EDINBURGH IN THE MOONLIGHT

 

A series of essays....

HANGING OUT ON FREDERICK STREET—IN OUR PAJAMAS—
UNDER A CRESCENT MOON.

 

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

The story takes me back to a wind blown store front somewhere along Frederick Street, New Town, Edinburgh, Scotland. The time was shortly after midnight. Even though it appeared that a slight drizzle might threaten us, a sliver of moon was visible between wispy clouds as several vehicles, their lights strobed across the store fronts, pulled up in front of the hotel. I remember as if it were just last week; the four of us huddled together on the front steps of the Eteaket Tea Room located across the street from our home for two nights, the Frederick House Hotel. 

We kept blinking in order to keep our eyes open and be able to take everything in. Wrapping our jackets tighter around our pajama-clad bodies, we speculated as to which area of the hotel might be burning. We hadn’t smelled any smoke on our recent journey down the open stairwell. Stretching our necks up towards the front windows of the top floor, we located our rooms still glowing from the lights, hastily turned on, and shining like two beacons over the Edinburgh nightscape .

“Man, I’d finally fallen asleep when the alarm started blaring.” Caught between jet lag and an adrenaline rush, Dan’s face said it all. Actually, all of our faces did. 

“Maybe we’re still dreaming,” Marsha contributed. “I would never wear this outfit out on a cold, late September night at home!” she grinned while looking around at our faces and flimsy clothing being continuously splashed blue in the bright wash of lights from the Scottish Fire And Rescue Service vehicles lined up across the street.

The large group of young, French students sharing the hotel with us massed together along the sidewalk in a football huddle formation attempting to keep warm. Other guests chose to stand curbside and take quick snaps of the procedures taken to secure the building and right what was wrong. And, finally, after nearly thirty, teeth-chattering minutes, our hotel manager stood before us with the news that all was clear. “This has happened before when a basement switch malfunctions and sends notice to emergency services of a potential problem. We apologize profusely and want you to know that you will be able to sleep comfortably and safely now. We are very, very sorry for this inconvenience.” Did an apology sound better in a Scottish accent?

As all of the weary guests, most of us clutching purses or satchels containing our passports and cash, made their way back across the street, the boys of the Scottish Fire And Rescue Service were wrapping things up and exchanging some final words with our hotel manager. 

We climbed the stairs with the hope that slinking back under the warm covers would make everything better.

Reflecting back on the arduous day we had just had beginning with the long, night flight out of Detroit and landing at Edinburgh Airport, mid-morning UK time, jet lag seemed to be our greatest concern. The bus driver taking us into the city passed a block away from our hotel but held on to his original destination along North Bridge Street and nearly three quarters of a mile from Frederick House Hotel. At least we got the ‘lay of the land’ perched above the crowd as we were. So, backtracking and pulling our numerous pieces of luggage along behind us, we rolled along Princess Street in the shadow of Edinburgh Castle and along the edge of Princess Street Gardens until we found Frederick Street, once again. 

Our pre-arranged accommodations were clean and cozy and the soft, comfortable bed with its crisp, white linen enticed our weary minds and bodies. Being up on the top floor of our hotel gave us the advantage of a glorious view of the city all the way across the bay to the north and out to the North Sea. Bonus!

Realizing that attending to our need for nourishment rose even higher in importance than our need for sleep, Michael, having gone back down to speak with the concierge, was told about the best place to look for a satisfying, local meal within walking distance. “She said to backtrack towards Princess Street and when we come to Rose Street, take either a right or left. There are plenty of shops and restaurants either way,” Michael explained.

We hung a right on Rose Street which turned out to be a quaint, pedestrian alley lined with small shops and enticing restaurants. With amazing aromas wafting all around, we decided to step inside a restaurant/pub filled with an abundance of laughter and bright, rosy faces. The establishment looked like a nice mix of tourists along with locals out for a pint and a bite before heading home. Some were already lifting cream-topped pints of Guinness while others waited for theirs to ‘settle’ nicely while resting on the two-tiered drain near the taps along the top of the bar. 

“I don’t know about everyone else, but I would like, no—I need a Guinness and an order of fish-n-chips!” I cheerfully exclaimed, after the bartender seated us in a cozy booth adjacent to the bar with the promise to return, shortly. Our first meal in Edinburgh was not disappointing and set the stage for many delightful meals to come during our week long exploration of Scotland. (I still dream about the risotto I thoroughly enjoyed in a small restaurant outside of Stirling Castle.)

