Festive Figments

As some of my earlier blog posts may demonstrate, I was so caught up in grading and writing before Christmas that I all but forgot the holiday loomed so near. A day or two before Christmas itself, I. was walking me in to the university library when we passed one of our favourite charity shops. This one had been selling Christmas trees for nearly a month, but the formerly expensive trees had been heavily discounted to £5 and £10 (for small and large trees respectively). With all our Christmas decorations in America, we decided on a whim to get a small tree, figuring that we could make enough trimming to make it properly festive.

While I was in the library, I. and the shopkeeper worked out a deal whereby I. came home with a much larger tree than expected (for much less money than we thought). Christmas eve was a day of great origami; I. made cranes and boxes, and then we both attempted the beautiful kusudama flowers a friend of ours had made a few years ago and which I'd found online since then.

Also on Christmas Eve, I discovered that despite his pitiful sighs of lament over all the candy he couldn't eat, someone! had eaten some of the construction materials for my yet-unfinished gingerbread house. Unwilling to buy another bag of licorice, I improvised, and the resulting house had a slightly oversized "stone" fireplace of M&Ms rather than the licorice bricks I had expected.

Christmas itself was splendid. We attended the beautiful Episcopal church we found last week, and had a wonderful time again, then came home and sipped coffee on the couch. Presents were sparse, but the absence of gift-wrapped items made the festivities more about spending time together, and we enjoyed sitting and talking, sipping delicious beverages, and watching the occasional sci-fi show.

This year, I. was in charge of cooking our Christmas dinner. At the Christmas Eve farmers' market, we had bought a lovely slab of ham, which he simmered in cider and then roasted in the oven with a mustard glaze. I. made fresh herb bread and then transformed his beautiful baked slab into stuffing, and supplemented these with mashed potatoes and carrots. As a treat, we had also bought some of our favourite local cider at the farmer's market, which went beautifully with the ham.

On Boxing Day, we slept in ridiculously late (during which time I learned exactly how much I had been pushing myself in the grading and writing marathon) and spent a lazy day doing very little. I. took me for pints and word games at the pub, and then! we went to enjoy my Christmas present, which as two tickets to (very good seats at) The King and I, onstage at the nearby Edinburgh Festival Theatre. While not quite as amazing as last month's trip to Top Hat, we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

The 27th marked the three-year anniversary of I.'s proposal. I. made an amazing soup for supper, which was Thai in flavour and contained shrimp, coriander, and my favourite kind of noodles.

We've had a fairly lazy end of month; I'm now caught up on grading but a bit behind on writing, and am looking forward to the start of a new semester, and to a bit of exciting travel for conferences and research as I embark on what is supposed to be the home stretch of thesis writing.

DPP Day 25: Knots So Hard

After the mad gift-giving spree of our first Christmas (facilitated by the fact that my parents came and I.'s family sent gifts along with them) and the abundant presents under the tree on our second Christmas (more family visits and more family gifts), the unwrapping portion of this year's day was a little more relaxed. Still, I tied one of I.'s gifts so elegantly that he was forced to get out his lockpicks (and eventually a good blade) before the contents could be revealed.

DPP Day 24: To Market, To Market . . .

I am told that a major holiday is scheduled to take place within the next few days or so, which (apparently) is the cause for the hundreds and thousands of shoppers who were clogging up most of the sidewalks and store aisles in Edinburgh today. Nevertheless, we enjoyed a leisurely stroll to the weekly farmers' market, where we purchased a fat pig (well, part of him or her) and some cider made by one of our favourite brewers. The market was lovely and exciting, as ever.

DPP Day 23: There's No Taste Like Scone

Back in the day, I. managed to find himself a job at one of the more popular cafes in St Andrews (after which, both we and our friends became significantly pickier about the items we would and would not eat from their kitchen). Part of his job was to arrive early in the morning to make two batches of scones (in bulk), that would emerge from the ovens, fresh and warm, by the time the cafe opened. (I still think my scone recipe from my postgraduate year was better, but most of my peers disagree). At any rate, today he performed a small-scale reprise of this once-significant task, and surprised me with fresh scones, strawberry jam, and a tub of clotted cream for breakfast.

For the uninitiated, clotted cream tastes a little like whipping cream (but better)but and the consistency of butter. Traditionally it comes from the milk of a certain breed of cows from a certain county of England, but I believe these rules are often bent. I am not sure that any more amazing food exists, and, although we eat it pretty sparsely (you know, for health reasons) it is one of the things I miss most when we are in America. I. considered himself to have survived romantically when he passed clotted cream on the list of things I like. At any rate, our breakfast was magnificent:

DPP Day 22: Sun Light, Sun Bright

In photography, timing can be everything, and today's photograph was a masterpiece of timing. Last night was the longest night of the year, and the past week or so, although the weather has been warm and the rain has stayed scarce, has been a week of beautiful, billowy, grey clouds. Today the sunbeams reached through the clouds on two separate (but brief) occasions, and on the latter of these, I was speedy enough to grab my camera out of my bag and photograph the resulting sunbeams and shadows before they faded away.

