After gypsy jazz the night before in Paris, it was a bit of a challenge to get to Charles de Gaulle airport by 8:00am on a Wednesday morning in late September. Air France is not my favorite airline, but they got us to Auld Reekie (Old Smoky, Edinburgh’s nickname from the days when peat and coal fires filled the air with fumes) without incident.

In the taxi queue at Edinburgh airport, one of the older fellows was slightly smirking at how much luggage we had along with my scooter, causing us to need a van instead of a smaller cab. I called out to him, “We’re Americans, so we have to move to Scotland now; you know how it’s going over there.” He laughed and we bantered a bit. The Scots have a great temperament in my experience, almost always a quick wit, much like the Irish, if we can stereotype.

We checked into the Radisson Blu hotel on the High Street, around the middle of the Royal Mile, the road that leads from Edinburgh Castle to Holyrood Castle (the English Royals’ home in Edinburgh). It’s a really convenient location, lots to see nearby and good cafes and restaurants within walking distance. They also have a superb indoor pool, and fairly decent food at their Itchy Koo restaurant despite the limited menu. As I recall, room service screwed up our breakfast orders frequently, but they made it right each time.

Our dear friends, Mark and Lorraine Stanton, drove up from the London area and we met them for lunch at the Edinburgh Larder around the corner from our hotel, which was an excellent meal, although they aren’t too chuffed about substitutions and are a bit strict about the time of reservations, and they’re only open for breakfast and lunch. When you’re good enough, you get to be in charge of your customers. Then the four of us spent the afternoon just catching up on family and goings on, followed by dressing up a bit to have dinner at Angels with Bagpipes, our favorite dinner venue in Edinburgh. (The photo is the restaurant’s angel with bagpipe sculpture.)

We took advantage of Mark and Lorraine’s Tesla and drove to the Royal Botanic Garden the next day, which for those of us in the group who are gardeners (read: not Richard, and not as much Mark as the other two of us) was a delight. Lots of varieties of plants, of course, though we probably saw only about a third of the gardens. There’s a whole section devoted to university student gardeners and there’s also the Queen Mother’s rose garden… so many environments to enjoy. We followed this with tea in their large cafeteria, which had a fabulous artistic ceiling. Lorraine bought some unusual bulbs for her garden in their extensive gift shop.

That evening we dined at a little restaurant in the French embassy, just up the Royal Mile a ways, Le Bistrot. Another fabulous meal. The Scots and the French have a centuries-old relationship, and some decades ago they sent many of their chefs to France to learn to cook, since Scotland is so dependent upon tourism. So whatever you may have heard about Scottish food being bland is probably wrong unless you choose the odd restaurant we haven’t experienced. And haggis can be particularly good when spiced correctly, especially served as an appetizer. Plain… well, it deserves that unsavory reputation.

We were sad to say goodbye to the Stanton’s, who were so generous to make the two-day drive each direction. We don’t see them often enough, with that big pond in between us. But on the Saturday we rented a car and drove north a ways up through Perth to see another old friend, Anne Butler, who took a bus down from Inverness and met us at Port na Craig lodge on the side of a river in Pitlochry, a charming town. We had a scant two or three hours together over another good lunch, and an emotional farewell since we don’t knows when we’ll be back in Scotland again. The expression there is “Haste ye back, for we love ye so,” and we feel that.

The scenery was beautiful on the drive up and back, the lower part of the Scottish Highlands. If you ever get to Scotland, be sure to go as far north as you are able; take a train up from Edinburgh or Glasgow unless you love to drive, and visit the awe-inspiring vistas of the upper Highlands. We didn’t make it up there this time, but we’ve been several times in the past, and the vibrant green hills, the cliffs, crags, waterfalls, lakes, and vast pale skies speak to some deep part of my soul. I always feel at home there… at least in the summer when the weather is tolerable!

That evening we dropped by Sandy Bell’s pub for some traditional Scottish music, were lucky to nab a parking place close by, and arrived just as there was a change in musicians, so we popped across the street to Mum’s Comfort Food for dinner. It was so-so, but if you’re hankering for something simple it’s acceptable and the atmosphere is friendly as is the help. Then back across the street for some “craic” (music and conversation and an enjoyable time) at Sandy Bell’s. It’s the best place in Edinburgh to catch traditional music played by locals, and sometimes famous musicians. We had a wee dram of Glenfarclas single malt and sat and talked with a couple of American women, one of whom is preparing to move to Scotland, and the other who wishes she could. Politics come up in conversation as soon as anyone who speaks fluent English knows you’re from the states, and the prevailing opinion is that our current president is off the deep end, whether from another American, a Scot or an English person. The best we heard while we were there was “I was hoping he’d be a nice man.” Anyway, the music was exceptionally good and so was the company.

Next installment: We go for a “dauner” on Sunday.