Our first morning in Edinburgh began with a walking tour of the Old Town. One of the stops was this pub/cafe, which (according to the guide) was where J. K. Rowling wrote Harry Potter. That my indeed be true, but it seems that every tourist site in the UK claims a J. K. Rowling connection. She apparently found inspiration for that book in every little corner of England and Scotland. There are more J. K. Rowling sites than there were "fragments of the true cross" in the medieval period.
While walking through a graveyard on the "Harry Potter / Edinburgh" tour, I saw this plaque.
Macabre.
And speaking of macabre, this was the site of several religious martyrdoms.
I don't know who this is, but early in the morning the sun was reflecting off the shop windows behind me and added an interesting lighting effect. That's Edinburgh Castle in the background.
The Castle without a funkily-lit statue in front of it. I really felt the genetic memory here in Edinburgh, as the DNA of all my Scottish ancestors started bubbling over with recognition and a sense of belonging. It felt familiar to me, and I didn't want to leave Edinburgh.
Princes St. in Edinburgh. It's just another high street, but for H's family it has special poignancy. She can tell you the story some time.
Looking down the Royal Mile, with St. Giles church on the right. Far in the distance is the North Sea.
The forecourt of the Castle. This is where the famous military tattoo takes place.
The fam, kicking back on some volcanic rock at Edinburgh Castle. You can see our audio guides around our necks. The girls consider an audio guide as the best possible treat. Not candy, not dolls, not ice cream--but knowledge! Couldn't be prouder of them.
One of the many canons at the Castle.
And some of Old Town.
At the Castle, looking over New Town to the Firth of Forth.
Somewhere on one of those mounds in the distance is Arthur's Seat. A few of our group made the trek out there. We didn't.
We went to a tartan-weaving mill instead.
No trip to Edinburgh would be complete without a bagpiper. I think this guy knew that--he was making a killing from the tourists.
And that included us. For a couple of coins in his bagpipe case, E was invited to have her photo taken with him. C, of course, stayed back.
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