Although my library carrel did have an awesome view over the Lothian hills (pictured in yesterday's photograph), the image captured in this photograph more or less reflects my day (I read all but four of the books pictured), which was mostly spent working very hard on research for my thesis and, later, grading student essays from my online course. No rest for the weary, they say, whomever 'they' is.

DPP Day 21: Books with a View

Today: a rousing day of research excitement in the Edinburgh University Library (another reason I'm glad and blessed that we moved to Edinburgh this year). In between staring out across the beautiful hills as the sun set a little before four, and leaving the library when the fire alarm went off, I managed to read a lot of books (about fifteen) and take a lot of notes (several thousand words). Productivity gives satisfaction.

DPP Day 20: Climb of Twine

This afternoon, for a study break from my virtual grading stack, I dragged I. into the great wide world of Leith for an afternoon stroll. The skies were grey but not releasing water droplets (an improvement over yesterday) and we walked through the nearby Links park, which--like St Andrews--claims to be the home of golf. The park is quite large and features a lovely playground, near to which is this amazing rope construction (easily fifteen or twenty feet high) upon which, we determined, children are also allowed to play. We enjoyed the grey-blue skies, the fresh ocean air, and the chance to see our neighbourhood in the daylight before heading back to our cosy flat, armed anew with a stack of books we discovered in a nearby charity shop at remarkably low prices.

DPP Day 19: Home, Sweets, & Home

Well, it's a week before Christmas and it's fair to say that my schedule hasn't lessened much. Between now and the New Year, I have 9,000 words to write on my thesis (this deadline may stretch a little), research to do and an abstract to write on Shakespearean biographies, more than thirty episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation to watch (no, I'm not kidding; this is for research, I promise!), sixteen (possibly seventeen, if the missing one appears) papers to grade, more than thirty student essays also to grade, a Christmas knitting project to finish, and--the fun part--this gingerbread house to finish:

I've wanted to make a gingerbread house for almost as long as I can remember, and this year I finally made the time. Decorating it was, today, my treat at the end of a long day of writing and grading, and I spent hours (quite literally) making a snow-covered roof with dormer windows. Of course the house looks nothing like the ones I remember seeing in my childhood (the retirement community near my grandparents' house used to have an enormous and elaborate display each December) but I keep telling myself that this is just a first try, and that next year's will be much, much better. The best part, however, is that when I'm tired and burnt out from reading and evaluating the essays in my virtual stack, I can turn my energies to something a little more creative and less mentally taxing. Besides, I think it will taste nice when it's ready to be dismantled . . .

DPP Day 18: Warmth and Light

Today I. and I ventured out to a Scottish Episcopal Church located only a few blocks from our flat. We've been to many churches here, primarily Scottish Episcopal, Church of England (Anglican), and Church of Scotland (Presbyterian), but even reading the church website, which mentioned alternative spaces and a commitment to involving children in the service, didn't quite prepare me for the service itself.

As we walked down the block nearest the church, we noticed its large old steeple and beautiful rounded architecture. As we walked up to the building itself, we noticed the panes of glass missing from the stained glass windows, and then the signs to the entrance located in the parish hall rather than the church itself. The service was held in the church hall (smaller, easier to heat (I expect), and the location of services for this congregation since--another parishioner guessed--the 1970s. Everything about our service was carefully and beautifully planned, but not ostentatious in the way that so many Episcopalian churches can be. The chairs were arranged in a wide circle (with four paths) with the Advent wreath on a table in the middle. This was moved about (with candles still lit) to provide space for the children's Christmas play, and also served as the table upon which communion was prepared. Only one priest wore robes, and these were simple; there was no altar; the members of staff sat in the circle of seats among the congregants and stood up to read or pray (we didn't even realise who the rector was until he introduced himself after the evening service). Parts of the liturgy were updated, but the spirit was still there. Children ran through the room, squirmed on their seats, participated in the passing of the peace, and were still humming the communion hymn after the service had ended. Many members of the congregation made it a point to come and welcome us after the service, and we were warmly invited to return this evening for the carol service (which we did). I've attended dozens of churches in my lifetime, and I can not once recall ever having been greeted so warmly as I was in this one.

The church is home for a number of local artists and scholars, including a puppeteer, a poet, and several professors at a nearby university. I assume the congregation also includes a skilled painter, because the walls were decorated with three beautiful murals showing the silhouetted skyline of Leith; these same walls became part of the Advent celebration, as a number of smaller images added around the murals had been covered over to create a large-scale Advent calendar; but on my picture of today, the small square images were once covered over in paper and painted over in blue to match the rest of the image; during the service, the children were asked to go up to the wall and help peel off the outer layers to reveal these "windows of light." I'm not doing the concept justice in my verbal description, but it was a fun and innovative way to involve the children in the service, and I. and I quite enjoyed it.

