it would be printed for me before I boarded the plane), but eventually I found a main terminal with more travelers. I took a short nap, despite sleeping on my first flight, before I found my next one. I was the last person boarding as they had to print out my ticket but I made it on-board with my bag with no problems.

The flight to Edinburgh was a short 45 minutes in what I like to call an “I’m going to die” plane. (This enduring term is one that I have subconsciously picked up from my parents over the years referring to smaller aircraft.) We disembarked the plane onto the tarmac then boarded a bus that made a quick 2 minutes ride to the main terminal.

A photograph of a small blue airplane, which I lovingly refer to ask a "I'm going to die" plane.
There she is: my tiny “I’m going to die” plane

Kate was waiting for me at baggage claim, where we tackled each other and filled the otherwise quiet terminal with noise. It didn’t take long for my bag to show up then we boarded a bus to take us into the main part of Edinburgh.

It was drizzling (or as I overhead someone say “soggy”) when our bus dropped us off at one of the main centers of Edinburgh. After several small alleyways and one particularly massive and steep flight of stairs, I had to stop and catch my breath and pull out my raincoat because the drizzle transformed into a light rain.

We eventually made our way to our hostel where Kate had already checked in. Our room was, of course, at the top on the 7th floor and it was named Batman and Robin.

A picture of a brown door with another black and white picture of the old Batman and Robin cartoon taped to it.

Our private room is literally a bunk bed and a window, but Kate and I survived sophomore year of college practically living on top of each other in our small dorm room, so I know that we can handle a few days. Besides, we are planning on spending most of our time exploring. The bathrooms and showers are down the hall. I am definitely getting a dorm-room vibe, shower hooks and all. But the water is warm and that is honestly all that I care about.

A picture of my friend Kate sitting on our bunk bed.

We had dinner at small cafe down the street that Kate has eaten at before called The City Cafe. She ordered for me and was absolutely insistent that I try haggis and black pudding but refused to tell me what they were made of until I ate them.

To be honest, I wasn’t particularly thrilled with the food as I was still slightly nauseous and probably dehydrated from flying all day. But I kept drinking water and I was able to get most of my meal down. (I remember being nauseous while eating that day but the food was good. What sticks out most in my memory are the spices in both the haggis and the black pudding and that I was able to eat a bit of everything on the plate so I could tell myself I tried new food. Also looking back, I’m a bit saddened that I didn’t take more pictures of the actual restaurant because the website lists it as a ‘replicated American themed diner’. I remember the booths, the red tabletops and the pictures plastered all over the walls.) I know that once I sleep tonight I will be in much better shape tomorrow. Another reason why I despise flying is because I feel so horrible afterwards.

Kate and I spent the night watching Netflix and making plans for tomorrow, which was nice after a long day of traveling. I am excited to explore the city and begin our adventures tomorrow.

Till then!

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