Why isn't Canada part of the United States? Sunday, July 26th

No my Canadian friends, I am not suggesting that it should be that way! I was just musing about it this morning as I continued chronicling my trip to Scotland. Scotland and England fought so many battles and ended up (grudgingly) becoming one country, the United Kingdom/Great Britain. Although, to be strictly fair, Wales and Scotland have certainly maintained their identities. I wondered how it was that Canada hasn't yet been swallowed up--politically, we won't talk about economically--by the United States. I think that might make an interesting comparison some time, to write a paper on the differences between the Scotland/England issue and the Canada/U.S. Especially as so many Scots and English formed the original government of both countries. But that will be for another time.

Back to July 26th. After the exhilaration of Saturday night and returning very late to the residence, I woke up to a familiar sound--pounding rain. Hmmm, what was that going to do to the Gathering, I wondered. It seemed to me that those heavy events--putting the shot and throwing the hammer--were difficult enough on solid ground. They'd be much dicier in slippery mud. In fact I'd seen one contestant lose his grip on the hammer on Saturday and it went flying to the side, almost hitting a woman who'd unwisely decided to get up close to watch.

I mentioned the weather to one of the contestants I met at breakfast on Sunday, a huge African American man from South Carolina wearing a kilt. I'd seen him compete, I think he was in third place and I also think that's where he remained at the end of Sunday's competition. He said that the contestants just coped with whatever weather presented itself. And we agreed that the original Highlanders would probably have competed in the rain more often than not anyway.

But by the time I'd finished breakfast, repacked all my belongings and dragged them down the three flights of stairs and across the campus to the left luggage, the rain had stopped and the sky was variable. Could go one way, could go the other. I checked out and walked down to Holyrood once again. I really had no idea of what I wanted to see so once again I wandered. I sat in on a discussion by the Scottish Records Office of what kind of old records are available to family history researchers, then I poked around some of the genealogical exhibits. Learned some new things about family research that I will investigate further. Sampled some of the Scottish food that was being sold at the various stands--strawberries and cream, handmade chocolates, boar sausage.

And I watched a few more Highland heavies like throwing the hammer

I think that photographer is in a rather dangerous place. I shot this with my zoom ;)

Tug of war. These are the amateurs, recruited from the audience to match their strength against

the so-called world champion tug of war team. I don't think these were the real world champions (which, according to Google are a team from Switzerland, ironically, another country in my family tree), I think they were probably Scotland's champions. Whatever they were, they won virtually every match against the amateurs bar one where either they let them win or they got a bit cocky. If you've never seen tug of war, this position is the beginning one. Once the tugging really gets going, the teams dig their heels in and lean very far back so they are almost parallel to, and touching, the ground. Actually quite fun to watch.

But without anyone to go around with, I eventually lost interest in watching them and even the bagpipes were beginning to hurt my ears--I understand how they could be effective in battle. So I wandered out of Holyrood Park and up the Royal Mile and over to Princes Street, the modern "main street" in Edinburgh. It's completely torn up right now though because they are building a tramway, much to many of the Scots' disgust. More government money being spent. I looked back at Edinburgh across Princes Street Gardens from the bridge next to the Scottish National Gallery.

Scott (Sir Walter) Monument. I didn't climb up the monument although you can; there are several viewing decks. The reason it looks so dark is that it is built of shale which has leeched oil since it was built. Hence its dark look, very Victorian. Apparently Bill Bryson, the travel writer, has dubbed it a "gothic rocket ship" (from Notes from a Small Island) and I think that's a very good observation.

I've mentioned a couple of times the fact of being alone. I think that on that Sunday I felt somewhat sad. Again, it was the post-Saturday parade letdown, the end-of-the-event feeling. There's something about wandering around a strange city, seeing couples and families, that gives me a "why aren't I with my family" feeling. But bloom where I'm planted, this is a terrific opportunity to just be me.

Monument to the Black Watch, Royal Highland Regiment. Canada has its own Black Watch too and I remember as a small girl my dad taking me to see them parade. (No, the people weren't posing for me, they were waiting to cross the street.)

The front of Canongate kirk on the Royal Mile. This is the kirk (church) of Holyrood Palace, built in 1691 by the order of King James VII although he was off the throne by the time it was completed. Those are his coat of arms over the doorway and on the top of the building is the stag head. The stag represents the story of a stag that attacked Scotland's King David I. As the stag was attacking (I didn't know that deer attack), the King saw a vision of the Holy Cross (Rood) appear and, taking courage, fought off the stag. In thanksgiving, David built the original Abbey in 1128 which is in ruins in the grounds of Holyrood Palace. Canongate Kirk replaced that Abbey.

The inside of Canongate Kirk. Very simple, very minimalist. And peaceful.

Just outside the gates to the Kirk is a statue of Robert Fergusson, a poet who died at just 24 years of age. He wrote many poems, one of the most famous being "Auld Reekie," which celebrated Edinburgh (the words mean "Old Smoky," an affectionate term for the city, in Scots) and was an inspiration to Robbie Burns and several other Scots poets. The statue was erected in 2004 by the Friends of Robert Fergusson. Obviously not people who knew him personally but people who admired his work. Fergusson was originally buried in an unmarked grave in Canongate Kirk's cemetery but when Burns found that out, he commissioned a headstone for him. It was quite a nice one too although I don't seem to have taken a photo of it. Robert Louis Stevenson also paid for its maintenance.

My final photo of Edinburgh, Holyrood Palace. Another reason for my nostalgia on Sunday was that the last time I was in Edinburgh was in 2001 with dh. It was just after 9/11 and we were being put up by a wonderful 82 year old widow while we waited to find out what was happening with flights back to the U.S. When she heard that we hadn't really seen Edinburgh--that we'd just driven in to pick up dd and Sheila a few weeks prior and had promptly left to stay in Aberfeldy--she said "you canna leave Scotland wi'out seeing Edinburgh!" and at 7:30 a.m. the following day rousted us out and onto a bus. She walked us through the Prince Street Gardens, up to the Castle and down the Royal Mile, ending at the Palace. We happened across a memorial service going on in St. Giles Cathedral (I have photos that I took of St. Giles, and of Margaret, on another website.) I'll never forget her kindness and for me I will always think of her when I think of Edinburgh. Unfortunately, I couldn't get in touch with her this time but she was in my heart, as was dh who is financing this :)

With one last look at the Gathering which was winding up anyway, I walked back up to the university, collected all of my growing collection of bags and baggage and hailed a taxi. Off to Waverly train station and off to Cupar, to see where my great grandmother, Annie Young Wighton, was born and where her family lived from at least the mid 1800s up to the 1930s (that I know of).