Part 3: Thursday, September 28
The journey continues...
After the sightseeing of Thursday morning, we got some lunch at a pub on the Royal Mile, which wasn't bad, but wasn't anything to write home about. It was too much, I think, in the heart of the tourist district, and tried a little too hard to be charming for the visitors. Thursday afternoon was more nap time in prep for the evening.
When we finally struck out for dinner, we stepped into the first place that wasn't completely packed. I forget the name, but it struck me as the grad student hang-out, very low key with lots of smart drunk people. And, luckily for us, their kitchen had closed about 15 minutes before we arrived, forcing us back into the street in search of food.
On the same block, two doors away, we saw Mariachi. It was a mexican restaraunt, and at first we thought they were closed because there was no one inside. But I tried the door, and it was open, so in we went. They were open, and Jacquii and I were the only two customers for the four people there to take care of. She got to mix her own margarita, and they served the best mexican food I've ever eaten. I assume that at some point they get packed, but I've found at least one other review of this place saying "excellent food, but a little wierd to be the only customers there," so I'm not quite sure what's up with that.
Anyway, food in stomach we hailed a cab for Cowgate. It was crazy close, but on the 'lower level' of the city, and we had no idea how to get there from where we were or, quite frankly, anywhere else.
The club we were heading for was Opium, a place recomended to us by our friend Josh for their absinthe. So we wander in, and the bartender tells us their out and sends us next door to Subway. So we go next door, and again we're nearly the only people there. All of 6 people were in there, including a very pretty lady behind the bar who asks us if we're sure we want absinthe. We assure her that we do, and she pours us a couple shots.
The stuff practically glows green, like the plutonium rod Homer Simpson takes home with him in the opening credits of The Simpsons. And the taste... my first thought was black licorice, only worse.
Anyway, a couple shots of the stuff and, with potential green fairies in tow we went back to Opium because, aside from the Absinthe and the bar tender, Subway sucked.
This is where I point out for those who don't know that I can't dance. At least, not publicly. When i'm out somewhere that's playing especially good music and i'm exceptionally drunk I do a sort of swaying thing with the music, but that's the extent. I bring this up now because, when I'm talking about the clubs in Edinburgh and I say "we danced" what I really mean is "I enjoyed a beer while Jacquii danced, and I enjoyed the fact that everyone was watching her because she was the hottest person there."
So, back in Opium, 'we' 'danced.' And then we went outside to cool off, and that's where we met Patch and his gang of australian students. Very cool people, and they were on their way further down the street to Espionage, and asked us to come along. So we followed them, and found a huge club - five floors, 6 bars, two dance floors, and lots of little nooks to just chill in. We ended up closing that place out, drinking and dancing until 3 AM.
I feel like I'm not giving this bit the credit it deserves, but I'm not sure what else to say. We drank, we lost a little of our hearing to blasting 80's dance remixes, she danced, I drank some more. There were Australians, and it kicked ass.
We did, ultimately, manage to find our way home on foot to crash for the night.
Thus endeth the second day of the journey. Leave comments. Tell me I go on too long. Tell me something. And I'll be back with days 3-4 soon.
After the sightseeing of Thursday morning, we got some lunch at a pub on the Royal Mile, which wasn't bad, but wasn't anything to write home about. It was too much, I think, in the heart of the tourist district, and tried a little too hard to be charming for the visitors. Thursday afternoon was more nap time in prep for the evening.
When we finally struck out for dinner, we stepped into the first place that wasn't completely packed. I forget the name, but it struck me as the grad student hang-out, very low key with lots of smart drunk people. And, luckily for us, their kitchen had closed about 15 minutes before we arrived, forcing us back into the street in search of food.
On the same block, two doors away, we saw Mariachi. It was a mexican restaraunt, and at first we thought they were closed because there was no one inside. But I tried the door, and it was open, so in we went. They were open, and Jacquii and I were the only two customers for the four people there to take care of. She got to mix her own margarita, and they served the best mexican food I've ever eaten. I assume that at some point they get packed, but I've found at least one other review of this place saying "excellent food, but a little wierd to be the only customers there," so I'm not quite sure what's up with that.
Anyway, food in stomach we hailed a cab for Cowgate. It was crazy close, but on the 'lower level' of the city, and we had no idea how to get there from where we were or, quite frankly, anywhere else.
The club we were heading for was Opium, a place recomended to us by our friend Josh for their absinthe. So we wander in, and the bartender tells us their out and sends us next door to Subway. So we go next door, and again we're nearly the only people there. All of 6 people were in there, including a very pretty lady behind the bar who asks us if we're sure we want absinthe. We assure her that we do, and she pours us a couple shots.
The stuff practically glows green, like the plutonium rod Homer Simpson takes home with him in the opening credits of The Simpsons. And the taste... my first thought was black licorice, only worse.
Anyway, a couple shots of the stuff and, with potential green fairies in tow we went back to Opium because, aside from the Absinthe and the bar tender, Subway sucked.
This is where I point out for those who don't know that I can't dance. At least, not publicly. When i'm out somewhere that's playing especially good music and i'm exceptionally drunk I do a sort of swaying thing with the music, but that's the extent. I bring this up now because, when I'm talking about the clubs in Edinburgh and I say "we danced" what I really mean is "I enjoyed a beer while Jacquii danced, and I enjoyed the fact that everyone was watching her because she was the hottest person there."
So, back in Opium, 'we' 'danced.' And then we went outside to cool off, and that's where we met Patch and his gang of australian students. Very cool people, and they were on their way further down the street to Espionage, and asked us to come along. So we followed them, and found a huge club - five floors, 6 bars, two dance floors, and lots of little nooks to just chill in. We ended up closing that place out, drinking and dancing until 3 AM.
I feel like I'm not giving this bit the credit it deserves, but I'm not sure what else to say. We drank, we lost a little of our hearing to blasting 80's dance remixes, she danced, I drank some more. There were Australians, and it kicked ass.
We did, ultimately, manage to find our way home on foot to crash for the night.
Thus endeth the second day of the journey. Leave comments. Tell me I go on too long. Tell me something. And I'll be back with days 3-4 soon.
Labels: England 2006, The Trip
posted by joe at 1:32 PM
1 Comments:
for all of you reading this, we need to make a little correction here. i met patch and his friends, while joe stood off somewhere in the distance, giggling drunk every so often, assuring me that he was indeed still breathing and conscience.
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