DPP Day 17: Skyline Abroad

No story today; this is, simply, the view we had walking home: a skyline of city houses silhouetted against the ever-darkening blue of the late afternoon sky. Beautiful.

DPP Day 16: Shop! In the Name of Edinburgh . . .

At Christmas time, Edinburgh goes a little crazy (much of it in a good way). An enormous open-air German Christmas market sets up booths all down the eastern half of Prince's Street gardens, offering trivialities such as photographs and wooly scarves to give as gifts, as well as culinary delights including waffles, mulled wine, and German beer. The Ferris wheel towers over the landscape (dominating everything but the Walter Scott monument, which is a formidable piece of landscaping) and a number of other rides spin and whirl to the delight of thousands of otherwise-bored children. There is also an ice skating rink, with prices so steep that the year I. and I decided to go, we hastily backed away and made other plans. Offset against the old-world charm of the market, with its brightly coloured signs and wooden booths, is the high street shopping across Prince's Street itself. Dozens of department stores and smaller shops (almost all chains) advertise their wares using more modern methods, such as garish signs plastered to the windows that promise massive savings if you will only spend, spend, spend!

The sky today as I. and I walked into town was gorgeous, and today's photograph does not really do it justice. We are in the season of hour-long sunsets now: this photo was snapped at half two or so, the sky only got more stunning thereafter, and the sun had set fully by four o'clock. Here is the looming tower of the Scott monument (or as much as could be gotten into a photo with my rather close lens), the serene repose of the castle, and the bustle of the Christmas market and dozens of high street shoppers. This is Edinburgh: not all elegance, but not all bustle either.

DPP Day 15: The Perfect Meal

A British friend of mine last year introduced me to an amazing and (in Europe) inexpensive supper that requires less effort than almost every other supper that requires cooking but still tastes amazing. The brilliance of this meal relies on the cheapness of brie in Britain; the wheel of brie (uncut, which is very important) is baked for about half an hour in the oven (for the perfect meal, stick some breadsticks in about ten minutes before the end and uncap a bottle of red wine to breathe at the same time) and then enjoyed by dipping breadsticks into it. If you are a fan of brie, this is unspeakably delicious.

At any rate, here is the fresh-baked brie my husband pulled out of the oven shortly after I arrived home today, a little weary from my last day of teaching, but refreshed and revitalised by our wonderful (and inexpensive) supper.

DPP Day 14: Wolf Howl

In our neighbourhood (Leith) it isn't unusual for residents visiting one of the nearby shops to tie their dogs up outside the doors. Tonight as I made a quick dash to the discount grocery shop, there were three miserable pups tied up in the square, but this one was by far the most disheartened, and quite vocal about his distress as well.

[Belated] DPP Day 13: No Place Like Home

Yesterday was a long day. I rushed to the library, flew through my manuscripts, bolted a tea, dashed to the train, and flew back to Scotland, Isaac in tow. There were few opportunities for photographs that wouldn't have been creepy to those crammed alongside me on public transport or otherwise generally not permitted, and I was weary long before I even left the library.

Edinburgh welcomed us with open arms, which in Edinburgh often translates to sleeting rain. Not to worry: we clambered onto the bus, I snapped this very unglamorous photo of "home" (which Edinburgh considers Arthur's Seat at sunset, though that sight is not visible from our flat), and the bus kindly dropped us off right outside our front door, keeping us warm and dry along the journey. I miss London--or, particularly, the amazing books she keeps locked in her libraries and archives--but I shall return, and it is good, at last, to be home.

[Belated] DPP Day 12: Day is Donne

'Tis true that the British Library, even with the impressive glass King's Library in the centre of its main hall, doesn't really compete for elegance with the old reading room in the British Museum. Alas. On the other hand, what it lacks in antique elegance, it makes up for with efficiency and useability. Reading rooms are light and the desk space is satisfactory. Tea at the cafe is inexpensive, for tea in London. The lockers are suitably sized, and there are many of them.

By midday, these lockers are usually one long wall of flat, closed, locked doors. In the mornings and in the evenings, however, this is a more common sight: hundreds of doors ready to bear one's backpack and personal items, so that we researchers can enter the reading rooms themselves with only the barest essentials: laptop or notebook, pencil, reader card, and locker key. The ability to lock one's things away and take only what is necessary improves focus when researching--and I enjoyed the angles of the locker doors themselves.

