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Published: February 11th 2007
Castle on the hill
They haven't yet completed taking it down after last season.The 300th anniversary of the union between Scotland and England will fall this year. I am the first to admit that my understanding of both the history and intricacies of the United Kingdom is appallingly limited- but I must admit that I never thought that my first trip to Scotland would see me wondering whether there would be a subsequent three hundred years of unity between England and their northerly neighbour. In 1707 there were allegations of bribery, corruption and (obvious) disenfranchisement after the noblemen in the Scottish Parliament agreed to the Union with the Kingdom of England. Nowadays the Scots are more represented than ever - they have had their own Scottish Parliament since 1998, they are still represented in the Parliament of Great Britain in London and for all intents and purposes the next Prime Minister of the United Kingdom will almost definitely be a Scot - yet if you believe media reports the desires of the Scottish population to assert their differences compared with England and leverage themselves into an “independent” Scotland seem very strong.
Whether it’s possible to gauge a population’s desire for independence during a boozy weekend away is debatable. I am willing to bet
In fact -
It looks as though they still have a LOT of work to do. it is not. However, after nearly getting into a fist fight with an annoying Scot in a bar on my first night in town over an issue he largely knew nothing about I’ve decided that it’s fine for me to make broad sweeping statements about a country I have spent less that 2 full days in (I mean, honestly; that any foreigner can claim that he can pinpoint any Australian’s hometown from their accent alone is a fallacy so stupid that it almost is worth getting into fisticuffs over the issue).
Edinburgh has an undeniable charm and history to it that gets to you even if you emerge, bleary-eyed, in the mid afternoon after a hard night’s drinking and are struggling to fight off strong bouts of nausea. As Jill (the Swede), Steve (the Scot) and I made our way down Princes Street it was hard not to be impressed as the imposing figure of Edinburgh Castle looms over you and in the distance Arthur’s Seat strikes a dramatic background. Steve joked that he often told holidaying Americans that Edinburgh officials “build the castle each summer when the tourists arrive and pack it away again as winter approaches”. I
Another nice Castle shot
Ever time I saw it "Scotland the Brave" started piping in my ears! groaningly appreciated how many of my beloved Americans believed him.
We were on a (slow, halting) mission to make our way to the new Scottish Parliament in Holyrood on the other side of Edinburgh from our apartment and on the way I had noticed the abundance of Scottish flags flying. Proudly Scottish, I asked Steve what he thought of all the recent talk about making Scotland independent again. He told me how he knew that many people in Scotland greatly favoured severing ties with England but he could not see the point of any move toward independence. He pointed out that although there was a devolved parliament all the real power still is at Westminster and that the Scottish Parliamentarians did “nothing”. To Steve, the only thing more worrying than the high percentage of Scots polled who said they wanted to break from the Union was the even higher rates in polls of English respondents who said that they would be happy to get rid of Scotland altogether. It seemed in Steve’s view that independence would be bad for Scotland as it cannot afford to be separate from its neighbour. (Meanwhile throughout this conversation poor old Jill was having
What a hill!
Ive you a good perspective of the kind of hill you faced if you ever wanted to storm the Castle. And don't forget they were firing cannon and throwing boiling oil at you while you were clambering up. her own, more internal debate, which involved questions of will and strength and whether she should have tucked into that fourth bottle of wine the night before.)
We never made it to the new Scottish Parliament building as along the way we decided to take in something even more representative of Scotland - a terrifying ghost tour in the underground vaults of Edinburgh. The vaults, as far as I can ascertain from the limited historical information (of use) I received on the tour, were parts of the old city that were built over several hundred years ago when the black plague was raging through Europe. Apparently, areas that were deemed too diseased were simply built on top of. Yet as it happened many people continued to live there for some time, and the stories and legends of those that lived and died there (and a little entrepreneurial spirit) have fuelled a huge ghost tour industry.
Our tour was led by a strange twenty-something man who had the unnerving habit of looking at no-one while talking to the group and making odd jokes that were incomprehensible to those of us brave enough to venture into an underground vault with
a guy who looked like he wasn’t the type to solely wear his top-hat, cloak and cane while conducting ghost tours.
