We would've gone ooglie-booglie.

Leaving the Edinburgh train station on foot, even in the dark, we already felt like we were in Harry Potter land (maybe Hogsmeade).  Edinburgh actually covers only a small bit of terrain, but it's easy to be swallowed up in its ghost stories and fascinating history.  Our lovely hostel, Castle Rock, was located at the base of the Edinburgh Castle.  Yes, we walked out of the front door each morning and gazed up at Hogwarts.

Our first evening, we were ravenous after a half-day of traveling and discovered, thanks to the hostel staff, the Royal Mile Tavern.  I mentioned my haggis addiction in the last post, and here we had the best of the best.  The dish included haggis-stuffed chicken, mashed potatoes, and "vegetables" (more potatoes).

The Royal Mile itself is a street we got to know very well during our days in Edinburgh.  It stretches from the Edinburgh Castle to the Holyrood Palace, filled with shops, restaurants, and touristy sites of the Old Town.  Our first project was a walking tour of this area; Edinburgh has quite the gruesome history of punishment and torture.  One of my favorite stories included the Mercat (the old Scottish word for "market") Cross, next to St. Giles Kirk (the cathedral).  There, those convicted of crimes were often nailed to the Cross itself by the ear as punishment...but it was also the place where official proclamations were made.  Long ago, it took about three days for news to travel by horse to Edinburgh from, say, England; today, they ridiculously keep the "three-day wait period" tradition, despite living in the 21st century with internet access.  So on July 25, 2013, three days after the birth of Prince George of Cambridge, three days after everyone had already heard about it on Twitter...Edinburgh was officially informed by messenger at the Mercat.

The muddy path to
Thomas Riddell's grave

After the walking tour, despite the cold, blustery winds and traces of rain, Norie and I returned to Greyfriar's Cemetery.  The cemetery is located just next to George Heriot's School; J.K. Rowling was inspired to create Hogwarts from the time she spent in this area, and it's easy to see why.  I can imagine the school, plus Edinburgh Castle (visible from the cemetery), coming together to form Hogwarts.  She also used some of the names from graves in Greyfriar's for Harry Potter characters; William McGonagall rests there as well as Voldemort himself, Tom Riddle (actually spelled Thomas Riddell).  The poor man's grave has been trodden on so many times by tourists, it's been slowly destroyed.  It was quite literally a mud pit when we found it.  We returned to search for it at the same time as the rest of the Harry Potter club from our walking tour; I never thought I'd hear the phrases, "Are you looking for Tom Riddle?" or "Shout if you find Voldemort!" uttered in real life.

Dinner chez Spoon

That evening, our wizarding journey took us to Spoon for dinner.  We wanted to find the café where J.K. Rowling wrote the first chapters of Harry Potter; our tour guide advised us that while the Elephant House had bought the rights to say she wrote them there (it has a giant sign in the front window boasting about it), the real deal is actually the first story of a building near the university, today an unassuming café and restaurant called Spoon.  It's an adorable and quiet place, with just a small placard outside commemorating J.K.R.

Having fulfilled our Harry Potter quest unapologetically, we continued our live music search and were not disappointed to find a bar with a live band and Irish dance classes that we could watch from above - voilà.

The following day was reserved for the Edinburgh Castle, Scotland's most visited tourist attraction.  And with good reason.  It's located on top of a hill with gorgeous views of the sea, mountains, and Edinburgh itself.  Inside are several small museums, the Scottish National War Memorial, and the famous Stone of Destiny.

Edinburgh Castle from Greyfriar's cemetery

The Stone is located in a museum at the top of the castle, in a room full of other precious jewels rather like the Crown Jewels of London, but the Stone itself is both the ugliest (it's just a simple block of sandstone) and the most impressive, if you know its story.  Originally, the Stone was used as part of crowning ceremonies of Scottish kings.  In 1296, it was forcibly taken by the English King Edward I and placed in Westminster Abbey.  Fast-forward to 1950:  Four students from the University of Glasgow drove to London in a Ford Anglias and broke into Westminster Abbey to steal it back.  The Stone itself is quite heavy; they broke it in two before using a coat to drag it all the way out of the Abbey.  As authorities were notified and the borders of England were closed, the students (then on the road) decided to stop and bury it in a field to hide it; they then returned to Scotland.  They later returned to collect it, and brought it to Scotland to have a stonemason named Robert Gray repair it; Gray apparently placed a piece of paper inside, but no one knows what it says.  Meanwhile, the police discovered what had happened, and the Stone was taken back to Westminster Abbey in 1952.

Don't worry, there's a happy ending:  In 1996, it was officially returned to Scotland for the first time in 700 years and placed in the Edinburgh Castle.

That evening, we were ready to be spooked by a haunted tour of the vaults under South Bridge.  We met our guide at around 10pm above ground; she took us on a short walk above ground before bringing us to a small one-room museum of horrendous medieval torture devices...and then it was on to the vaults.  Underground, it is certainly creepy, dank, and dark.  Those who had to live down there had a gruesome history.  Our tour guide began by telling us that she refused to go beyond a certain point to extinguish a particular candle on her last tour of the night, so some poor guy trying to impress his girlfriend had the tough job of heading down the stairs to put it out.  I didn't see any ghosts, but we left with some stories to laugh over later, when we were safely above ground.

St. Giles Kirk

Our final full day, we walked around New Town, which is exactly what it sounds like: lots of modern stores and restaurants.  We also peeked into the cathedral and then went down to Grassmarket, a large square that was at one time a market and a site for public executions.  There, we ate lunch at the White Hart Inn, Edinburgh's oldest pub, where the serial killers Burke and Hare scoped out their victims-to-be.  The pair lived in the early 1800s; at the time, the University of Edinburgh was well-known for its medical program and needed bodies to dissect and study, so Burke and Hare murdered 16 people and sold the corpses to the school.  I somehow blocked that out, enjoyed the ambiance, and ordered a dish (haggis included, of course).

