scotland: part 2
i'm as of yet undecided as to how many parts this will stretch into. i suppose it all hinges on my skill/patience as a writer, my academic burdens, and whether or not my health holds out. as it is, none of the above are looking good. i've spent the better part of the past two days breathing out of my mouth and coughing into wadded up tissues that i carry around with me. it snowed today. where is spring?
monday in scotland saw me once again thrust into the uphill streets of edinburgh alone. my friend, ever the darling, gave me a compass (which i accidentally stole) and a city map and pointed me in some direction after we had to part ways so that he could go to school. i almost went to a lecture, but then remembered that it was fucking SPRINGBREAK 06 WOOOOO and i don't do no book learnin'. so i went to play in the hypercapitalist city with my new credit card and no concept of exchange rates.
this is princes st., as photographed from the top of the scott monument (more on that in thursday's account). basically it's all the spending allure and prestige of georgetown fit enticingly into old european stone buildings; there were 2 h&m's within 3 blocks, not to mention fancy stores i'd never heard of but adored. for the most part i was impressed by uk fashion and really wanted to pass for edinburgh eurotrash, mostly on account of the straightleg jeans and tunic tops with polkadots (less for the mini-mini-denim-skirts always worn with black leggings and uggs, or some furry boot variant). so i spent hours shopping, at least one of those trying to figure out european and uk sizing, which are different from the us as well as different from each other. thank god for h&m, which puts all the international sizes on the tag. then once i'd figured out the conversion, i spent the rest of the day elated in front of dressing room mirrors as i discovered i'm now 2 sizes smaller than i was in january. regardless of if that's true or uk sizes are just generous with the cuts, i felt hot and terrific for an afternoon and straight strutted down the sidewalk with mad sway in my hips.
scotland, don't even front like you didn't want this.
before committing ourselves to nighttime, we ate baked potatos at a little take-away place that only serves baked potatos. potatos are about the closest thing you can get to a vegetable in scotland, which is fine by me on account of i love them in all their delicious forms. so this place gave you an extensive list of potato toppings, you picked one or some or whatever, and they made you a giant tasty potato. i got vegan chili on mine. fucking a. it was an experience.
so then we commenced to drinkin'. we started at this bar called rush, which was apparently voted the best backpackers bar in the city, presumably because it's pretty cheap. it was early, and the place was pretty empty and pretty dive-y, which is how i like bars. i like to be able to just sit and drink and talk and gesture with cigarettes in my fingers. we threw back more than one, smoked the last of my american cigarettes (seriously, i'm a dumbass), and moved on to the jazz bar where i threw down 10 pounds to see ravi coltrane.
i loved the space. it was pretty much exactly what i imagined a place called "the jazz bar" would look like: a little brick basement with b&w photos on the wall, tables and chairs for hanging out, an intimate stage, and a smoky haze. however, at this point i was quite drunk and wouldn't have cared much where you put me; i was hanging out and pretty good. we got there early so we had a table, which was great. the place filled up to standing room only pretty quick, but the whole time we got to sit there and look hip (well, not so much me; apparently camera flash and alcohol turns me into a crazy looking albino) and drink gin & tonics while listening to jazz. while ravi was playing, i was the happiest kind of drunk i could have possibly been at that moment; i was so content with where i was and what i was doing and every noise in the air. i had my eyes closed for half the set, but i was actually awake and so warm and happily aware of everything. the music was beautiful, and was probably the first time i've actually really appreciated listening to jazz. i'd love to tell you more about it, but i don't know how to talk about jazz.
after stumbling to the surface, i turned from calm, relaxed drunk to super high-octane drunk and started challenging tom to races down city blocks. something about our dynamic necessitates that most things be competitions. he always wins, unless it's about the date of the battle of hastings. i would have won the races if i had my running shoes and i wasn't wearing my messenger bag and my legs were as long as his stupid tall limbs. i remember feeling so excited that night, and like i was the only person in the city who really knew how good it was.
(next update: the best muffin you've never eaten, and beerpong goes global)
monday in scotland saw me once again thrust into the uphill streets of edinburgh alone. my friend, ever the darling, gave me a compass (which i accidentally stole) and a city map and pointed me in some direction after we had to part ways so that he could go to school. i almost went to a lecture, but then remembered that it was fucking SPRINGBREAK 06 WOOOOO and i don't do no book learnin'. so i went to play in the hypercapitalist city with my new credit card and no concept of exchange rates.
this is princes st., as photographed from the top of the scott monument (more on that in thursday's account). basically it's all the spending allure and prestige of georgetown fit enticingly into old european stone buildings; there were 2 h&m's within 3 blocks, not to mention fancy stores i'd never heard of but adored. for the most part i was impressed by uk fashion and really wanted to pass for edinburgh eurotrash, mostly on account of the straightleg jeans and tunic tops with polkadots (less for the mini-mini-denim-skirts always worn with black leggings and uggs, or some furry boot variant). so i spent hours shopping, at least one of those trying to figure out european and uk sizing, which are different from the us as well as different from each other. thank god for h&m, which puts all the international sizes on the tag. then once i'd figured out the conversion, i spent the rest of the day elated in front of dressing room mirrors as i discovered i'm now 2 sizes smaller than i was in january. regardless of if that's true or uk sizes are just generous with the cuts, i felt hot and terrific for an afternoon and straight strutted down the sidewalk with mad sway in my hips.
scotland, don't even front like you didn't want this.
before committing ourselves to nighttime, we ate baked potatos at a little take-away place that only serves baked potatos. potatos are about the closest thing you can get to a vegetable in scotland, which is fine by me on account of i love them in all their delicious forms. so this place gave you an extensive list of potato toppings, you picked one or some or whatever, and they made you a giant tasty potato. i got vegan chili on mine. fucking a. it was an experience.
so then we commenced to drinkin'. we started at this bar called rush, which was apparently voted the best backpackers bar in the city, presumably because it's pretty cheap. it was early, and the place was pretty empty and pretty dive-y, which is how i like bars. i like to be able to just sit and drink and talk and gesture with cigarettes in my fingers. we threw back more than one, smoked the last of my american cigarettes (seriously, i'm a dumbass), and moved on to the jazz bar where i threw down 10 pounds to see ravi coltrane.
i loved the space. it was pretty much exactly what i imagined a place called "the jazz bar" would look like: a little brick basement with b&w photos on the wall, tables and chairs for hanging out, an intimate stage, and a smoky haze. however, at this point i was quite drunk and wouldn't have cared much where you put me; i was hanging out and pretty good. we got there early so we had a table, which was great. the place filled up to standing room only pretty quick, but the whole time we got to sit there and look hip (well, not so much me; apparently camera flash and alcohol turns me into a crazy looking albino) and drink gin & tonics while listening to jazz. while ravi was playing, i was the happiest kind of drunk i could have possibly been at that moment; i was so content with where i was and what i was doing and every noise in the air. i had my eyes closed for half the set, but i was actually awake and so warm and happily aware of everything. the music was beautiful, and was probably the first time i've actually really appreciated listening to jazz. i'd love to tell you more about it, but i don't know how to talk about jazz.
after stumbling to the surface, i turned from calm, relaxed drunk to super high-octane drunk and started challenging tom to races down city blocks. something about our dynamic necessitates that most things be competitions. he always wins, unless it's about the date of the battle of hastings. i would have won the races if i had my running shoes and i wasn't wearing my messenger bag and my legs were as long as his stupid tall limbs. i remember feeling so excited that night, and like i was the only person in the city who really knew how good it was.
(next update: the best muffin you've never eaten, and beerpong goes global)
posted by sarah at 8:12 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home