Edinburgh: can you say Hogmanay?

December 29, 2011

The bar at the Dome

The day started brisk, but nothing like our arrival by train last evening. ("B'ys, she was blowin' a gale," I'm sure Granddad would've said.) We went out with a childhood friend of Tea's who happened to be in Edinburgh at the time, and the words were torn from our mouths on more than one occasion. (My favourite moment of the evening was when Tea and Anna reminisced about seeing the Eurythmics when they were 10.) I'll take these blustery showers, particularly kitted out as we are with base layers and rain trousers.

Silly sods that we are, we wondered how we'd breakfast after our nice, long lie-in. Look no further than the Christmas market one street over from our hotel, on Princes Street. (Tea's like a bloodhound when it comes to them, I'm sure you've realized by now, dear reader.) Before long we were sated on ridiculously chunky seafood broth, toasties made with Isle of Mull cheddar, mulled wine and mead. (I feel that sentence needs a "Huzzah!")

Did someone say toasties? NOM.

Outside BrewDog Edinburgh

From there, it was on to our first BrewDog pub, ever! I know you're probably shaking your head in wonder, given how I go on and on about them, but they've only been around since 2007, and, based in Fraserburgh, Scotland, their pubs are understandably out of the reach of all but the thirstiest of Gloucestershire folk. We sampled half pints of their Christmas Porter and Scotch Ale, and both were excellent: the former was nicely spiced -- you could really taste the chillies -- and the latter had some nice toffee undertones.

In front of Edinburgh Castle

After a wander, taking pictures of the castle in the dying light -- barely gone 4 p.m., mind! -- we made our way down Grassmarket to a Chinese restaurant Tea had wanted to try for ages: Chop Chop. It wouldn't open for another hour, so we killed some time in the nearby Thomson's Bar (found with Tea's handy CAMRA app.). This one-room pub managed some real character, its walls lined with history. I was telling Tea that the various McEwan's, Younger, etc. beer ads, for sweet stout and other wonders of another time, were all chronicled in the Pete Brown book I'd started on the train ride up. (Tea's pint of Fyne Ales' Piper’s Gold was nice, but couldn't compete with my pint of the lovely Hophead by Dark Star that I'd first tried a few months ago in that absolute star of a pub, Cask.)

M'm, dumplings

Chop Chop immediately struck both of us as utterly professional. With no reservation, we worried that we might not get a table; and with good reason. Still, they squeezed us in a 90-minute slot, serving us efficiently, without rushing us. And the food was out of this world; it certainly opened my eyes to the possibilities in Chinese cuisine: pork and coriander dumplings; tasty, tangy cucumber salad; aubergine salad with lemongrass, garlic and other awesomeness I couldn't hope to identify; garlic lamb with cumin. Just amazing. And because we'd ordered the "Banquet for two," we could order more of any of those dishes at no extra charge (which we did, of course).

* * *

December 30, 2011

Arthur's Seat (to the left) at dawn

We got up early (for us) to have plenty of time to catch our tour bus at the Royal Mile at 9 a.m. Our destination: the Scottish Highlands. Tea had picked Rabbie's at random the night before, and in short order it was clear she'd hit the jackpot: Euan, both our driver and guide, was enthusiastic, engaging, funny and knowledgeable. Plus, he kept us to a schedule without being overbearing, invited questions throughout while keeping an eye on the road, and was perfectly calm in the proper snowstorm that threatened to ground us in Pitlochry.

Dunkeld Cathedral

Our route took us over the Firth (fjord) of Forth, past Fife and through Perth, to Dunkeld, notable for its proximity to Birnam (and the famous wood of the same name) and, despite a population of little more than 1000, its cathedral. After wandering the grounds of the latter and stopping for a quick bite to eat in the town itself, we hopped over to the Hermitage for a longer walk. While stunning, its beauty was marred by a recent hurricane. A local news story from mid-month explains:

After shutting down the Dunkeld woodland site, North Perthshire property manager Ben Notley explained: “The Hermitage took a battering with yesterday’s winds and unfortunately we have lost a lot of trees. Some of these are very large, root systems have been uprooted and the area is very unsafe... We hope to reopen in time for the Christmas holidays.”