[Belated] DPP Day 11: Elephant in Castle

On my first ever visit to London, I was pretty flexible about the places I wanted to see. My parents and I had six full days in the city, and my top three goals for the trip were to have a British cream tea, to see a West End show (one of three: Les Miserables, The Phantom of the Opera, or the then-running The Woman in White, this latter now mostly forgotten in the wake of a short run and some pretty scathing reviews), and to visit the Tower of London. (Because my parents are awesome, we not only did all three things, but went to see all three of the shows specified, and also visited Oxford for a day, during which excursion I caught my first glimpse of the Bodleian Library). These were valuable and unforgettable experiences, still remembered and loved long after that original trip, and ones which I try to recreate (except the tea, which was ridiculously expensive) for the friends and family members I have since had the opportunity to show around London.

Despite its slightly steep admission fees, the Tower of London is an excursion near and dear to my heart, and I might actually be convinced to go on every trip to London were it not that I usually have pressing other things to do, such as reading and analysing rare manuscripts. So despite the fact that I've visited London more times than I can easily count on one hand, this was only the third time that I've been inside its magnificent gates. It is still magical. More to the point, on each successive visit I've been amazed by just how much there is to see in the Tower itself; I find myself feeling that there will never be enough time to see all the treasures it contains. On this particular visit, I entered the Beauchamp Tower (with amazing carved "graffiti" from past prisoners) for the first time, had a chance to see the top-floor armoury dragon in the White Tower, and, coming down the hill, caught a glimpse of this awesome elephant statue near one of the exits (which I have somehow, despite my love for elephants, missed on the past two trips).

Many other delights, familiar and new, were also to be had, but this little statue captured my heart and provided a nice respite from photos of walls and arms, which make up most of the rest of my Tower photo collection.

[Belated] DPP Day 10: Santa Maybe?

Now that we're safely back home, it's probably safe to comment that one of the perks of living in Edinburgh is its easy access to the airport. When we lived in Fife, it was necessary either to schedule our flights for sometime after eleven o'clock or to spend the night before the flight in Edinburgh (we've done both). Travel required walking to the bus stop, taking a bus (ten minutes) to the rail station, taking the train (an hour or more) to Edinburgh, taking another bus (forty minutes) to the airport, and only then proceeding with the normal pre-flight procedures with which most air travellers are familiar.

Last Friday, we walked out of the flat, waited at the bus stop beneath our windows for seven minutes, took the bus to the airport (granted, a long bus ride, but one with no connections!) and were in the air by 7 a.m. and in London by ten past ten.

After a busy day researching (Friday) and supper at a favourite restaurant (see Friday's DPP), we headed to a favourite holiday flat in Lewisham and, on Saturday, caught up with a friend from the states for two days of exciting tourist adventures. And, of course, this more than anything is the point at which the December Photo Project is difficult, because in choosing this photo--a "flash mob" of Santas in Victoria rail station--I had to veto some excellent candids of a fire juggler, an open air market, an open air book stall, and Darth Vader teaching a little boy about light sabers. Tough life.

DPP Day 9: Past Connections

A long, long time ago, I spent my time in Britain calling my now-husband once a week and my parents slightly less frequently. Many of these connections transpired on Skype, but whenever I was out of St Andrews--whether in Edinburgh, Oxford, London, or further afield--they often transitioned into telephone booths. I spent hours standing in these familiar red booths (sometimes cold, sometimes damp, sometimes adorned with advertisements suggesting that I might be interested in an escort for the evening) talking and chatting until the weather and my feet got the better of me. These two booths, photographed from inside one of my favourite restaurants in the world, are two of the booths in which I made such calls: I have stood inside them, and was very happy, as I. and I shared supper this evening, that I would be going home again to talk with him in person, rather than standing in one for an hour as we caught up on our days.

DPP Day 8: Quiet Hours

I love my morning commute. Scotland in the winter only has about six hours of sun each day and most of my commute is made in darkness, with the early glimmers of what often become hour-long sunrises slipping into the sky as I draw near to Leuchars. The earliest portion of my commute involves a walk through half-awake Leith and up a slight hill to Waverley Rail station, which stands at the end of the German Christmas market that takes place in Edinburgh each December. At night, the market is abuzz with lights and laughter; in the morning it is empty and silent, lurking in the shadow of the Scott Monument on Prince's Street. I love the anticipation and restfulness of the market in the morning:

In other news, the fact that I was able to make my commute at all was a small miracle today, as I ended up on one of the last trains out of Edinburgh and arrived in St Andrews oblivious to the massive winter storm that was sweeping across Scotland. By the time I had finished teaching, most of the bridges out of Fife were closed, and it had become, for most intents and purposes, an island kingdom once again. (Fife's insular structure made it a high-profile potential point of attack in World War II, and some of the British defenses are still visible on beaches on the North Sea coast). One doesn't typically begin a daily commute with the intention of visiting the opposite side of one's country on the way home, but as the only way back to my husband was via Glasgow (and the lady behind the counter at the bus station told me that travel to Edinburgh was impossible) I took the requisite detour and eventually found my way back to Edinburgh, slightly battered by wind and rain along the way.