Walking back up Rose Street and getting closer to our ill-fated destiny and midnight rendezvous on the front stoop of a tea room, shivering and wondering where the hotel fire might be, we decided to forgo further exploration and get the much needed sleep we required. “Good night, good night, good night, John Boy,” we recited from our respective doorways. “See you downstairs for breakfast around eight?” we inquired. With that, a good night’s sleep was all we asked for. After all, climbing up to Edinburgh Castle and trekking along High Street and the Royal Mile the next day would take stamina and clear minds.

It was a good plan until the fire alarm interrupted the entire building with its shrill, staccato screams meant to awaken every soul in the building. Success!

Now that the dust had settled from our bone chilling experience outside, we realized that we’d be talking about this unsettling ordeal for years to come; hopefully, in a much more jovial and lighthearted way. Finally, we snuggled back into bed to sleep the remainder of the night away; visions of sugar plums and old castles drifting in and out of our dreams.

In a more perfect world, this would be the case. However, our introduction to Edinburgh, Scotland had a completely different plan in mind for four weary travelers from Michigan, USA! As if still in the fog-like snare of loud alarms and multitudes of feet tramping down open stairwells, it was difficult to shake dream state from reality when sirens assaulted us for the second time!! Checking the time, just after three o’clock, we found ourselves in a true ‘Groundhog Day’ scenario a few hours later.

“Okay, we can do this. We can put on more clothes than last time because we know the drill,” I, almost too casually, said to my husband who was swiftly slipping on jeans, socks, and a warm sweater. I truly admired him right at that moment. “This is crazy, I know, but what can we do?” Dan said. “Let’s make sure Michael and Marsha are ready to go back out into the street for round #2.”

ROUND NUMBER TWO ~ 
SCOTTISH FIRE BRIGADE

I was feeling extremely sorry for anyone who might have taken sleep enhancing medication before going to bed that night. What a daunting experience this would have been for them. Then again, taking some form of drugs seemed very appropriate this time around. Same scenario; same place of refuge; same throbbing blue lights, same duty shift for the boys of the Scottish Fire And Rescue Service; same malfunctioning switch in the basement; same (similar) amount of time out in the frigid, early morning temps; and same shame-faced manager fearing that everyone would ask for monetary compensation after all was said and done. We didn’t go there.

The same moon (only shifted a bit in the night sky) stared down at us as though the Cheshire Cat was mischievously flashing his huge grin. What a welcome we had been given by mysterious Scotland during our first night there. Did we pass your test given to first-timers? Actually, that’s all the four of us ever really wanted to know.

Stay safe. Stay strong. Wear your mask and we’ll get through this.

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

Photos Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved 

ADRENALINE VERSUS JET LAG

 

 A series of short stories.....





Young Friend Overlooking 'Terrace' Built for King Louis XIV With
Eiffel Tower in the Background.......

.....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E. Hughes

"Damn, not again!"  Picking myself up from the middle of a French street and proceeding to pick cinders and pebbles from my knees appeared to be the 'norm' so far this visit.....and it was exasperating if not terribly embarrassing! 

"Are you okay?" asked my husband.  "We've got to stop meeting like this in the middle of the road....people will think I'm either a hero or, I have malicious intentions towards you!" 


Cazaudehore La Forestiere
Our Beautiful Boutique Hotel

Can We Sleep Now?

Quite early that same morning our plane flew into the Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport where we picked-up our cute, green rental car and proceeded to navigate the northern suburbs of Paris before swooping down into our destination for the night in the town of Saint-Germain-en-Laye.  Nestled in among the sweeping curves of the River Seine twenty minutes to the west of Paris and positioned within the heart of a forest of hundred-year-old oak trees and picturesque gardens, our beautiful boutique hotel, Cazaudehore La Forestiere, part of the Relais & Chateaux hotel experience, epitomized the true 'art of living' and hospitality! 

Parking the car across the Avenue du President Kennedy before checking-in, my poor knees experienced their initial encounter with the road's lethal surface as we were greeting a gentleman coming across from the opposite side of the road.  "Bonjour......." and, I was down for the count. Of course, I totally blamed my fall on the cement curb, semi-hidden by sprigs of grass.  I knew better.  With a few minor abrasions I gingerly dabbed with a tissue after clearing the debris that clung to each knee, we marched-on and entered the hotel, our 'magical escape to somewhere else,' for the night.

