ON MY WAY TO EDINBURGH

I left Madrid on the afternoon of the 18th of August. It was hot, and I was wearing jeans, polar fleece and mountain walking shoes. And not a single cloud in the sky. So I was hot and cranky, and listening to the taxi driver intending on meeting upon my return to Madrid (I wondered if he had ever looked at himself in the mirror, but he wasn´t an Adonis) wasn´t helping.

It did help that there wasn´t almost a queue to check the luggage, but when I was ordered by security to take out the shoes ... specially given that a whole group of "borrokas" had been allowed to get through with the heavy boots on ... And then there wasn´t a single ATM in the T1, and there were works, and the cafeteria at our gate was closed down. We boarded on time, but had to wait because 5 passengers hadn´t arrived and they had to take out their luggage.

I had paid for "Speedy Boarding", and it was nice to be able to board in the first group.

The flight was uneventful, and the luggage came out pretty quick.

I took the Gatwick Express into Victoria, and then headed out to my place for the night, Cartref House. I was soaking wet by the time I arrived there, and it is nearby. I had a flight to Edinburgh at 10:00, so I decided that I wanted someplace near Victoria and not too expensive. It was a recommendation from an american "web acquaintance". I should have known than one of those misty-eyed americans recommends you a place because it is quaint ... unless you know them pretty well, it means small rooms, nosy neighbours in the breakfast room and bathroom down the hall. My room was en-suite, but it was absolutely tiny, the bed was way too soft (what´s with anglos and soft beds?, I want a hard one), and the bathroom was really small and carpeted. Anyway, it wasn´t too expensive, but I don´t think I would recommend it for a long stay. I hope my american friends will understand me, because I know they have been victims of the same kind of well-meaning recommendation.

On Sunday morning I headed out to LGW for my flight to Edinburgh. The only memorable things are the awfully bad capuccino I was served, and the amazingly glamorous Tom Ford sunglasses I didn´t buy. Ah, and landing in Edinburgh looking upon the Firth of Forth.

Getting the bus into town was easy, and in less than half an hour I was dragging my suitcase across Princes Street and down Dublin Str towards my hostel for those two nights.

It wasn´t difficult to find, but by then I had realized that Edinburgh has been built upon hills ... and I was going to end up quite tired by the end of my stay.

The hostel was a small place, very easy-going, similar to the independent hostels I remembered from Ireland. I was in a small room with 8 bunk-beds (female-only), there was a lounge with a computer and where breakfast was available in the morning. It was in the basement of a georgian house, just around the corner from the Scottish National Portrait Gallery.

I left the suitcase, and headed out to the gallery ( "The Naked Portrait" exhibition was on ), and afterwards I went to pick up my tickets and get trapped by the amazing and incredible thing that are the Edinburgh Festival and the Fringe. There were moments when I almost couldn´t breath. It was so absolutely exhilarating ...