Thank goodness they succeeded! Still, memories of touring Point Pleasant Park after Hurricane Juan followed me back to the bus.

Snow's arrived!

Next up was the Victorian spa town of Pitlochry. As we toured one of the town's two distilleries(!), Blair Athol -- whose single malt isn't sold beyond their shop, but makes up much of the Bell's blend -- however, the stormy weather caught us, cutting our route through the Highlands a bit short. Still, it made for a fun lunch stop: Tea's app. pegged the Moulin Inn and Brewery as our best bet, a mere two kilometres from the town's thoroughfare. What we failed to realize was that it was uphill, over a good layer of snow by that point. True to our heritage, we made it, scarfed down a delicious roast pork dinner, sampled all four of their brews(!) -- their light ale was the recommendation, and the best -- and made it back to the bus with minutes to spare. Tea even pushed out a stuck car on the way back! (Where was I, you say? U'm, well, I'd run ahead to flag down Euan, convinced we were late.)

At the Moulin Inn and Brewery

That roast pork was even tastier than it looks

Aside: the other distillery, Edradour, was a tantalizing few hundred metres beyond the inn. Ah, for more time. And I've never seen such a selection of their whisky as was behind that bar! Bottles of 'Straight from the Cask' I'd never heard of, tall bottles(!) -- I know them for their stubby bottles; there were easily a dozen varieties on display. I shall return!

Euan brought us back through Aberfeldy and Crieff as the snow gave way to rain. As we drove by Stirling Castle, the fog obscured all but a few lights at its base.

* * *

All the streets around the Royal Mile were closed in preparation for Hogmanay, but our cabbie managed to thread a route from our hotel to our apartment for the next few nights, near the foot of Arthur's Seat. Once there, we quickly dropped our bags and headed back in for the Torchlight Procession.

If you haven't heard of it, look it up! It - blew - my - mind.

The only other time I've been surrounded by that much open flame was at the candlelight service every Christmas Eve at Wesley United Church in St. John's when I was a kid -- where the colossal responsibility of tempering flame and wax barely left me breath to sing -- and these were flaming brands of wood, rope and wax longer than my forearm! The street was full of them! As far as the eye could see! And there was danger on the wind, for surely so much wood-smoke is no campfire, but a raging inferno, my brain would periodically pipe.

And as if that weren't enough, they closed it with fireworks right overhead, almost asking to be cupped in our upraised hands.

We truly were drunk on it. Back at the fair and Christmas market by the Scott Monument, we sang, can-can'd, and pole-danced, sanity be damned! Then, exhausted, we supped, and drank mulled whisky from a fish bowl. As Cassie would say, "Awww, yeah."

* * *

December 31, 2011

After the lie-in of champions, we seized the day, moving our New Year's Day walk up Arthur's Seat ahead. Our ambition knew no bounds as we tackled the steepest route, our breath ripped from our mouths by the gales, even as we needed it most. Still, we conquered, carefully celebrating amongst the jagged rocks and pooled water whilst being buffeted. The descent offered little respite, and while brown bums and scrapped hands surrounded us, we eventually emerged unscathed, largely thanks to the course struck by 'Billy Goat' Button.

[After a quick stop for groceries, it was time to prepare for the imminent celebrations...]

* * *

January 1, 2012

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Last night was a blast! So much goodwill and bonhomie. And it was really well organized as well: lots of toilets, and plenty of police and staff to answer questions; you could tell they'd done this before. To feel so safe amongst 80000 people is truly a testament.

The fireworks display, mirrored at Holyrood Palace and the castle, blew my socks off! And while things dispersed shortly thereafter, our band of eight kept the party goin' a good while longer.

Good times!

Check out our Picasa album for more pictures from the trip.

