Visitors Week

It was a week of visiting guests for us here at Churchill House last week. My cousin Dimple and her husband Ed decided to book a last-minute trip to Edinburgh the day before my big exam. Craving for anything familial and familiar, I was excited to meet them Tuesday afternoon even though I had to rush out of work at 4 to view a flat at half 4, then rushed out of that to go to Hollyrood Palace where we decided to meet. I told them to go around the Palace while they waited for me but unfortunately, royalty was also in town which meant that the Palace was closed to visitors until the 25th of June.

To welcome them properly to Edinburgh, I had Ed and Dimple try Haggis, Neeps, and Tatties (translation: Haggis, Turnips, and Mashed Potatoes) at the local pub, the World's End. Haggis is Scotland's version of what we Filipinos call sisig. It's sheep's heart, lung and liver cooked in a pig's stomach for a couple of hours. It sounds gross but like sisig, is actually pretty good. After scarfing down our food, we walked around the city, touring Calton Hill then the Princes Street Gardens. Around 8pm, I rushed back home and crammed for my Acoustics exam the following day.

Scottish Haggis, Neeps, and Tatties

The dreaded Wednesday came, and my exam was actually not that bad. For the first time in years, I took an exam which asked me what I know. I guess I am really miles away from De La Salle. Anyhow, I met with Dimps and Ed that afternoon and we did the Mary King's close dungeon tour which personally, I found disappointing. I have been on other ghost tours before and I enjoyed them more than this one. That night, to celebrate their last night in Edinburgh, I took them to another famous local pub, called The Royal Oak. It was smaller to the pubs I usually go to but this one is famous for its folk music so for the ultimate Scottish experience, I decided to take them there. Every week, a bunch of old Scottish men would sing these folk songs either in acapella or with a guitar and violin in the background. They would encourage us to sing along, muttering the lyrics so we could join in. Even the bartender would play the mandolin if he wasn't busy attending to the customers. I was told that all the people who worked there knew how to play at least one instrument. It was really cool and we found ourselves singing with the old men and having fun.

Inside The Royal Oak Pub

Megan's friend Sarah was also visiting that week. She is a bit quiet but she is an awesome girl and for her last day here, we took her to Portobello beach where we had proper fish and chips facing the sea, because, as my friend Gwen would say, that's the only way to eat fish and chips. True enough, it was the best fish and chips I have ever had since I've been here. Being in Portobello made me all warm inside even though it was about 14 degrees. And even though the weather wasn't perfect, it didn't rain. So I took off my shoes and ran and skipped and dug my toes on the sand like I did back home. I have never been happier in weeks.

My food and my feet

Road Trip : York, United Kingdom (day 1)

I have always enjoyed going on road trips. It gives you an excuse to drive dangerously fast, sing like a rock star, and pig out like there's no tomorrow. Driving is the ultimate form of independence. With your car, your license, and a tank full of gas, you can drive wherever you want, whenever you want. The minute you turn the ignition, you are in control. It is invigorating and relaxing at the same time. I love driving and I miss having that feeling of control and freedom. Back in college, I used to share a Toyota Vios with my sister, Mady and we called her Britney. She was a bright blue car, reliable, and was very fuel efficient. I loved her with all my heart.

So going back to my original story, my friend, Tanya, and I decided long ago that we are going to go on this road trip to York. Because among our fabulous group of friends, we are the only ones who didn't go on holiday for spring break. We thought we too deserve to go somewhere exciting and so Tanya had this brilliant idea that we will drive ourselves down to York to visit our friend Jeff and go to Fountains Abbey, a place she has always wanted to visit but never found the time to. I told her as long as it's going to be a cheap trip, I am all for it. So, she called the car rental company, booked us a car for the weekend, called Jeff, and we're all set!

When Friday finally came, we were off to a great start! (minus my killer hangover from the night before, but that's another story) We arrived in the car company, signed the necessary papers for insurance, and finally saw our car, a beautiful black Peugeot we named Pierre. We got in, I, the chief navigator ready with my directions and maps on the left, and Tanya, the amazing driver on the right. "Woohoo!", we screamed. I was so excited, I was practically jumping out of my seat.