Dining Room at Cazaudehore
La Forestiere

Due to the excellent caliber of cooking linked with the pride that the French employ when serving others their delicious cuisine, we had pre-booked 'une table pour deux' at the second seating time, ten o'clock.  The chef usually reserves two seating times per evening dinner so that he or she is better able to 'create' their menu items for a more reasonable and structured amount of guests, thus making the dining experience more pleasurable for all.  We chose ten over seven o'clock for dîner because we planned on visiting the Grand Palace of Versailles for several hours that afternoon.  I know.  I can hear all of you worldly travelers out there asking, "What were they thinking?"

Enjoying Our Balcony

Needless to say, our room was stunning.  A small balcony complimented the scenery we enjoyed from every window in the room.  Stepping out onto it, we were lovingly enfolded by the deep green foliage of the forest, tempted by the sweet sweet smells of the variegated colored flowers and mesmerized by the soft, sensual breezes that brushed our skin and teased the senses.  Oh, what a beautiful dream!  However, we weren't dreaming and knew that the Hall of Mirrors, intricate gardens designed by André Le Nôtre and the Chateaux de Versailles itself, a few kilometers to the south, awaited our arrival....

                 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting on a small wrought-iron bench and nursing my new wounds along the Avenue de Paris, the famous statues that line the Place d'Armes, defining the walk up to the palace doors, were in sight.  (And, within reach, provided I could remain upright long enough!).  By the time we made it to the equestrian statue of Louis XIV, my adrenaline had kicked-in sending me into overdrive and I was ready to take-on the world!


Equestrian Statue of Louis XIV

View From Bench As I Nursed My Wounds.....

Dan Entering The Hall of Mirrors

Several hours and a million people later, we felt as though Louis XIV and Marie Antoinette were old friends, having navigated their grand private apartments and famous 'gilded meeting hall' with the priceless view of the rich, elaborate palace gardens to be seen from multiple gold-framed windows.  Opulence of this magnitude is powerful and has a way of literally taking one's breath away!  Even though we had to share this amazing experience that afternoon with many, many others....we would not have missed it for the world and vowed to return in the future.


Opulent Gardens of Palace of Versailles


Many years ago, my Mother helped me answer a particular ad in a magazine that asked the question, "Which historical and present day figure would you be...based upon a photo of yourself?"  Supposedly, this ad was sanctioned by The Hollywood Performing Arts Group and a series of people representing the renowned movie producer, Alfred Hitchcock.  ( I believe that, secretly, my Mother wanted to move back to sunny California and represent me in my new dramatic career.  Anything to avoid another northern Indiana winter!!!).

Anyone Remember Dino the Dinosaur?

Several weeks and a series of 'nail bitings' later, an actual letter from California arrived in our mailbox addressed to me!  Carefully slitting the envelope open in order to preserve it and its contents, I found my picture staring back at me and now flanked by someone else's......, 'Marie Antoinette' was the caption beneath her portrait.  The letter stated that, "Mr. Hitchcock has determined that you are a Haley Mills look-a-like with the charm (rounded face and nose) and interesting facial similarities of Marie Antoinette."  That's it.  Dashing my poor Mother's dreams, the letter was placed back into its envelope, looked at a handful of times afterwards and (I'm guessing here) disposed of sometime during the multiple moves we made due to my Father's job with the Sinclair Oil Corporation.

Returning to our beautifully appointed room in one piece and several hours before our dinner seating, we decided to shower and refresh ourselves a bit after an already long and extremely busy day.  Having left Florida the night before, only to travel through several time zones and walk many miles afterwards, the cleansing water relieved some of our stress and calmed our minds and wandering spirits just enough to feel relaxed and whole once again.....

"Is that a fire alarm?  Where is that loud ringing coming from?" Dan asked sitting bolt upright on our feather-topped bed!!  "What...I don't know," I said, rolling over and reaching one pink, terry cloth ensconced arm instinctively towards the telephone resting on the nightstand at my side of the comfortable queen sized bed.  As my hand wrapped around the receiver, my eyes glanced at the clock near the phone that was seemingly flashing the time in broad, neon red lights!!  By the time my mind registered nearly eleven o'clock, I was saying hello into the phone.

"Bonsoir, Madame!  But, the Chef would like to know if you will be attending your seating for dîner this evening?  Your time is still available and it would be a pleasure to serve you."  Oh, how that sweet voice charged through my body with pangs of guilt, regret and total embarrassment because I knew that if we were to survive tomorrow, we needed to stay right where we were for the remainder of the night. "Non, merci mais, non.  Nous sommes très, très désolé." I choked as I heard a stern 'merci beaucoup' coming from the receiver before resting it back into its cradle.

