Tag Archives: memoir

Walking solo in Edinburgh

27 Wednesday Jun 2012

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A Scotland Rendezous, Chapter 2

“Start at Edinburgh Castle,” he said, “and then you can walk down this road, called The Royal Mile, to Holyrood Palace.”

I learned that during my first full day in Scotland, Steve, the stranger I flew across the ocean to see, was going to have to attend an all-day lecture at the University of Dundee. But he had already decided that a day trip to Edinburgh by train was a swell solution for me so he drew a little map, outlining the route I should take. I didn’t mind, really. I kind of like being a solo traveler. Besides, it gave me some time to think–think about this man I had just met. Think about this country I just landed in. Think about how this was all going to end after five days.

Oh, and the train ride gave me time to text each of my girlfriends, “Everything going SUPER! Will give details when I get home.”

Natch.

Edinburgh, Scotland

As I disembarked the train it took me awhile to orient myself. For April it was lovely–sunny and warm and not at all what I expected for Scotland. (I expected gloomy weather. That much I did know about Scotland.) There was the token bagpiper on the corner for tourists and every building looked as though it was ancient. Probably because they all were. I almost feel a little ashamed sometimes that I come from a country that is really in its infancy compared to other areas of the world where everything is all about being shiny and new.

Edinburgh Castle

Edinburgh Castle

I couldn’t miss the Edinburgh Castle if I had tried. It looks over the city from Castle Rock letting me know that it’s still in charge. I took my time touring the castle, and took advantage of the headphones so I could learn more about not just the castle but about Scotland, since I came so unprepared.

Calling it a Castle is really a misnomer–it’s actually a fortress and includes several buildings. When I arrived at St. Margaret’s Chapel–a simple building within the walls of the fortress I actually sat on one of the benches for quite a long time. The chapel is still used for ceremonies, such as weddings, and is the one building that felt like there was life still in it. Of course, should any building feel that way, a church would, I suppose. Sitting there I tried to make sense of where I was and how I got there. If any place was going to help me figure everything out a church certainly would. After about 20 minutes and not getting any closer to making sense of it all, I thought, Just go with it. Don’t worry about it.

And that’s what I did.

Calling this a gun seems so understated.

Walking along Royal Mile

After a nice lunch at a cafe I then made my way down the cobblestone Royal Mile, descending the hill and stopping in the little shops that carried tartan wellies, tartan skirts and tartan shawls.

It wasn’t just all tartan. There was orange marmalade and shortbread cookies of course, so I bought a cookie and munched on it as I made my way to Holyrood. Clearly the street is designed for tourists and, well, I was a tourist that day. And I like shortbread cookies.

Holyrood Palace or HolyroodHouse

A little less hectic than the Ediburgh Castle. Fewer tourists and I was half expecting the Queen to make an appearance at any time. The palace buildings are a mish-mash of well-maintained buildings ranging from ancient to really ancient.

Holyrood Palace

Holyrood Palace

After the tour I looked at my watch and realized that I needed to catch the train back to Dundee. These are the moments when I’m traveling alone where I have to admit I’m rather proud of myself that I can navigate my way around, in spite of the fact that I usually don’t get it right the first time. This was one of those times. I found myself on the wrong platform and nearly ended up on my way to London. Thank goodness I wasn’t in a rush. Before I crossed over the “Mind the Gap” warning, I made sure I was on the right train back to Dundee where my new long-distance romance was waiting for me.

Go on to the next chapter.

 

Counting My Blessings of White Christmas

24 Saturday Dec 2011

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I was single, in my twenties and living in Northern California and I wasn’t going home for the holidays. I loved staying in California with my close single girlfriends who were also not going home for the holidays because I had a tradition of our own. We’d go to dinner Christmas Eve and then see It’s a Wonderful Life that was playing at the Stanford Theatre and the following day we’d open presents together.

We were our own family of sorts and we felt a bit like misfits in our own immediate families. We come from a culture where you marry in your early twenties and all of us, well, we sort of missed that boat.

I was also pretty poor. Not living-in-a-box-on-the-streets-of-San Francisco poor, but the Bay Area is not a cheap place to live and my disposable income was always pretty tight, so it wasn’t a priority to buy that airline ticket back home for the holidays.