Pierre, our baby

Now like any other road trip, ours had its share of bloopers. Edinburgh, being the charming little Scottish city that it is, is full of road works, closed streets, and blocked entries. And my favorite, small street signs that changed every 50 metres. And to add to that, the directions Tanya printed off the internet were crap as well so of course, we got a little lost trying to figure out how to get out of the city and onto the highway. After a few frustrated sighs and shrieks of omigod omigod, we found ourselves on the A1 highway and enjoying the scenic route towards York, England.

The second part of that adventure came when we reached our exit on A59 en route to York. We called Jeff, who doesn't know how to drive by the way, for directions. "Just exit on A59, go straight until you reach the city wall, then when you go inside, turn left." Okay, seems easy enough. But after about 10 miles, we didn't see a freakin wall. So I asked, "Jeff, is the city wall a proper wall?". "Yes", he replied. Right. So after long debates of what a city wall looks like, I called Jeff again and told him that we are not hanging up until we see his face. About 5.15pm, we finally reached his doorstep.

York's City Walls

After the "mandatory rest period" of 1 hour, Tanya and I explored the city and went on a ghost tour, which actually ended up being a comedy tour. Oh I loved our guide, I called him, Mr. Fancy Pants. He was fabulous. He took us around several spots in the city while trying to scare us with his ghost stories. But he did it in a sarcastic tone and he made fun of some of the people in the group so we ended up laughing instead of being creeped out and scared. He even convinced us to line up across an Italian restaurant, wave at the customers, and when we got their attention (some of them even waved back!), we all shuffled in front of the restaurant's windows and at the count of three, we made faces with our tongues sticking out at the customers, "Bleeeeeeeh!". It was the silliest thing I have ever done in my entire life and I loved it! After the ghost tour ended, Tanya and I decided to get pizza and ended up eating at the same restaurant we made fools of ourselves. This was proving to be a really fun trip and we are only at day one.

Me and Tanya exploring the city wall

Mr. Fancy Pants

Oh Holy Week...

It's Easter Sunday today and although I have plans to cook dinner with a few friends tonight, I can't help but feel homesick. In my family, Holy week comes second to Christmas for the most important holiday to look forward to during the year. While other Catholics fast, reflect and pray during this time, my family likes to go to some remote beach paradise so we can bake in the sun and drink the night away while singing cheesy telenovela-inspired love songs with the karaoke machine.

This is not my first time to miss one of our annual island get-aways but I suppose being in a non-religious country during the event that practically inspired my faith just didn't feel right to me. And since being in this God forsaken country means never having to enjoy a warm day at the beach anyway, I decided to do a religious practice that I have not done in years. I messaged my Maltese friend Julienne and convinced her to do the Bisita Iglesia (7 visits to churches) with me on Good Friday. Julienne, who is also a Catholic, tells me that they do the same thing in Malta and since she was homesick as well, she said yes to my brilliant plan. The only problem is, can we find 7 Catholic churches in Edinburgh? With the power of Google earth, I had a list of 9 potential Catholic churches within minutes. But then, I found out that 3 of these churches are so far we would need to take a bus in order to go there. We don't have the time or money to do that. So, Julienne and I decided to just walk around in the hopes that maybe, we might just discover a "secret" church while going to the other 6.

And so began our mission to go to 7 churches around the city. We braved the Scottish wind, encountered homeless weirdos, tripped over the cobblestoned streets, and endured starvation (okay, LIE, Julienne was the only one who fasted, I couldn't last 5 hours of walking without food). The point is, we were the only idiots in the entire city who seemed to be doing the bisita iglesia. And that made me sad. There was even one church that was closed! On Good Friday! And they call themselves Catholic. Tsktsktsk. It was actually funny because we ended up praying outside the church door, using its cross carving as the well, altar cross and we couldn't stop laughing. We counted that church anyway.

Around 5 o'clock, we have already visited 5 churches and just needed 2 more. But it was too late to go anywhere else and the bus times have been changed due to the road works around the city. We decided to cheat and had tea at Starbucks instead. It was the best damn tea ever. Around 7pm now fully recharged, we walked to St. Mary's Cathedral where we joined the congregation for the Stations of the Cross completing our Bisita Iglesia. Well, minus one.

