Edinburgh, My New Love

All concerns about the train booking mix up were dispelled as soon as we pulled into the Edinburgh train station.  This was the European city I had been dreaming about when planning out the trip and we were going to do it right.   Forgoing the expensive cabs, we managed to find and take the correct bus, thanks to the friendly bus drivers of lines 9, 38 and 37 and arrived out our B&B in the pitch dark just before 5pm. 

Our only plans for our two night stay were the dinner reservations we had for that night at The Honours compliments of Martin’s friends as a wedding present.  With the reservations not until 8, we took the opportunity to wander around Prince Street and take in our first few moments of Scotland.

Perfectly situated, our hotel was only a short walk to the city center and along the way we passed a really cute restaurant that looked delicious.  We stopped to check out the menu for dinner the next night only to realize we were in fact eating there that night (it was The Honours!...Martin’s friends did real good).    After a stroll through the pedestrian streets, we sat down at the restaurant bar for a pre-dinner drink before getting seated for the main affair.  Dinner, enjoyed shortly thereafter was fantastic, with a beautiful cut of steak, creamed spinach, yummy salad, artichoke risotto (not too crunchy) and onion rings and duck fat potatoes as sides.  Completely full, we made our way back to the hotel for a sound night’s sleep.

The next morning, we started the day off right with a full English breakfast and some serious sightseeing which took us through the rest of the day.   We saw and did it all!  We went up to the castle, past the church, down through Grass Market (where I bought a cute painting at the fantastic Red Door Gallery and we perused the vintage clothing at Armstrongs), over to Arthur’s Seat (where we made it only halfway up, thanks in part to my city boots and cute white jacket I didn’t want to muddy) and finally back to Prince Street for the final hot lap. 

With dark approaching around 4pm, we grabbed our books from the hotel and headed to the local Stockbridge Pub for an afternoon of beers and reading on the couch by the fire…it could have been home….except it was a bar, which is way better….  America needs more pubs!  The pub we were at lacked a full kitchen so we headed next door to another pub for dinner.    Dinner turned into Pub Trivia, where we competed against 17 other teams and came in 15…I call it a win.  We did learn a few interesting fun facts in the process including: the names of the two most recent popes, who the CEO of Motorola called on the first cell phone call (his rival of course) and the color of the world’s most expensive diamond (pink, go figure). 

The night, and ultimately our stay in Edinburgh ended with rain, so we were not too disappointed when we left the following morning for the country side of Inverness and the Hogmanay celebrations.  And true to most European cities, I left completely in love…Edinburgh is a fantastic, more manageable London, with all of the great restaurants, fun bars and nice people without  the effort to get across town. 

All I Wanted Was a Nice European Vacation

I have a vivid memory from living in Zurich, not of an event, but rather a lifestyle of traveling in Europe…Where traveling meant you took the train (either from the airport or straight from home) to the historic center of some old city where you could explore the new town, find a new bar, enjoy a new restaurant and take in the overall experience of a new place and culture.  Our recent trips to Europe have involved staying at Martin’s parent’s house in the countryside of Germany or driving to the Alps. And while amazing, it was not satisfying the craving…This trip to Europe, I traded the 7am flight from London to Germany, for  5 nights in Scotland for New Years.  What I got, was what I had envisioned, but with just a few road bumps along the way:

• While we were able to save money thanks to a free hotel in London, we ended up spending the same amount, if not more, on cabs to and from said hotel
• Two days before we left on the trip, I realized we had forgotten to reserve transportation for two legs of our journey (to Inverness and to Aberdeen).  And due to the last minute reservations and the holidays, we ended up paying double the normal fares and having to take a bus on one leg…the bus ticket was so expensive the driver shockingly asked us where we were headed for that amount 
•  On the train into London on our way to Edinburgh we realized that we had bought our tickets for November 28, not December 28…Thankfully tickets were still available for a train that day (since we had dinner reservations that night)…unfortunately they were over double what we had originally paid or approximately $400.  A flight was only slightly less expensive and driving was out of the question – it would have taken 10 hours.  So we bit the bullet and put another drop in the bucket. 
•  After originally booking our flight back to London from Aberdeen, we made the decision to stay in Inverness.  We did not think to change our flight to be out of Inverness, resulting in the 5 hour bus ride.     
•  And our final flight back to the US went through Washington DC and due to a plane change was delayed 1.5 hours…thanks to Storm Hercules, it was delayed an additional 2 hours once we had boarded the plane making our trek home from Scotland over 30 hours all in.

A Very German Christmas

This year, marked the first year I spent Christmas away from my family.  And in this absence, I was able to better see and appreciate both my family’s and Martin’s family traditions, as contrasting as they may be.

My family’s traditions are best described as loving chaos.  On Christmas Eve (or this year, the pre-Christmas Eve dinner we had before we left), the house was filled with people, noise and laughter.   Before dinner Blake was riding his new wooden tricycle throughout the hallways, Cassidy was chasing down the two new kittens, my brother, mom and I were in the kitchen making raviolis while Granny supervised and my Dad “tested” the crab to make sure it was still good.  All of the guests were in and out of the kitchen grabbing drinks, making eggnog, sampling the appetizers and catching up on the past year.  