DPP Day 7: Travel Views

I don't regret our move to Edinburgh very often, and to be quite honest, the things I miss in St Andrews are mostly people and experiences. It is difficult to have supper out, or enjoy a night at the pub with friends, and still get home. Attending parties--such as a good friend's Thanksgiving bash last month--requires careful attention to bus and train times, deliberate advance planning, and the willingness to leave a party an hour or two earlier than we would normally depart.

My Thursday commute is sometimes an exhausting one, and one timed to the minute (except that I am a little paranoid about missing the train, so I actually budget 15 minutes at the rail schedule into my travel time). The essays handed in two weeks ago have been the new bane of my life, however, and I've ended up travelling to St Andrews on five separate days, sometimes by bus (literally a nauseating prospect) and sometimes by train (my preferred transit, but also a slightly more expensive one). I've spent nearly twenty hours on busses and trains in the past two weeks!

Tonight as I was coming home after another day of essay marking (and a forgotten School party, and a meeting with my advisor) I looked out the window as the train pulled into Waverley and saw a lovely sight: the beautiful Christmas decorations on Prince's Street. This photo doesn't really do them justice, but it is a fairly close approximation of my train-window view, which was a pleasant surprise not only because they were pretty, but because the appearance of the numerous blue lights framed in the windows of the train told me that after a long day of hard work, I had come home at last.

DPP Day 6: Around and Around the Flat

One of the amazing things about Leith is its history as a centre of industry and commerce. Many of the flats that are now converted into businesses and homes began as warehouses and factories, a striking benefit of which, today, is their high ceilings and well-insulated walls. Our first-floor flat (which is on the second floor in American terms, just to be confusing) stays fairly warm on all but the coldest days (as well as Sundays, when the shops below us are closed) and has ceilings so tall that I. and I both have difficulty changing the overhead lightbulbs even when standing on chairs. (This is a pleasant change from our last flat, which provided us with many bumps and bruises on our heads when we forgot to duck going through the doorways).

I don't know the date of our staircase, but it is steep and stone and elegant, with a beautiful iron railing that runs from the base all the way to the top floor (to which I've never yet been). Although a little treacherous in heels, it is a pretty impressive feat of engineering, and I enjoy coming home to something splendid, if aging, each night.

DPP Day 5: Books, Books, Books

I have been spending a lot of time in libraries lately, many of them quite wonderful, but this one has found a new special place in our hearts. Located about halfway between home and the rail station, it is a well-stocked public library that spends much of its energies providing services as well as books to the community. There are meeting halls in the back half of the building, flyers and pamphlets in the main hallway, and a special desk indoors dedicated to individuals who need help finding a job or volunteer work, understanding a lease or contract, or getting legal and business matters sorted. The library itself is small but satisfactory (and Edinburgh at large has a pretty extensive literature collection) but the timbre of our neighbourhood is exemplified in the fact that nearly a quarter of the books this branch holds are in languages other than English. At the moment, I. and I have a number of general fiction books on our library cards, as well as a few children's books in other languages for the perfect combination of study and pleasure.

DPP Day 4: Immortal Reflections

Today I. and I escaped our lovely flat to take a walk in an astonishingly lovely winter afternoon. Leith, which had seen a light snowfall earlier in the day, was exquisite in its golden evening glory (sunset is around 3.45 these days) and we walked down to the docks at the heart of its waterfront. It was not a brisk and energetic walk; we paused to enjoy the scenery and water, stopped to look at pub menus (and the menu for a Michelin restaurant just a half mile from our home), took some photos, and briefly visited a Christmas fair put on by a nearby hotel. Outdoors again, pausing to look at some of the poppy wreaths on a war memorial near the docks in a cobbled square, I noticed these tiny and elegant figures surrounding the memorial. My patient husband suffered through posing for this: as the meritorious deeds of these soldiers (however unglamorous) have been provided longevity in the memorial, and these tiny sculptures upon it, so too has this picture captured a moment in our lives and our marriage.

DPP Day 3: Meat and the City

Something I love about our new city life: there are two butchers and a fishmonger within a quarter mile of our flat. This morning while I. was performing his morning ablutions, I nipped out for a few minutes to buy a treat for breakfast: four fresh beef sausages. I had them cooking in the frying pan before he had left the bathroom! Our fishmonger's window display is even more amazing, but I shall save that for another day . . .

DPP Day 2: Under the Winding Bookstair

Edinburgh is pretty well known for its "closes," or steep stairs and alleyways that link some of its higher streets with some of the lower ones. I've heard that many of the current streets were built directly on top of previous byways (some of which can now be accessed during tours), but many other less eerie and touristy places have buildings whose doorways are far below street level (and many of the closes in the old town are now just shortcuts for travelers and residents alike, providing an excellent quick workout on the way as well).