Dancing Queen

I love to dance. Those who know me pretty well know this fact. Unfortunately though, I am not blessed with this talent and so secretly, I have always wanted to take dance classes. Jazz, salsa, samba, hiphop, even ceilidh dancing! Back home, dance classes were too expensive or they were held in really posh places or I was too shy. I don't know which excuse I used but I always had one whenever I would think about enrolling into a class.

Last term, I decided to be cool and so I took up ceilidh dancing. It was by far the most Scottish thing that I did since I came here. Every Thursday, I would walk to St. Peter's Church, which was about a 15min walk from my residence, and dance for an hour with locals and other eager beaver foreigners. I learned how to do the Virginia Reel, the Flying Scotsman, and my all time favorite, the Belgian dance. It was so much fun to twirl and spin and to skip and hop with strangers but my favorite dance partner is my flatmate Megan. Because let's be honest, most white people can't dance. But you didn't hear that from me. And then I got tired of ceilidh dancing. Well not really, I am usually busy Thursday nights because most of my submissions are on a Friday morning so I haven't been to ceilidh class in a month. But since I have been eating so much lately, I decided to do be more active. I don't walk around the city as much as I'd like to because it's just so damn cold all the time and that's why I end up stuffing my face with whatever I can find.

Yesterday after class, I went to the university gym with my friend Quianna. We attended the hiphop dance class which was being taught by this short hairy white guy who I think is from Aberdeen 'cause he keeps saying "Yeah?" all the time but Quianna thinks he is Spanish. And what was so funny was that Quianna was the only Black person in that entire class. There were a couple of Asians there but mostly Europeans and Americans. Majority of the class were women too. And I reiterate... Most white people can't dance. So for an hour, we were busting our moves to Rihanna, Neyo, JT, Mario, and Beyonce. You gotta love the British, they are so behind the times when it comes to music. Anyway, the dance routine was actually pretty easy so we didn't have any trouble learning it. And except for his high pitched whistle, I really liked the instructor. I had to laugh though when we were doing the "chest bump" because as you know, I am not really gifted in that department either.

I just love the fact that this city has given me the chance to do the things I have always wanted to do. Again, Edinburgh has given me one more reason to love it even more.


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On a totally unrelated note, my sister Hannah has given birth to a beautiful baby boy yesterday. :) I can't wait to see the little guy!

Calton Hill Climb

I have always wanted to climb Calton Hill since I got here. Before coming to Edinburgh, I would google for images of the city out of curiousity and these beautiful pictures taken on the hill would come up. One of those photos is the one I am using for my header (see top of page). I have never gotten around to climbing it last term because it was always dark and dreary and quite depressing. This morning, my two friends, Stephanie and Dave, and I decided to walk up to Calton hill at 10 in the morning. It was quite a challenge getting out of bed but after reaching the top, I must say the view was worth getting up for.

The hill is located at the center of New Town and overlooks Hollyrood Palace on one side, and gives you a magnificent view of the sea and Inchkeith Island (which I also plan to visit), on the other. The hill also includes several iconic monuments and buildings: the National Monument, the Nelson's Monument, the Dugald Stewart Monument, the New Parliament House and the City Observatory.

This is a photo of the National Monument in the middle of the grounds.

This is the view of Arthur's Seat from the hill. Arthur's Seat is a dead volcano in the middle of Hollyrood Park and is the main peak of the city. It is quite popular to walk there since it gives amazing panoramic views of the city and it is an easy climb as well.

Portuguese Filipinos

Alex, my Portuguese flatmate, always insisted on calling me a "Philippinian". Last term, we would have endless debates about how people from the Philippines ought to be called. He told me that he couldn't call me a Filipino because they were biscuits in his country. Now, Alex can be a pain in the arse sometimes and he loves teasing me in the kitchen with my mad cooking skills (i.e me cutting myself with the butter knife and burning myself with the damn faucet all the time). So naturally, I expected the Filipino biscuits to be one of his stupid antics to get me annoyed. But when he knocked on my door a few days ago, back from his holiday in Portugal, he thrusted the pack of Filipinos in my face. Omigod, he really wasn't kidding! I just had to laugh.



Alex: See Ida, I told you and you didn't believe me. We eat Filipinos for breakfast.
Ida: Oh shut up, Alex.