As the holidays were nearing I was at Costco buying what I’m sure was just one thing (as opposed to a pallet of something like most normal people get at Costco) and I was browsing the book and video tables when I discovered this:

White Christmas box set

A box-set of the movie, White Christmas, which included the VHS, a movie script (yes! the movie script!), and a glossy black and white photo of the cast.

Boy did I want that.

But it was over $30 and I didn’t have $30 to spend on it.

When Christmas arrived my girlfriends and I gathered together in our pajamas after we finished breakfast and we began sharing stories of how our parents seemed to always miss the mark with Christmas presents when we were growing up. Jill told about how all she ever wanted one Christmas was a coat and she got a night gown. Cami had a similar story. And Amber, who has unique taste in really cool things talked about how her family would buy her bizarre things because they thought really bizarre meant really cool. My story was about when I was in junior high and all I wanted was a pair of designer jeans. Everyone had them and I knew that if I had those jeans it would make me so cool and everyone would like me. (Because that’s exactly how fashion works.)

I didn’t get the jeans. Instead, my mom got my sister and I each a Norelco battery-operated manicure / facial kit that had all these attachments to buff and polish your nails as well as attachments to buff and polish your face. It apparently was the equivalent to a man getting a Craftsman tool kit but for female grooming.

norelco

Here’s an example of the lovely Norelco kit that was sold on eBay. Love the avocado green faux velvety casing.

At 13 I really didn’t know much or even care much about grooming. I was going through puberty and a battery-powered grooming kit wasn’t going to solve my problems. Jeans would, though.

We laughed over our stories and marveled at how there seemed to be a common thread about parents missing the mark. We were acting as though we were picked on.

When it came time to open the presents my parents had mailed me I once again felt like they missed the mark. Earlier that month my mom had asked me what I wanted for Christmas and I said, “I need muffin tins. You know, just regular muffin tins.”

I got muffin tins, but they weren’t regular ones. Instead, I got mini muffin tins that make miniature muffins and jumbo muffin tins that make those gigantic muffins. Not what I had asked for.

“You see,” I said to my girl friends. “Why can’t someone give me something I actually asked for?”

Then it was time for the gifts we bought each other–the gifts between girl friends. Amber and Jill both gave me a present they bought for me. When I took off the wrapping paper I saw it. It was the White Christmas boxed set. I looked at it. Then I looked up at both of them. I think it was Amber who said, “We knew you really wanted it.”

White Christmas box set with VHS tape, movie script and B&W glossy pho

And then something happened that had never happened before: My eyes welled up with tears. And I started crying. Amber and Jill looked at each other and then they both looked at me, waiting for me to say something. (Later Jill told me, “We didn’t know what to think. Is she sad? Upset over this? It was a weird reaction.”)

I almost couldn’t talk. I never cry, but I had never wanted something so bad and actually received it. And I was so moved that my two best friends picked up on my desire for White Christmas that they actually gave it to me.

But it would be a tragedy if I ended the story there. Looking back as I write this, I’m cringing at my immaturity and selfishness in the moment that preceded the White Christmas meltdown—the attitude toward my parents who were really trying to get me to think bigger than my wishes and requests. I not only still have the White Christmas boxed set, but I still have those muffin tins and I’ve used them many times. And that Norelco battery operated grooming kit? I’ve thought several times over the past couple of decades that I’d love to have that kit. All along I was thinking that I knew exactly what I needed but I didn’t have the maturity or understanding to look beyond the jeans or the regular muffin tins that I thought I wanted.

The irony in all this is that my favorite song from the movie is the Irving Berlin song, Count Your Blessings Instead of Sheep

When I’m worried and I can’t sleep
I count my blessings instead of sheep
And I fall asleep counting my blessings
When my bankroll is getting small
I think of when I had none at all
And I fall asleep counting my blessings

A Happiness List Time Capsule

10 Saturday Dec 2011

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I’m trying to decide if it’s a funny thing when your past makes a reappearance or it’s just plain weird.

