Hogmanay

I wandered around Edinburgh yesterday. For most of the time I was part of my first real tourist tour, which was fine but a little soulless. My guide was lovely, the sights to see were vaguely familiar, the stories interesting or morbid or both, but the group meandered like a nebulous and disinterested group of cows.

So when we were released I retraced my steps somewhat, and found an exhibition at the National Library on Robbie Burns. So, Scottish. And in Scotland. That was more of the type of thing I was looking for rather than tourist shops full of discount Cashmere tartans, beanies and scarves.

But the most interesting thing I found was completely by accident. I'd seen signs around all day for something called "Hogmanay", and I walked back down the Royal Mile from the castle at what I presume was the time of the day for these things to see vikings strolling the streets. With axes. To the strains of several hundred pipers.

Apparently every new year the Scots have a viking long-boat burning to get rid of all the evil from the last year. Taken from the time that they used to get a fairly thourough beating from their neighbours to the north.

These days they hand out torches (of fire) to the entire population of Edinburgh, and march down through the streets to the park, where the longboat is waiting to be reduced to cinders.

Although, you have to remember that I knew very little of this when I was confronted with pipers and barricades and crowd control people and viking warriors. I was helped instead by a lovely group of locals - two small Scottish children, their mother and her aunt and uncle - who had come to watch the parade. As the torches were lit and the crowds bellowed at the vikings and cheered on the pipers in procession, they went down the stairs to the long boat and I sprinted for my train.

In a town

... not too far from me, but perhaps rather far from you, there is a castle called Garth.

The castle that gives Newcastle it's name was new about a thousand years ago, and it's called Garth. Bless.

Ferry Crossing

On the ferry yesterday I met a librarian from the Erasmus University in Rotterdam, who lived quite close to the friend that I stayed with there. We played bingo and ate the unused cocktail decorations because the ship was practically empty of passengers.

And I had a berth to myself.

More Christmas

I thought this morning as I was on the ferry that I would miss being in Europe, or continental Europe I suppose. So I shall. It's been fun.

I will miss the sense of age and history that I've read about but now seen. I will miss the people I've met there. It's such a ways away.

Christmas

Since most of those who read this ought to be on Australian time, Merry Christmas! I hope this is a great time for you to be celebrating our saviour's birth.

For those of you not in Australia, Merry Christmas, it well may come tomorrow!

England feels strange to be in. It's like the place that most Australians have inherited a little. We might love America but we've still got our British hangups. And the accents are amazing to hear - the lady at the docks this morning crying out "Anyone would think it was CAWLD" in true Geordie fashion. I half thought they put these things on for the movies.

England

Is where I am. In Newcastle. Being in England is a bit weird after all these places where I'd have to use a second language. I'll tell you more about it later.

Bubbles

The day before yesterday there was a group of girls playing in the street below the appartment. It was so windy that they needed only to stretch out their arms for the wind to blow the bubbles for them.

All we could see were bubbles floating by the second storey. And hear the laughter of children.