Our second day in Edinburgh started with slight disappointment: as it was seriously blizzarding now, we were denied entrance to the castle. Instead, we grabbed a coffee and then joned a tour headed underground, into the ancient vaults that form the "old city" of Edinburgh. There is a sprawling labyrinth of rooms and tunnels under the city, originally built as store-rooms but converted into dark, filthy slums when they were found to be made of leaky limestone. Our guide, brilliantly witty and malicious, told horrifying true stories of murder, rape, prostitution, and various other horrors that took place in these, the darkest of dark places. Although I am not particularly superstitious, I felt a definite chill being in a place that had seen such horror for so long. Surely, I knew, as did everyone on the tour, there were some remnants of malcontent still dwelling here. Several people had to be escorted out in panic, and it was far to easy to imagine cold hands gripping vengefully whenever we entered another dark chamber lit only by candles and filled with dark stories. Suffice to say it was a definite relief to emerge into the fresh air and be given some scottish medicine (more commonly known as scotch) which did a bit to releive the tension. It was true, not manufactured, terror, and it took us a while to shake it off.

But once back on the snowy streets, it was easy to be bright again, especially after a lunch of mexican food (a rare treat, we had not had ANY since leaving California and feel seriously deprived). We crossed the city to Carlton hill, at the top of which are several beautiful war memorials, including a tower, an obelisk, roman columns, and several smaller chapels. The view back over the city, as the clouds swept in from the sea and the sun set and the wisps of smoke spun out of chimney stacks was breathtaking and a bit haunting. The city is so unblemished and unchanged (very little new construction in the old part of town) and the castle towers so majestically over it all, that is does seem frozen in a distant time. It is reminiscent of London in the time of Dickens, Oliver Twist, and Mary Poppins, if London had never changed. The view was truly incredible, unlike any I had seen in England or even Europe before. We descended from Carlton hill and went down to the Scottish Parliament and Royal Palace (called Holyroodhouse) at the far end of the city. From there we climbed up a snowy peak, craggy with jagged cliffs but interspersed with paths, called Arthur's Seat. Arthur's Seat looks out magnificently over the city and out to the distant ocean, and we glimpsed it all as the suns final rays disappeared and the castle and then city were swallowed by the fog and darkness.
We walked back through the dark to Argyle, where we spent hours talking to the two Canadian girls (Lisa and Susan) who were also staying in our dorm. They had been backpacking all over Europe for several months and so had plenty of stories to share. We went out and, over some mulled wine, discovered how different and yet similar were these random travelers with whom we had been thrown together. They were wonderful, vivacious, and endearing personalities, and we immediately hoped our paths would meet again. But mulled wine is an excellent recipe for sleep, which is where we soon found ourselves.