You see, my sister and brother-in-law bought the house we all grew up in and last year when they were tearing up the kitchen to remodel, my sister found a piece of paper with a list on it but didn’t know who it belonged to. She showed it to my mom who said, “Oh, that was Lisa’s,” and so she sent it to me.

Yep. It was mine. It was my list of things I wanted for my birthday that would make me happy. I was sure of it. Here’s the list (click photo to enlarge):

My birthday list for when I was to turn 12.

Let me walk you through how these items would make me happy.

Satin Jacket. This was the item that was guaranteed to open doors for me as a 7th grader. It wasn’t just any satin jacket, but a baseball satin jacket in either baby blue, pink, or mint green. Every girl had one and I wanted one so badly. I knew that if I got that jacket I would never need anything else the rest of my life. I did get the jacket for my birthday (an awesome baby blue reversible jacket–denim on one side and satin on the other), but then I felt I needed Jordache jeans followed by a whole slew of fashion needs. I could never chase down happiness in the fashion world.

Jeans. A 12-year-old always needed new jeans. It was just a matter of convincing my mother that JC Penny wasn’t what I was thinking. (Sigh.)

Hoop necklace. I’m not sure but I think a hoop necklace was just a wire that went around my neck. I believe it was all the rage. Not so certain it’s a good look for me now.

School supplies. My birthday is in August and so school supplies always were associated with my birthday, so as much as I longed to separate the two events (I imagine people who have birthdays close to Christmas deal with the same sort of thing), I just capitulated and put the school supplies on my list anyway.

A mini hymn book. I always wanted those little pocked-sized hymnals people would have handy. I thought it was really cute. Now I’m too old and need the big print hymnal just to see the words and notes.

Hard-back dictionary. Yes, I was a nerd. Still am. I have two hard-back dictionaries in my house now. Plus a Scrabble dictionary. And a big hard-back Roget’s Thesaurus. Plus the Chicago Manual of Style. A bunch of Strunk and White books, a Dictionary of Problem Words and Expressions book and a grammar book. It all started here.

Barry Manilow record, Even Now. Gosh, I had nearly every Barry Manilow album growing up. (My career aspirations were first, be a concert pianist. If that didn’t work out my Plan B was to be a back-up singer for Barry Manilow.)

Stationary. No, I didn’t want to stand still at the time. I actually wanted stationery. The stuff with pretty flowers printed on it so I could write notes on it and pass around in class. Hence, the need for the dictionary.

Green eye shadow. I apologize for that one.

Eye liner (green). Again, apologies.

“Blip!” I must confess, I couldn’t remember what this was so I found it on this website.

Batteries for my watch. Isn’t this sweet? I knew that money didn’t grow on trees, so I was asking for batteries for my poor broken watch so my parents could gift them to me. I sure hope my parents celebrated when they read this.

Boots. And so the shoe obsession began. I still put boots on my list.

Suede shoes. All those mentions about dictionaries, school supplies and batteries was just the warm up to the good stuff–shoes. And who doesn’t want suede shoes?

Camera. I actually had to wait until after college before I got my first camera. And I bought it myself. But I was happy to see it made the list back then. I must have predicted that I’d fall in love with cameras later on.

A “game.” Don’t you love how non-specific I am on this? Again, my parents should be thrilled that I left the field so wide open for them.

Calculator. This one puzzles me. I run away from math and anything to do with calculating.

A set of ink pens. I loved to draw and one year I got colored pencils and this was the year I wanted to move up to color pens. I believe it was felt-tipped pens I was looking for. I’m pretty sure I got them that year for my birthday. (Thanks mom!)

Tape recorder. Not sure what I had in mind for the use of this. Tape player, maybe, but a tape recorder?

Sheet music for piano. I was a good piano student and always looking for the latest Barry Manilow song to play. Or something from The Carpenters. (Sorry Beethoven.)

So yeah, it’s a little weird finding this list. I can remember writing it and hoping that I would get at least a few things from it. I sure wish I had that Satin Baseball Jacket now. There’s no way it would fit on my body but I do remember that it was one of the few things I really, really wanted. I’m glad my mom found it for me and helped make my 7th grade experience somewhat tolerable. (Yes, tolerable. A satin jacket can’t fix everything.)