The Great British Cheese Festival

Despite the grim forecast, we stuck to our plan of yet another day out in Cardiff; this time, for the Great British Cheese Festival, held on the castle grounds. We met Button at the train station, backpacks stuffed for all occasions with both a blanket and rain gear. We hadn't bought tickets in advance, and were brought up short by the massive line that stretched on in front of the castle. Luckily, however, it moved quickly, and we soon found ourselves on the grounds with an hour 'til our guided tour.

While Tea and Button made their way to the star of the show, I peeled off for the beer tent. Folks were seven and eight deep in front of the bar at that point, so it took me right up 'til tour time to get the two half pints I'd settled on: Sambrook's Wandle Ale -- I'd be wanting to try Sambrook's for a while now -- and Thornbridge's Sequoia. Well worth it, let me say; particularly the latter. (And I'd just brought a mini cask of their Jaipur to a leaving do the night before; you can't have too much Thornbridge in your life, I've decided.) The ladies helped me polish those off sharpish, and we made it to the start of the tour with a minute or two to spare.

After a fantastic guided tour, we met up with more friends, in Cardiff for the start of their holiday in Wales. Tea bought more cheese and breads, I bought a few remaining bottles of the popular Untapped Brewery's stock, and we filled up on Pieminister goodness. Unfortunately, as we ate and drank, watching the surprisingly competitive cheese tossing, they closed the keep. Button was undaunted, however, and amiable to our second choice for exercise: walking to Cardiff Bay; something Tea and I had talked about for as long as we'd been visiting Cardiff, but never done.

The Roald Dahl Plass (or plaza) was really something to see, but it was the smell of the sea -- and the freshwater lake before it, created by the barrage -- that hit us first. The Wales Millennium Centre, the Water Tower, and the Senedd -- home of the Welsh Government -- were all a feast for the eyes, particularly in the light of the setting sun. While we didn't make it all the way to the barrage, we made a good effort, treating ourselves to a taxi back to the castle afterwards. From there, we had time for a quick stop at Zero Degrees to buy a mini cask of the Oktoberfestbier I missed last weekend before catching the train home.

Check out our Picasa album for more pictures from the day.

The Third Annual Cheltenham Cricket Club Beer Festival

Tea and I have made an appearance at the Cheltenham Cricket Club Beer and Wine Festival each of the three years it's been running. It's improving every year, and always seems to be well attended. We normally go on the Sunday, but yesterday was a nice change: the evening band in particular really dialled things up from the typically relaxed atmosphere, getting folks on their feet.

They planned for all weather as well; handy, given how the sky simply opened late in the afternoon; just bucketed for a good half hour, with uncommon thunder and lightning. The marquee held up well, though, and soon the festivities were spread out over the cricket grounds again.

The beers were excellent as well. My favourite had to be the Lakeland Lager, by Hawkshead Brewery, up in the Lake District. An odd choice, you might think, but, as they (and many others) say on their site, it's an excellent style that's got a bad name in the last few decades. I simply couldn't pass up the chance to try a cask-conditioned lager, and I'm so glad I did: what the tasting notes refer to as a dry character almost approached a sourness, for me, and put me in mind of some of the lambics I've enjoyed; really exciting and refreshing. And now, reading Hawkshead's own notes, it's mostly brewed for the bottle, not the cask, so I count myself doubly fortunate.

Mom, at last year's festival

Other favourites included:

• Boggart Hole Clough Brewery's Dark Mild
• Kelham Island Brewery's Pale Rider
• Burton Bridge Brewery's Damson Porter and Bramble Stout
• Stroud Brewery's Tom Long
• Prescott Brewery's Hill Climb: old, local, wonderful standby

Baltic cruise: Helsinki: sauna nation

[We pick up my travel journal on the eve of our historic first steps on Russian soil.

The post title comes from the two million saunas in Finland; enough to house the 5.1 million Finns simultaneously, with room to spare.]

July 2, 2011: Helsinki

Back on the boat, docked in Helsinki. What a fantastic day! Not a cloud in the sky. We passed a sign before midday that read 29℃; hilarious, when you consider that we thought this'd be our coldest stop. (It is our most northern one.)