I discovered this bookstore on my first full day as a resident of Edinburgh, after learning to my great chagrin that the bookstore much closer to our home only sells paperbacks, and mostly contemporary fiction (I'm not opposed to either paperbacks or contemporary fiction, but tend to obtain both of these from libraries rather than bookstores as much as possible). This one, however, has a splendid selection of old, beautiful, and worthwhile novels in a broad variety of genres; it's also cosily tucked into, almost under, the sidewalk, which I find pretty splendid; only the "BOOKS" sign on the right side of this photograph actually helps me find it when I'm off to look for a book (or two, or ten).

Oh, books . . . never enough money to buy them all, never enough time to read them all . . .

DPP Day 1: O Christmas Leith

Friends and family who patiently read this blog and watch for monthly updates, I first thought that this year's December Photo Project would be a terrific opportuity to show you some facets of everyday life in Britain. We live in Edinburgh. The castle is beautiful; the Christmas market is beautiful; the Christmas decorations are wonderful; the tourist pubs are splendid; all this is well and good, but life here is more than that. There are days when it rains and days when we don't leave the flat. Many of the pubs we visit are chosen for proximity to home, availability of wifi, price of drinks, and (sometimes) price of food.

Such an endeavour may not get far (I may succumb to the elegance of the castle and the excitement of the Christmas market, or I may simply run out of energy with respect to finding relevant places to photograph), but here I present a first, if slightly dull, snapshot of "real life" in Edinburgh. In a perfect world where we lived a tourist life, this would be a photo of Edinburgh Castle and the beautiful lights decorating the old part of town and the Christmas market. Instead, because this is real life, I present Leith: a sometimes shady neighbourhood, with a slightly bedraggled Christmas tree of its own, but with wonderful shops and amazing bus links. Glamorous it is not, but functional and comfortable it is to great degree.

Merry Christmas from the foot of Leith Walk.

N-overwhelm-ber?

The big news for this month is that I. and I finally have a home again! We have found a beautiful, airy, and well-heated flat in the Leith part of Edinburgh, close to pubs, restaurants, coffee shops, charity shops, bus links, a bookstore, a fishmonger's, and a butcher's. I moved in shortly before I. flew back over, and revelled mightily in the chance to cook meals again . . .

To celebrate the completion of my third chapter, and my husband's return after nearly four weeks apart, and the discovery of some very inexpensive ferry fares, we scuttled off in mid-November for an European getaway.

The ferry left on Thursday evening from Newcastle, an industrial/port city in England about two hours' train ride south of Edinburgh.

After a night on board, we awoke in the morning to a beautiful foggy sea filled with dozens of small boats . . .

We docked in IJmuiden, a port city to the west of Amsterdam. It took quite a while to disembark, mostly due to some technical difficulties.

Amsterdam, wonderful culinary haven that it is, has scuttled quickly up my list of awesome cities, due in great part to its wonderful abundance of cheese:

I., though he enjoyed the cheeses, was also very excited about sampling some of the alcoholic delicacies. Scottish whisky is not usually counted among these, but the packaging was so well done I couldn't resist:

(Instead, we sampled genevre, the alcoholic forefather of gin. It comes in two styles, old and new, and the old version tastes a little like whisky, while the new variety is about as tasteless as vodka).

In addition to the numerous cheese-laden windows, we also enjoyed the delicate craftsmanship of these chocolate shoes:

On our first day in Amsterdam, we were drawn to this little musical cart. We have no idea what it does, but it was a large music box on wheels and its owner appeared to be passing out tracts.

I. particularly enjoyed the window display in this spectacle shop:

On our first afternoon in the city, we visited the houseboat museum, which was wonderful and all kinds of amazing. This is its tiny efficiency kitchen:

And this the mechanical part of the ship (which, as the creepy hand on the right is meant to suggest, was also once the sleeping quarters for the residents' servant/servants).

We also, on our first afternoon, visited the Anne Frank museum, which was not really a place where I really wished to engage in photography. The exhibits were well assembled and interesting, but visitors were generally just shuffled from TV screen to TV screen, in an unending line of gawkers: it was crowded beyond comprehension, which made the carefully plotted exhibition lose some of its poignancy.

On our first morning in the city (a Saturday), we headed out of our hotel in search of a street market,
stumbling across a Black Peter festival along the way (I. tells me this is something to do with a Christmas theme, though I'm unfamiliar with the story). There was music, dancing, and a lot of blackface and ginger cookies.

We walked about five miles into the city centre, and plotted our route to wander through as many parks as possible.

