Notes on Edinburgh (from Arthur's Seat, 2003)

Edinburgh is a most lovely little city. How did this bit of European cosmopolity and British eccentricity arise in the cold North? Philosophers and religionists came of age here--the Athens of the North. Brit stubbornness and oddity, with a gentle, lyrical (and tribal, and warlike) overlay of Celt.

My patrilineal ancestors--the Esplins--came from Perth, not far from here. They were shipbuilders, supposedly, not clansmen or gentry, but peasants and craftsmen. But I'm not sure I really feel a kinship yet to the people here, or the land.

Edinburgh seems designed for dramatic tourist moments. Holyroodhouse maybe is just another royal residence, but the gardens are gorgeous emerald green, and the cute Scottish guard-guys with tams (or berets?) and ponytails talk to the students. It's all within walking distance and line-of-sight. Arthur's Seat is a short, steep, but do-able walk, and then a short, steep, but do-able climb, and there is the Firth of Forth laid out in front of us, the city round, the Castle, the Old Town and New Town, the various follies on Calton Hill. I want to draw it--a tidy schematic. I will when we get back. Now, wind gusts and rain spits at us from all directions. My glasses are covered with rain and foggy from sweating the climb.