I got off the bus, walked past a castle, down a cobbled alley to drop off my backpack, and then up to the Royal Mile where I was greeted by a street performer juggling a machete and a couple flaming torches on a slack line in his underwear. I continued down the street and met a woman spinning naturally dyed yarn on a spinning wheel. With an 8 inch black spiked Mohawk.
Flash forward to the next morning and I'm wandering through the international book festival flipping through books about Scottish history and English accents. Then talking to artists at a craft fair and learning about designing patterns for a 24 stitch knitting machine. Next I stumble into a display of gypsy stories and shortly afterwards find a weaving mill in the basement of a 5 story building next to the castle with an exhibit on making tartan. Tired of crowds and enjoying the sunshine, I try to make my way to Arthur's Seat. This involves winding my way through street performers. Jugglers. Musicians. A guy with a sword down his throat. Japanese tap dancers in bright pink outfits. A statue man who looks like a forest spirit from a Miyazaki film floating in the air. Another statue man with no head. Darth Vader and a stormtrooper (wearing a kilt) watching a bag piper. And hundreds of fliers, practically confetti, for the various shows being performed that day.
And while I left the crowds for awhile, enjoying the walk past Parliament and (another) castle, and up to the top of Arthur's Seat, all in the warmest (and almost only) sunshine I had seen in weeks, the top resembled an ant hill. There were dozens of people sitting on the rocks and climbing to the very highest point for pictures. And while I had already learned that odd things are guaranteed to happen here, I was not expecting to find performers on top of the mountain. I'm not even sure what I was more surprised by - that they had hauled a harp up the hill or that they were belting out a song (with audience participation) about diarrhea.
Contrast this with a performance of the HMS Pinafore an hour later (my first opera courtesy of the International Festival!). Which was followed by an electronic acapella street performer, dinner at the Mosque Kitchen, and a night of watching the performers and the crowds on the Royal Mile. And the occasional firework.
It's quite the change from my tent in the Outer Hebrides.
I'd fit in better here if my hair were bright blue again. But instead, I'm wandering past the bars and clubs in search of a designer knitwear store (located with a prime view of the stones commemorating the victims of the gallows that used to stand in the square -- which, of course, were repurposed as a stage last night).
And that was only one day. The next started with a visit to the cafe where Harry Potter was written (though I have my suspicions that there's more than one of these). It's full of elephants and has a glorious view: up to the castle and down to the lower streets. I didn't see JK Rowling, but I understand how she could envision wizards living in such a magical city now.
Then I went searching for knitters, wandered through the National Museum, and had coffee with a new friend and discussed trips, past and future, to countries on every continent**. Follow this with a trip back to logic-land in a play on Ada Lovelace, with (now expected) abrupt transition to a comedy sketch ostensibly about the diary of the performer, a glittery book with an accompanying soundtrack, but that consisted more of him making fun of the people who came into the bar during the performance. I wended my way through more jugglers and musicians, and the crowds running around with headphones in their own private dance party, and made my way to another comedy - the accidental adventures of Sherlock Holmes.
Am I allowed to stop clapping yet?
And today. I met a dragon named Mark. I laughed when a man suggested collecting the fliers to burn to heat the house for the next year (honestly, it might work). I watched a man do a handstand on a tripod in pink leopard print spandex. And then I had a fascinating conversation about designing knitting patterns based on Celtic knots. Which, in typical Katie-style, included so many tangents into computer science, geography, language, history, travel, and books, that it's hard to claim that it really was about the original topic**. And then I wandered past my last street performer for the Fringe and bought a train ticket.
I wonder what will happen tomorrow?
**If either of you is reading this, thank you again for a wonderful conversation.
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