We finally reached the street market, which was all sorts of exciting crammed into a half-mile simply bursting with people. Armed with a list of must-try foods provided by a former teacher/mentor, we bravely waded into the fray and tried raw herring, fries with mayo, and (my favourite) Loempia, a Vietnamese spring roll.

We rounded out our meal with oliebollen, a deep-fried sugar-coated beignet type food:

For second dessert, we indulged in waffles:

Meandering on at last from the delights of the street market, we walked past the Heineken "brouwery" (we were dissuaded from visiting on account of its terribly steep admission fees).

The most exciting part of our Saturday was indubitably the afternoon spent at the "Museum of the Dutch Resistance," which housed an amazing abundance of World War II memorabilia focussed, as the name implies, on the Resistance workers. All the exhibits were captioned in English and Dutch, but I was frustrated by my inability to read the original documents on display (letters, newspapers, postcards, ration books, and all sorts of other exciting things). The museum was pretty quiet, which made it easy to savour the displays; what I particularly enjoyed were the sort of character sketches assembled throughout the museum: each featured individual had a board, usually with a photograph at the top, telling a short story about that person's work in the resistance or response to the war. We learned about some female assassins who dressed up as a romantic couple and shot traitors and German agents, about families who housed Jews and other sought-after individuals, and about normal, everyday people who reacted to the calamities around them in a variety of ways. It was a wonderful collection, and I am only sad that we didn't budget more time for our perusal of the entire museum. (Must learn Dutch and go back!)

After the museum closed, we strolled around the city, enjoying the sights at dusk. I.'s favourite window collected another inhabitant:

We stopped by the large and beautiful central train station to check train times for our next expedition, and I had to take a photo of the magnificent architecture.

Guided by our tour book, we went in search of a pub called Festina Lente, but it was filled to capacity, so we left unsated. On our way to the pub we did visit (in search of Amstel beer, also a city brew), we passed this outdoor shrine to what I can only assume was a jazz quintet/sextet.

The canals are beautiful at night!

Randomly, while in Amsterdam, Isaac was introduced to what he thinks was his first Turkish kebab (having lived near several kebab shops in St Andrews, I am less inclined to concur, but will add that the kebab shop we found had the most delicious kebabs I have ever experienced). We went the first night because everything else near our hotel was closed, and returned on the second night because the food was just that good and impressively inexpensive as well!

We left our hotel early on Sunday to compensate for the citywide transit strike that was affecting trams (our main method of getting to and from our hotel) and some busses. We walked through the beautiful and foggy Sloterpark to get a train at Sloterdijk rail station for our day out of the city.

Our teacher/mentor had recommended a day trip to Zaanse Schaans, a working replica village just north of Amsterdam. I would equate this village to America's Williamsburg, only, perhaps, a little more exciting because of all the windmills and traditional Dutch crafts. The fog was still heavy when we arrived (if you look very closely, there are two windmills in this picture, the second more a looming darkness in the fog than a definable structure: normally, I believe, it's possible to see four or five windmills stretching along the Zaanse Schaans waterfront).

Zaanse Schaans features, among other things, a pewtermaker's workshop (we were able to watch a spoon being poured), a clock museum, and the first Albert Heijns grocery store (now a very large supermarket chain at which we later bought many goodies to take back home). We sampled some delicious coffee in the Albert Heijns.

These barrels offer a much more efficient (and eco-friendly) method of procuring one's liquor:

I. spent some time making friends with a beautiful cat, who was quite distressed when he shoved her off his lap so that he could still spend the day with me.

We visited a bakery museum (for the awesome admission fee of £1) and learned about some older methods of baking bread and other goodies, then splurged on a fresh loaf of bread for our lunch.

Our idea of a cheese, avocado, and fresh bread picnic might have worked better had the weather been less foggy and frigid and had this lovely duck not been quite so zealous in its pursuit of our victuals. (Really, though, it was mostly the cold that got the better of us, and we eventually retreated into the cheese shop/museum in search of warmth).

Slightly warmed from our observations of cheese, we went out in search of windmills. We did visit one, most recently or notably a spice mill, where we learned a lot about the Dutch spice trade and where Isaac discovered that "tying a millstone around [one's] neck" might be a more daunting prospect than he imagined in his childhood. We went in search of some other windmills, but as the fog was heavy and the mills not in operation, we elected not to visit each one in turn. They were beautiful, though!

In search of warmth again, we visited the klompen-shop, where we saw dozens of sample shoes (demonstrating regional and stylistic differences, as well as the elaborate woodworking required for traditional "wedding shoes," which apparently once served as an engagement gift from a would-be bridegroom to his beloved. Some of these were covered in amazing and intricate patterns of stars, flowers, and geometrical shapes, while others had drastically lengthened decorative toes--the description of one pair said that the length of the toe represented the extent of the young man's passion/desire!) We also learned about some traditional ways of making shoes: once done by hand in a process that took hours, a shoe can now be made in about three minutes using the mechanical drill equivalent of a photocopier!