♫ One of these things is not like the others ♪

Sailing into Helsinki was very reminiscent of the approach to Stockholm, with the many treeds islands and islets. As we entered the port -- which is rare amongst the Nordic countries for its tendency to freeze in the winter, and explains Finnish expertise in the manufacture of icebreakers -- sailing vessels lined the horizon: while we were too early for the regatta in Warnemünde, we docked smack in the middle of one in Helsinki. They're very serious about their boating: their oldest yachting club began in the mid 1800s and is still in operation.

The day began with markets: first, the covered Hakaniemi Market Hall, built in 1914. It sold all sorts of food -- including amazing fish, of course -- and I loved all the old photographs of its early days, displayed throughout. Then we took in the nearby, open-air kauppatori (market square). There were all sorts of vendors again, including fishmongers selling their catch right from their boats, those selling all manner of woollen garments -- later, I picked up a pair of wool socks from a woman who spoke very little English; a rarity, I can assure you (at least in Helsinki, despite the two official languages being Finnish and Swedish) -- florists, painters, jewellers, and many, many food stands. We made a note to come back for lunch.

Uspenski Cathedral

So began the religious segment of the day: first, the Eastern Orthodox church, Uspenski Cathedral. Oddly, it was open to tourists during a baptism; tourism trumps all in Helsinki, apparently. Next up was the Lutheran church, Helsinki Cathedral. The dramatic white steps leading up to it, and the cobblestone square and fountain before it, make it a natural congregation point for the Finns, it seems. On this day, it was the start of their gay pride parade, Helsinki Pride.

We could feel the energy building as we made our way to one final church, and the last sight on our list: the famous Rock (Temppeliaukio) Church. (Unfortunately, it was closed for a wedding; scrap that tourism trumps all bit.) This energy reached Notting Hill Festival proportions as we headed back to the kauppatori. All the city's green space -- plenty enough to rival Stockholm, incidentally, which has been widely lauded on that point throughout our cruise -- was lined with picnickers, out to show their support, enjoy the sun, have fun, or all of the above.

Helsinki Cathedral

Frequent readers will know the weight I give a city's vibe or pulse. Helsinki has it in spades, as well as a sense of conviviality and community (if that milktoast term means anything these days) that I hope extends beyond the celebrations of the day; that's the problem with day stops to new places, of course: I don't know. Frankly, residents might risk cardiac arrest, displaying such joie de vivre on a daily basis.

I suspect much of what I felt is there year round, because there was plenty of evidence unrelated to gay pride: one intersection was strung with many laden clotheslines, whether as art or in fun (or both, of course), I couldn't say. In a park, a band included a cardboard box drummer -- and a good one at that!

Everywhere you turned, people were out enjoying themselves, in groups big and small. After seeing a few hen dos in full swing mid afternoon, it came to us that the seasons may have a lot to do with this: in the winter, parts of northern Finland never see the sun, and even Helsinki is limited to three or four hours of daylight for long stretches. Best get out and enjoy that (almost endless, at times) sunlight when it comes then!

I'm forever relating new places to those I've seen. With Helsinki, I struggled. Much of it reminded me of what I'd imagine the southern USA is like, along the coast. (But I'm relying on television for much of that, I hasten to qualify.) The public transportation is all European, though, even if the street cars hint at San Francisco. We really enjoyed Stockholm, but, particularly for a short stay, you can't beat Helsinki's accessibility; it's a walker's city. (I do see a long weekend in Sweden in our future, however, when we have the time to explore.)

We rounded out the day with a (late) fish lunch in the kauppatori -- even tastier than we'd been imagining on our long walk back -- and a boat tour of the harbour. The latter may have squeaked in as the highlight of an amazing day, as it allowed us to take in the sights (and a load off!) in a fully licensed environment.

I met two lost ladies from St. Petersburg earlier in the day -- they were looking for the bus terminal; luckily a passer-by spoke Russian and was able to direct them -- and tomorrow I get to see it. Can hardly wait!