"Oh, Dan.  We just committed a huge major faux pas tonight!!  It is highly rude to snub the Chef and his staff by ignoring dinner reservations." 

"But, we didn't mean to....we fell asleep, something we both needed," he said in an attempt to calm me down.

Even though Dan's logic was absolutely correct and we would have felt as badly about the situation if it had occurred back in the States, it failed to console me.  Setting the alarm in time for breakfast (we were going to be quite hungry by then), we turned off the lights, kissed good-night and submerged ourselves, once again, into a feathery Dreamland.


Route des Mares

Our View of Saint-Germain-en-Laye

The early mid-September morning was so delicious!  We had left several windows open and, by doing so, were now being serenaded by many birds living in and around the lush, green forest.  We could feel the cool, gentle breezes wafting in through the screens carrying along with them the earthy smells of ancient fallen leaves and the clean, freshness of the many flower beds.  Pure heaven!

We were ravenous!  After changing and getting ready for the day, we semi-packed our bags and then headed down to the breakfast room.  Now, I do know that guilt can be a highly infectious emotion that can do crazy things to your mindset.  Was it just me or, was the hotel staff refusing to look us in the eye?  I totally imagined the word had been spread around during the night about the two rude Americans in Room #14 who ignored Chef and chose to sleep through dinner.  I did feel badly and often think about our faux pas to this day.  We vowed from that day on never to pack so much in so little time, especially without resting a bit first.

Turning onto Route des Loges With View
of Chateau-Vieux in the Distance

 

Our heads were clear and a breakfast of strong, black coffee, yogurt, a croissant with jam and eggs with bacon strengthened our resolve so, we headed out for a morning walk along a beautiful tree-lined path just to the west of the hotel property called the Route des Mares.  I had read that this path would eventually lead us to a magnificent place and intentionally failed to give any details to Dan so not to spoil the surprise.  Turning onto the Route des Loges, we walked under the Tunnel de Saint-Germain and could see the charming town buildings nestled together to the right of us.  In time, the trees lining our walk thinned out and before us, across the formal gardens and a deep moat stood the imposing gray-stoned Château de Saint-Germain-en-Laye, the birthplace of King Louis XIV in 1638 and his home until moving permanently to the Grand Palace of Versailles. 

Quite A Surprise For Dan!!!

It was at the Château-Vieux (Old Castle) that the image of the future Sun King began to take shape.  He organized lavish parties and promoted extravagant fashion while introducing his political program.  He renovated and extended his castle with the French architect, François Mansart, and developed his formal gardens with André Le Nôtre, who created the famous Terrace for him which overlooks the west of Paris and the valley of The Seine.  The young king enjoyed the air, space and forest that he lacked while in Paris.



Heading Towards The Terrace

Sadly, the castle was not opened that day so we spent time walking through the beautiful formal gardens to the famous Terrace and gazed across the 'serpent-like' River Seine.  In the early morning light, The Seine resembled a shimmering switch-back mountain road looking down from the mountain summit to Paris and the Eiffel Tower far below in the distance.  Dan was pleased by the surprise!

We checked-out of Cazaudehore La Forestiere, secure within our little, green automobile, and headed back down the same roads that led us to Versailles yesterday.  It was hard to believe that we'd only been on French soil a little over twenty-four hours and had accomplished so much in that short span of time.  This day we were heading down the back roads to Chartre to tour the famous Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Chartre, purchase a white rosary and Bible in its small boutique for our youngest daughter's upcoming wedding day and enjoy a jambon et fromage sandwich for lunch at Bistro de la Cathédrale right across the street.  Ah....life is good!

Cathedrale Notre-Dame de Chartre

I often think about my poor knees whenever I am shaving my legs or getting a pedicure.  The small, white scars remain vivid to this day and pepper my knees, especially the right one, with what I lovingly refer to as permanent souvenirs....beautiful reminders of having lived life to its fullest each and every day!



Do you have your own 'permanent souvenirs' and, if so, where did you acquire them?  Do you recall committing a major faux pas towards traditional, local customs while traveling abroad?  Tell us your story of jet lag and fatigue. Was this time punctuated by an adrenaline rush, also?

Would love to hear back from you in my comment section!  It would only take a moment or two....


Copyright © 2014 By Jacqueline E. Hughes
All rights reserved