Chapter 3
We left our cosy little meeting spot in the middle of Leith Street and I led Alexandra up and onto the very beginning of Princes Street, past the magnificent Balmoral Hotel, and onto the start of the North Bridge. Directly above us, the sky became much bluer as the sun came out in full force. It felt invigorating to feel the sunshine so warm like that on my skin, especially since we were in Scotland, one of the mildest and windiest countries in the whole of Europe.
“So, you said that you only know three languages?” I teased.
Alex gave out a surprised look at my continued teasing. “Only three? Actually four, to be precise: English, Cheeky Czech, Slovak, and a little bit of Russian too, I must confess.”
“Ha, I knew it! So I was right after all.”
“Don't you know any other languages apart from English?”
“’Course I do.”
Alex looked at me with a surprising intrigue. I actually didn't know any other languages fluently as most speakers, with English as their first tongue, but I wanted to have a little bit of fun with this cheeky Czech girl all the same.
“Well, I know English, of course. And then there is…let me see…well, Scottish, Irish, Northern Irish, Welsh, British—which is kind of the universal language around here. Then there is American, Canadian, South African and, oh, the most difficult language of them all: Australian or Ozzie, as we call it here.”
“You're teasing me.”
“I am not. You'd be surprised by how difficult that Ozzie tongue can be to master. It's a bit of a twisty, tongue-turner mate.”
She gave me a look of great doubt, as if I was a little insane.
“G'day Shela. Let's put another shrimp on the barbi,” I continued in my cheesy Ozzie twang.
“Let’s not,” she bluntly replied.
Ha! I had to laugh. So she'd seen that movie, too. We continued to walk over the North Bridge with its magnificent and breath-taking views of Edinburgh Castle, Waverly Station, and Princes Street Gardens. It was such a glorious sight to behold. Simply stunning in fact, whether it was for the very first time or the hundredth, you could never get bored with the scenery here.
Suddenly, Alex stopped halfway along the bridge to the annoyance of some locals behind us who, I guess, all had some kind of love-hate relationship with these casually laidback, aloof, and seemingly ignorant tourists who always stopped, quite spontaneously and without any warning whatsoever, at the most unexpected of times. The enraged local would then huff and puff for a few overly-dramatic seconds with the utmost look of disgust on their faces at having to now make such great efforts to clamber around and side step the offending tourist-obstacle.
“What is that tall, gothic-looking spire towering upwards from those gardens over there?”
I glanced in the direction of Alex's gaze and knew immediately what she was referring to.
“That's the Walter Scott Monument.”
“Walter Scott?”
“Yeah, he's probably our most famous writer of all time. He wrote Ivanhoe...”
Alex shook her head not recognising the title.
“...Waverly...”
She shook her head once more.
“Heart of Midlothian...Rob Roy...”
“Oh, I know Robby Roy! The Liam Neeson movie?”
I had to chuckle as I couldn't tell if she were being serious or just playfully humouring me.
“Yeah, that's right. Rob Roy, the Liam Neeson movie.”
She smiled and looked satisfied. 'See, I'm getting good at your Scottish history.'
We continued to walk along the bridge.
Towards the end of the path and just as we passed The Scotsman Hotel, a rather tall, falsely-smiling, and very annoying-looking man quickly sprung into our faces by proceeding to do an extensive star jump right in front of us.
“Hey, guys! Do you have a quick minute to do my survey?”
Alex was about to politely speak and no doubt take the rather annoying gentleman up on his offer, when I quickly beat her to it with a cunning plan of my own and a really awful accent to boot.
“Sorry-a-no-a-speak-a the-English-a!”
I grabbed Alex by the hand and hurriedly led her around the still mildly-confused survey worker. We both let out giddy, little chuckles as Alex playfully slapped me on the arm. “That wasn't very nice.”
Next, we took a sharp right turn and wandered up the old cobbled street of the hauntingly gothic and ruggedly charming Royal Mile which, I explained to Alex, was a mile-long high street that connected Edinburgh Castle, on the western volcanic peak of the Old Town, all the way down to the Royal Holyrood Palace and Scottish government buildings at its east depths.
We briefly stopped outside St. Giles Cathedral to watch some crazy performers and brilliant street painters. It was actually the first time I remember ever stopping by here to watch and enjoy and really appreciate these quirky and eccentric artists and acts, rather than just hurrying along with my eyes firmly set forward and mind shut off like the other locals on my way to and from my daily A to B schedule.
Alex smiled from cheek to cheek, clearly enjoying the street performances immensely. From the fire breathers to the mad-scientist dude trying to escape from a straightjacket, they were all interesting and entertaining in their own unique little ways.
Finally, we turned left just after Parliament Square and exited The Royal Mile to take the foot path down past George IV Bridge which, of course, would then lead us to The Greyfriars Bobby on the right hand side at the far end of the street.
I walked with such pride now, proud to be seen strolling around the streets of Edinburgh with this girl by my side. Being with Alex made me feel so happy, bringing out the more playful and mischievous in me, that I desperately wanted to keep teasing her again and again.
“So how much are you going to pay me today for this little tour I'm taking you on?”
Alex smiled and caught the joke. 'What is the going rate here?'