Up next: St. Petersburg, Russia

There are more pictures from the amazing day in our Picasa album, as usual.

A party at Wotton Hall

Walking to the bus stop last night, one could hardly be blamed for worrying whether the evening was going awry. We had a destination (Wotton Hall, Gloucester) and a route (no. 10), but beyond that, it was all a bit fuzzy. We knew there was a small beer festival at that hall this weekend, but their Web site allocated far more real estate to a 60s and 70s dance, going on we knew not when.

As we sat on the bus, halfway to Gloucester, two nicely dressed ladies and a spiffy chap got on. We privately joked about them getting off at our stop, only to suffer that sinking feeling as they pushed the bell while we gathered our stuff. In a scene right out of one of those 80s teen movies, we just stood there on the pavement, the bus pulling away, staring at the dozen lads 'n' lasses in waistcoats and gowns on the hall's steps, smokin' and lookin' right back. After what seemed like a heck of a long time, but was probably just half a dozen seconds, the tension broke and they went back to gabbin' 'n' puffin'. Pluckin' up our courage, we squeezed through the crowd, assuming we'd made some horrible mistake.

Enjoying pints of Codrington Winter Royal

Upon entering, the "Private Party" sign immediately to our left perked us up, as did the doorman's, "Back to the skittles alley," in response to our beery query. Wotton Hall was a-hoppin'! In addition to that reception, there was a skittles match in full swing, a wine tasting, an open mic night, and, thankfully, a beer festival! That place is clearly the heart of their community. Such a great atmosphere; warm and welcoming.

We met up with American Joe and had a great chat over a few pints, then caught the last bus back home, where Matt 'n' I broke out Guitar Hero III, rockin' it double-axe style 'til the wee hours. Good times!

"Are you a *real* Canadian?"

We had a better plan this year, buying a return bus fare that got the six of us to the Tewkesbury Winter Ale Festival a bit before noon -- we'd heard they were limiting the attendance to 300 this year, and didn't want to miss out. I don't know if they got that many, but it was certainly well attended, and better stocked this year, with plenty of choices left on this, the last day. (Last year they had little left but cider less than halfway through the final day.)

A great selection too, that I was largely unfamiliar with: I knew maybe half a dozen of the 70 ales available! Favourites included Orkney's Raven -- lovely nose, almost like pine needles -- Black Ops (can't remember the brewer) and a whopper, at 10%, called... Old Thakey? Thakes? Something like that; more like a port than an ale, but really smooth and tasty. [Correction: I didn't do too bad, actually: the Raven was by Thornbridge, Black Ops was by Salopian (the same folks that do the Lemon Dream that Tea and her friend, Liv, love), and, finally, the whopper was Thomas Sykes Ale by Burton Bridge. Thanks to Matt for digging out the pamphlet.] The entertainment was also excellent: the Tewkesbury town band, followed by Six Nations rugby on the big screen.

On one trip to the cask room, Tea was stopped by two gentlemen serving food, "Are you a real Canadian?" pointing at her recently acquired Roots swag.

"Yeeesss."

"We have a question for you: how do Eskimos bury their dead?"

Tea, Matt (a fellow Canadian) and I exchanged looks and shrugs. I don't think they believed any of our suggestions, which included cremation and boat graves. (We had no clue. Turns out the answer is just like us, and, historically, under cairns.)

Awesome mustard we'd had earlier

Good times. We hit the Bank House for some grub once back in town, followed by a nightcap at a friend's place. Check out our Picasa album for more pictures from the festival.

Western Superman... Or Weston-Super-Mare

The title is a reference to the first time Weston was mentioned around Tea: "They always say it so fast!"

Saturday started out beautifully, so we decided to get in an early run -- only our third at that point, but we're making good progress. Then we hopped in the car for the short drive to the coastal town of Weston-Super-Mare.

I have to say that I found the approach a bit rough. Tea was in love with the place from the moment we drove out on the widest, flattest beach that I'd ever seen -- our parking lot for the day -- but I still dwelling on the widely-spaced houses set back from the road that left me... cold. Well, let's just say I certainly warmed to the place over the course of the day; it really is beautiful.