The tour was dark. It was not scary. The guide was.
The tour could have been described as disappointing. For example, any “Underground Ghost Tour” that starts with the guide saying “We are about to enter the underground world of Edinburgh - please follow me up these stairs” is bound to be a trifle trying (yes we did have to go up the stairs to go underground but there was more of a geological, rather than metaphysical explanation for this (the section of the vaults we were entering was built into a hillside). Yet somehow all the oddities of the tour made it hugely entertaining. Like at the end of the shock inducing tour the guide turned to us and asked “Who would like to see a set of torture implements?” and then lead us into a room displaying macabre tools of torture and explained their use in excruciating detail over Scotch and shortbread. It was never made clear how the torture equipment related to the vaults but who doesn’t love to hear how to properly use
a jaw-breaker (?).
Emerging into daylight cursed - I had willingly stepped inside the stone prayer circle of a witches’ coven during the tour and according to our guide I shouldn’t even be alive to write this blog entry but here I am, ever the intrepid travel blogger, reporting for duty - I was again thrust into the debate about Scotland versus England. This time it was on the sporting field. Scotland was playing England in the Rugby and as dozens and dozens of men in kilts marched past on the way to their respective pubs to watch the game you could feel in the air that there was no love lost between these two rivalling companions. Everyone booed as the English came onto the field. All heckled when “God Save the Queen” was played. Alas, Scotland lost, but others too have felt the pain of Jonny Wilkinson’s boot before.
After another brilliant night out for Lee’s birthday celebrations Jill and I managed to pull ourselves out the door on Sunday morning to go and see The Castle. We were fortunate enough to arrive just as a guided tour was leaving and our tour guide (thankfully not in
top-hat and cloak) was bemoaning England’s attempts at ignoring the centuries of Scottish history that preceded the union of the countries. The stories of the Castle and palace and the other building locked within the gates of the fortress were fascinating. Between each historical story we were offered proof of the importance of Scotland (and Scots) in the world today. I had to bite my tongue as our guide listed all the famous Scots who lived in other countries - with such an impressive list I began to wonder why all the Scottish talent was leaving (!). Yet at every turn on the cobbled pathway up to the palace our guide never once missed an opportunity to put the boot into the English. As we stood in Crown Square, the highest point of the Castle grounds the guide proudly pointed out that no English monarch would ever wear the Crown of Scotland (although QEII has fondled them once or twice).
As I stood in that historic square and braced against the rushing wind I felt a thrill of sadness for poor old Scotland. Suddenly it had dawned on me that for all their (supposed) fervour for independence and their
Hallo World
Jill emerges from the apartment - looking good in adverse conditions own identity it all appears to be moot. As far as I can understand it Scotland could never afford to break away from the Union and England isn’t that fussed either way (although I’m sure the oil from Aberdeen is a pleasing addition to the coffers of the UK). The Scottish Parliament seems more for show than serious business and despite some flag waving and sporting jeering there is not the depth of feeling there that propels other independence movements in the UK (the night before I met a guy from Northern Ireland who had been shot at by English soldiers in his youth and said he would do “anything - including violence” to see the English off his island). As more and more European nations join the EU soon borders will become meaningless and it is the cultural identity of member nations that will be important. Perhaps any independence movement is at least 50 years too late? In a more unified Europe a split in one of the most important unions of the continent is perhaps now irrelevant and unnecessary.
After the tour Jill and I explored the exhibition of the Honours of Scotland. We walked into the
Hallo World II
Steve - in an awkward position - refuses to leave the aprtment in what may have been even more adverse conditions. vaulted room where the Crown and the Stone of Scone sit glass encased and resplendent. Scores of people were eyeballing the product of a remarkable history and culture and seemed in awe that it was still here on display.
In typical Scandinavian level-headedness Jill whispered to me “You know the crown is a fake! Why would they ever leave the real one on display?”
For the sake of Scotland, its culture and its identity something in me desperately wanted it to be real.
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Tania Zappala
non-member comment
Jee peers creepers
That entry should earn you credits in some sort of masters... I love the photos. I am upset to hear (and also rejoiced to hear) that Harry Potter is happening again. hope you are well love tz