Later that afternoon, we attempted to hike up to Arthur's Seat, a location on one of seven peaks between the center of Edinburgh and the sea with a beautiful view.  Well, it's probably a beautiful view; we never made it to the top.  We were separated, and since Edinburgh is quite far north, the sun set much earlier than expected.  Long story short, we each made it back safely in time to enjoy one last evening of live music, a singer and acoustic guitarist who brought back the best of the '90s.

After our final Scottish breakfast at our favorite diner the following morning, it was time to make the trek back to France.  All went well until our train from Paris hit a wild pig (the second time this has happened to me - je te jure!) and we were delayed in the middle of nowhere for an hour and a half.  Luckily, the train station in Nantes held the last train to La Roche for us and we made it home.

Mes vacances de février finished with one last highlight: one of my colleagues from last year and her family took me to my first hockey game in France: La Roche-sur-Yon vs. Caen.  We won, 3-1!  Though hockey isn't generally very popular in France, La Roche has a good team and just moved up a division this year.  The program they gave us explained in detail the rules and penalties, and each team even had a pep band (well, a group of people who hit drums).  When La Roche scored, the screen showed an animated sheep sitting on a rainbow; we weren't sure what it signified, but we cheered all the same.

We're talking about Hermione.

Even though we only spent one night in Belfast, I loved our hostel, Global Village.  After a power nap there, we rallied again in hopes of finding some music...but we misinterpreted our map and went in the opposite direction of the center of town (life is hard with no phone service).  We eventually worked our way back to the edge of town and went for an Italian restaurant.  Note:  Ordering Italian in Ireland is like ordering Italian in Germany...  It's not really Italian.

Near Victoria Square

Belfast was the first place where we had difficulty understanding accents.  Walking into the "Italian" restaurant, the hostess said something I found unintelligible.  Norie answered, "Yes, a table for three for dinner, please."  I looked at her incredulously and asked, "Did you understand what she said?"  Norie replied, "Not a word."  We also had to make the switch from Euros into pounds.  Pound notes printed in Northern Ireland have a design unique to those printed in England, as do those printed in Scotland.

Norie and Annie at Yardbird

The next morning, we were determined to get a good handle on the city of Belfast.  Its reputation isn't the greatest; it used to be (and often still is) thought of as a rough and edgy town.  I could see the remnants of that image in some of the graffiti, and it certainly isn't a romantic, picturesque town like Galway.  We liked City Hall and the modern Victoria Square Shopping Center, which has a 360-degree view of Belfast at the top.  Not far from there is Cathedral Quarter, which we had searched for the previous evening, a trendy area full of old cafés and bars.  We stopped at one, the Yardbird, for their chicken lunch special (we had originally scoffed at the chicken and tried to find a different restaurant, but were put in our place - I have never had chicken that delicious, ever).

Cathedral Quarter street

Of all the places we went on this trip, Belfast is the first one I'd return to.  We didn't have time for the Titanic Quarter, an area dedicated to the ship which was built in Belfast.  I'd also like to see the Peace Wall and go on the Crumlin Road Prison tour.  I'm sure there are other interesting museums and tours on the history of the city as well.

Mid-afternoon, it was time to head out for the next frontier: Scotland.  We had booked a ferry from Belfast to Cairnryan, and from there a bus to Glasgow.  The ferry was a huge plug for us (we'd imagined standing on deck, surrounded by beautiful scenery, the wind blowing through our hair).  We did go up on deck only to realize that it entailed freezing cold, storm-like winds...and also that it's forbidden to passengers.  The ferry is really a luxury boat with couches, giant TVs, and even a cinema - all sorts of attractions to keep passengers below deck.  We took the opportunity to kick back and read.

Glasgow wasn't a main attraction for us; we spent the night there and left the following morning on our West Highland adventure.  We did learn one lesson from Glasgow:  Do not try to eat at Greggs.  Not even once.  It's a fast food place worse than White Castle.  We all bought, bit into, and promptly threw away our breakfasts (coffee included) and the train station Burger King meals we grabbed in a pinch suddenly tasted like haute cuisine.

There's a train from Glasgow to a small western seaside town called Oban that cuts straight through Loch Lomond (cue resurrection of classic choir songs) and the Trossachs National Park.  The train ride is reason enough to make the journey up into the Highlands; we cut through beautiful lakes, forests, and snowcapped mountains.  I stayed glued to the windows between train cars, and was thrilled to repeat the journey the following day when we returned via the same route.

Oban is an adorable small town; there wasn't a lot happening, especially in February, but we began by finding fish and chips at the Waterfront Fishouse that surpassed even Liscannor's.  There, we discovered haggis for the first time; I'll let you decide if you want to look up how it's made, but I can tell you that I did my research and was still addicted as soon as I tasted it.  Nearly every meal I had in Scotland ended up including haggis.

That evening, we witnessed a stunning sunset.

The following morning, we hiked up to McCaig's Tower for an equally stunning sunrise.

Maybe it was the act of crossing the sea and setting foot in Scotland, but all three of us had developed a sudden itch to relive our Harry Potter glory days, and we found a copy of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets in a thrift shop.  Our first read-aloud session took place at the Oban Chocolate Company café.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione...yes, we decided who was who.

In our chocolate-induced sugar coma, armed with our book and terrible British accents, we piled back on the train, through the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond, back to Glasgow, and onward to true Harry Potter stomping grounds, Edinburgh.