The town hosted a sand sculpture festival over the summer that had just finished up a few weeks prior, but we were happy to learn that they were still charging an admission and maintaining the sculptures for the time being. Some really detailed work was on display, of many British favourites, including Monty Python, Doctor Who, and Wallace and Gromit. Shakespeare, Hitchcock, Churchill and the Beatles were all represented, as was a typical day by the sea -- right down to the Flake bar in the ice cream, which Tea was tickled to see.

There were plenty of fish 'n' chip take-aways along the waterfront, but we opted to stop at the Old Thatched Cottage restaurant -- the gusts would cool our food in jig time otherwise, Mom was quick to point out. (And won't thank me for highlighting here.) It turned out to be a great decision: the staff were so friendly, and the food -- fish 'n' chips for Mom and me, roast beef for Tea -- was delicious. Even the coffee was excellent.

The Grand Pier is supposed to be re-opening this month, but it was still closed when we were there. There's plenty to see, nonetheless. Bellies full, we walked out to the Knightstone Causeway, past a park with big sprinklers and kids running through them in swimsuits, no less -- it wasn't that nice out, we agreed, adding that the locals must be made of tougher stuff.

We then walked back to the car and continued on down the beach to the golf course and camp ground. Near there, a large section had been cordoned off for kite buggies and kite skating. We'd never seen anything like that before, but agreed that it looked like lots of fun. Below is what Tea declared would be the picture of the day -- a claim I find difficult to dispute.

Back to the Cotswolds: Postlip and Cirencester

After so many weekends away, or preparing to leave, it was nice to stay local for a change. We had plans to attend the first evening of the annual Cotswold Beer Festival in Postlip, and then decided that getting back to those countryside walks on Saturday or Sunday wouldn't go amiss either.

We bought tickets for a bus to and from the festival, which worked seamlessly. We're fairly organised about these festivals now -- mind you, this was definitely the biggest one we'd been to by far -- bringing snacks, water, jumpers (i.e., sweaters), and a large camping blanket that's waterproof on one side; it beats standing the whole time, and packs up nicer than those camping chairs. The selection of ales was so impressive; all the more so because you're in this enormous converted barn, listening to great live music. I had ales that had hints of fruit cake, others called Pig's Ear and Dr Hexter's Healer, porters called Old Slug, and the list goes on.

Oddly enough, we had an epic lie-in on Saturday. Then it was down to High Street for some errands, and lunch at Nando's; that fixed us right up. (So glad to hear they have one in Ottawa.) Rejuvenated, we decided that today would be the day that we'd make our much-talked-about run to Ikea in Bristol. And it worked out really well: much like home, it seems folks forget that the place is open late on the weekends.

The Church of St. John the Baptist

We got up a bit late on Sunday as well -- I made some of the Turkish tea we'd brought back from Kuşadası, which really hit the spot -- so we decided to stay close for our walk. In the end, Cirencester, with its beautiful Church of St. John the Baptist, won out. We had a great time wandering the church grounds, and through Bathurst Estate and Cirencester Park, before stopping for a pick-me-up at the Crown.

On the drive home, we stopped at the Golden Heart Inn, something I've been wanting to do for a long time. It won Pub of the Year in 2009, and it isn't hard to see why. There's such a great atmosphere, delicious food -- Tea and I ordered one roast beef and one turkey carvery, and shared them -- and a surprisingly-big patio area out back.

Carvery at the Golden Heart Inn

As luck would have it, we happened to be driving back as MacKay and Reid -- two friends from home -- were making their way to their hotel. I got out and led the guys to one of our favourite pubs, The Royal Union, while Tea dropped the car home and then joined us. We had a blast, catchin' up and chatting with the owner -- and giving his two dogs, Kelly and Lucy, lots of love; have I talked about how much I love that part of their culture lately? It's so natural, and... good for the heart, I guess you could say.

Another lie-in wouldn't've hurt either, after all that, but alas, that was the weekend.