Here are several dozen of the sample shoes that this workshop produces to amaze and delight guests:

Isaac was so fascinated by the klompen that he decided to try on a pair for himself:

After a lovely day in Zaanse Schaans, we took the train back to Amsterdam (where it was still foggy) and began our quest for the ultimate culinary experience of our trip. Near the rail station we passed the Dutch equivalent of a commuter carpark:

The first food item on our "must-try" list was Rijstaffel, litterally a "rice-table," typically served in Indonesian (and sometimes, now, Chinese) restaurants. A little pricey on the menu, we might not have tried it had it not come so highly recommended! We then discovered that the price was more than fair, as we ate like royalty!

Our meal began with a delicious chicken and mushroom soup, which warmed us from the cold damp air and was just scrumptious! We then sampled three different types of appetizers (all delicious). Then we were brought this amazing plate of food, which really does not do our meal justice:

Check out the water glass on the right for scale. This was supposed to be a plate for two; I am not sure I have ever seen so much food in my entire life! After this deliciousness, which included the pineapple towers on the top right for dessert, we were brought coffee and allowed to linger for as long as we liked.

Eventually we ventured back out into the cold and attempted to walk off our ridiculous amazing meal as we headed back to our hotel (still a mile or two away). We finished our evening by doing crossword puzzles in the bar and generally relaxing.

Monday was our last day, and still foggy. We finally got to see this sculpture, located near our hotel, during the daytime:

We took the tram to central Amsterdam but hopped off quickly to go shopping at several street markets and a few supermarkets, being immensely desirous of taking as much Dutch food home as possible. This beautiful building is near the "Neuwmarket" and featured prominently in many of the films in the Dutch Resistance Museum, leading me to suspect that it was quite near the old Jewish quarters of the city. The surrounding square now boasts one of Amsterdam's many street markets (the vans on the left are part of this) although it was a little sparsely occupied on this occasion due to the wet mist.

It stayed about this grey all day, and we enjoyed our last meal and a few last dashes into kaas-shops for more delicious cheese, then caught our bus back to the ferry and enjoyed another quiet sea crossing.

We had a particularly awesome room on this journey, and were able to watch the ship's crew raise and lower the anchor, and the port crew secure the ship to the docks. Here's our morning view of Newcastle as we arrived:

Having never been outside the rail station in Newcastle, we seized the opportunity to walk around some of its older buildings and see its ancient keep (not this building, but this one actually fit into the picture. The keep is off to the right on the other side of the rail bridge).

We enjoyed coffee and a cheap pub lunch, then discovered this wonderful old library: books can only be borrowed with a subscription, but admission is free, the shelves are well stocked, and tea and coffee is available for a very reasonable fee. We sat and sipped our coffees for a while and enjoyed the atmosphere:

And here's a photo of (me in) the stacks, because the husband insisted:

Then . . .
Home at last! And how nice it is to have a home (though we are still so grateful to the many people who let us stay in their homes this summer). We took the train back to Edinburgh, walked back to our flat, unpacked our kaas and genevre and brood and koffee and melk (for koffee) and zout/zoet drop (licorice) and stroopwaffles, and threw all our clothes in the washer because they smelled horribly of marijuana, the smell of which pervaded the entire city centre, some of the pubs, our hotel, some of the trains, and eventually all of our clothes although we never set foot in the coffee shops themselves. (On a related note, please appreciate the above picture of me in the amazing blue sweater, which was a casualty of the trip because one of us has apparently never had to wash wool before and the other of us assumed that everyone knew how to wash wool).

Home and relaxed at last . . . but November was still young! As a special treat, I. and I splurged on two tickets to the pre-West End showing of Top Hat, whose leading lady I particularly wanted to see. Playing, I think, to a completely sold out audience, the actors all put on their best American accents (Summer Strallen, the leading lady, and the understudy whose name I have forgotten who took over playing Horace Hardwick, were particularly fine) and managed a terrific show.

I. and I spent Thanksgiving with some friends in St Andrews, then had a good time this weekend (I.'s first weekend in the new flat, and my first weekend at home without a deadline) exploring some of Edinburgh's special treasures, such as the farmer's market beneath the castle.

We also stopped by the castle to watch the staff fire the one o'clock shot.

Finally, it's properly Advent now (not that this matters to the retail and tourism industry), so the Christmas market is in full swing. Here's a side view of the enormous ferris wheel beside the monument to Sir Walter Scott:

Here's my handsome husband before the merry-go-round:

And this the widest view I could manage of the non-retail part of the Christmas market, which is one of my favourite things about Edinburgh in the winter:

That should suffice for November, I think. Next month, as the icon at the top corner of this page should indicate, I'm planning to participate in the December Photo Project again, so you should be able to enjoy shorter and more frequent postings.