After the call to dinner and once everyone found a place, we enjoyed one quick moment of quiet while Grandpa said grace (unfortunately without the cousins there giggling under their breaths above clasped hands) before digging into the various bowls of ravioli, crab, salad and bread placed in front of us.    And true to tradition, the dinner didn’t end until the last individual called it quits and the quantities of crab eaten were compared.  After dinner, the heat from the fire that my Dad ensures is made every year regardless of the weather, was so powerful that the front door was opened and people were thankful for wearing layers.   This year, the night ended with Blake standing on his chair eating his ice cream dessert sometimes with his spoon, sometimes with his hands, but always without his pants on.  Overall, the event is marked by the noise and craziness that is filled with love and goodwill.

And just as Martin and I differ from almost every angle of life in appearance while our core values remain the same, I found that Christmas was no exception.  Martin’s family traditions are best described as refined joy.   The celebrations began Christmas Eve, with the family getting properly dressed (suits, ties and dresses) for coffee, cake and church.  Church, complete with choir, band, standing room only and the pastor who married us, was followed by a glass of champagne by the Christmas Tree at the Breuer house.  Dinner, at promptly 8pm, was a beautiful plated affair of beef stew in a star pastry puff complimented with wine and beer.  

Presents were opened that night following the Breuer family rules of having to roll a certain dice number in order to open a present…a great tradition that makes the event last longer and feel more special…unless you happen to never roll the lucky number and everyone ends up waiting on you at the very end to open all of your presents, which is what happened to me.  The night ended after plenty of beers and wine at 1am only shortly after Oma headed down to her apartment.   

Christmas Day and Second Christmas (our Boxing Day) were equally as nice, elegant and well-planned, with coffee and cakes around 3pm each day, dinners with friends and family around 8pm and plenty of beer and wine throughout.

Bundled Up

While booking our trip to Germany, Martin somehow convinced me that the 7am flight out of London to Dortmund was the best option…It was in fact the only option that allowed us to make the annual mackerel smoking party his friends were having Monday night to smoke the fish Martin and said friends had caught in Norway.   Don’t mind the minor details like the fish that we were to smoke weren’t actually the ones caught (those had to be thrown away after an unfortunate issue with the freezer) or the fact that two of the three fishermen actually don’t eat fish…it was a party, with beer and friends, and we were going to be there.  

Getting there, provided to be a slight challenge.  With the late night in London the night before, followed by the early flight, a completely packed airport at 6am, a completely full flight at 7am and my overpacking and additional bags, I was close to a minor breakdown…you may call it a hangover, I called it stress; I was moments away from losing my contents during the flight.  Once landed, the fun only continued with an “issue“ at customs thanks to Martin’s importing of computer software.  So by the time we got to Martin’s parents house, I had to excuse myself to lay down to gather my nerves and get ready for the smoking.

Last year, the fish were smoked over Easter weekend to allow Martin and me to partake in the festivities.  Back then, I was completely ill-prepared for the experience…With snow on the ground and a cold beer in hand, I was frozen through to the core.  I had not dressed warmly enough for the five hour party held outside during a snow storm.  And my only relief from partial hypothermia was the quick trips inside to use the bathroom. 

This year, I was not going to make the same mistake.  While the weather was forecasted to be in the low 50s, I was still prepared for the storm and was ready to suit up for war (or warmth, either way).  Tights under the jeans, warm wool socks, long johns under a sweatshirt wrapped with a scarf and topped with my big winter jacket. I was mentally and physically prepared.   Or so I thought.  After one hour of fun I was once again cold, granted not freezing like last time, but definitely not comfortable.  Meanwhile everyone else looked fairly content to stand outside all night…everyone except maybe Martin who apparently has gotten a little too used to CA weather. 

Knowing when to throw in the towel, I left early with Martin’s parents and left the hubby there to have his proper manly catch up.

A German, An American and a North Irishman Walk Into a Bar

With our trip to Germany for Christmas a given, I petitioned and lobbied for a stopover in London on our way there to get my city fix and to see a few friends.  The last time Martin and I were in London together was five years ago and it ended with me in tears over our then upcoming trip to meet his parents for Easter and the stress about how we were going to make our long distance relationship work.  Funny how just a few years changes things.

Martin and I landed in Heathrow just before noon, took a cab to our hotel and were back out the door after showers and a consultation of the city map.  We then took the short walk from our hotel (located in seemingly the middle of nowhere and booked using points) to Hampstead for lunch, shopping and a walk down memory lane (it was Martin’s old stomping grounds after all).    And from there we took the bus to Camden Markets where I had such fond memories from our first trip of shopping the boutique stalls and taking in the atmosphere.  Unfortunately the experience without the rose colored/champagne filled glasses was less romantic and more trashy than I remembered.  The place had lost its shine and reminded me more of Chinatown and Fisherman’s Wharf than the cool London experience I previously cherished.  Time, experience and maturity will apparently do that to you.

Thankfully we were saved by Martin’s old friend John who met us for drinks and dinner.  Knowing we had a 7am flight the next morning, we opted for an early Sunday Roast at The Albion, a local pub just down the street from St. Paul’s Cathedral and next to Blackfriars Bridge.   And while we started early, we did not end early.  Pre dinner drinks rolled into muled wine, then into a full bottle of wine and on to after-dinner beers.  Like the alcohol, the stories of the past and present were flowing too easily and the moment was too perfect to cut short.  By 10:30, John thankfully pulled the plug and called it a night on our behalf. 

We took a cab back to the hotel and another cab to the airport the following morning at 4:30.  And while we spent more on cabs that trip (to maximize our time) than on our single hotel room, it was absolutely worth the detour.