“Well, missy, this time of year as we get closer and closer towards the festival, we're very much in demand, us more handsome and interesting tour guides, especially the really charming ones who know all the horrific, gruesome, and amazing secret facts about the city. So I reckon around a thousand pounds should just about cover my fees for a few hours. What do you say about that?”
“A thousand pounds, huh? Well that does seem more than fair to me, so please do point out one of these charming and handsome tour guides for me when you happen to come across one, Ryan. There's a good boy; thanks.”
Alex patted me on the back as I bit my lip and let out a mock frown. “That's funny, Alex. Touché.”
“But yours was a very reasonable offer. Although, I dare say, I think I do have a better one?”
“I'm listening.”
“How about a cup of coffee and maybe even a little piece of short bread to go with it?”
“Wow! Great counter offer there, Alex. I think you really hit mine straight out of the park.”
“Thank you.”
I began teasing her further. “So tell me, what's life like over there in Cheeky Czech land anyhow?”
“What do you mean ‘what is it like’?”
“Well, you guys have like electricity and gas and such, right?”
Alex grinned. “Electricity? What is that exactly?”
“Wow, so you guys don't even have the internet yet?”
I could see Alex was becoming deeply involved with her jocularly-naive character.
“Actually, Ryan, no, we do not. We are all still such primal creatures living a very basic form of existence in my home country. Most of us still travel around on horseback and carriages just to get from one village to the next.”
“Sounds like a hard life.”
“And in the more remote regions of my country, some people are still even living in caves, learning to create fire and surviving on human flesh when animals are scarce, just like true savages.”
“Hey, you just described some parts of Glasgow there.”
Alex laughed.
“Yes, so easy to confuse the two.”
As we passed by the national library I broke our brief pause with a more serious form of questioning.
“So, how long are you staying in Edinburgh?”
“Just two days and one night, to be exact.”
“Shit. Only two days. And this is day?”
“This is day one. And then tomorrow afternoon I will fly back to Prague with a five-hour train journey still to come before I reach my home town.”
“I didn't realise Czech was big enough to take a five-hour train ride to anywhere.”
Alex gave me a teasing grin. “It's not. It's just there are not enough horses to pull the train carriages up to a certain speed, you know, so...”
I had to laugh. I was loving this girl's feisty sense of humour more and more.
“Actually, I stay in a very small village, on the far east side of Czech, called Trebetice. So it takes me three different train changes just to arrive there.”
“Sounds like you live right out in the sticks there. Where do you stay while you’re in Scotland? Youth hostel, bed and breakfast?”
Alex rolled her eyes. “You really are an inquisitive fellow, no? Will you stalk me all the way home too and camp outside my apartment for the rest of my stay if I tell you?”
“You never know. Depends how bored I get, to tell you the truth.”
“Have you heard of couch surfing website?”
I hadn't and gave her a confused look to show this. “Couch what?”
“Couch surfing?”
I had to laugh as all sorts of various images of people surfing couches down ski slopes, in all kinds of provocative poses, entered my mind.
“No, I haven't heard of it. But please, do enlighten me.”
“Well, instead of paying for a hotel room, you log onto this internet website. Then you find the city you will be visiting and have a browse for people advertising their free bedrooms for you to sleep in while travelling around their city. Free of charge, of course.”
I gave her a sly and suspicious glance. “Are you just making this shit up now?”
“It's quite the popular thing to do, I assure you.”
“Okay, so you're staying with...”
“Three really sweet and adorable Indian students.”
I was taken aback, merely at the fact on how trusting people could be in this day and age. “Let me get this straight: you’re staying in a city you've never been to before – “
“And a country,” Alex interrupted.
“And you're sharing a flat with three, random blokes you just happened to meet off the internet.”
“Yep! That's about the ingredients of it.”
“You're teasing me again?”
“I'm not! I swear. They have a very nice spare room, right beside the kitchen, which they let out to travellers just like me.”
“Right next to the kitchen, huh? So they haven't got very far to drag you when they throw you into the oven and cook your carcass into a tasty Czech casserole. Holy shit! And you're not even a little bit scared that these guys might try and kidnap you away into some kind of torture-chamber, couch-surfing, sex-club hell?”
“Not at all. These guys have some very good reviews on the website, so I know they're all very nice people. I'm, of course, very selective about these things, I'll have you know.”
I laughed and shook my head. “They have good reviews. That's funny. You're winding me up though, aye?”
“I'm not, I swear.”
“You've seen the movie Hostel, right?”
Alex smiled and shook her head. Her eyes then widened with delight as she glanced towards something on the other side of the road.
“Bobby!” Alex yelped and clapped her hands in genuine delight. I swiftly turned, looking a little confused and half expecting to be greeted by someone she knew, perhaps one of her fellow travel-website buddies. Instead, my eyes fell upon a tall, pillaring statue standing all alone in the middle of the opposite street. The statue was of a stone-cold yet cheery looking Scottish terrier dog on top of a long, slim pillar. Alex swiftly made her way across the road towards it as I followed at the same pace.
“So this will be your famous dog then.”
Alex looked so excited to see the statue. In fact, I'd never actually seen anyone so overjoyed to find a monument before, especially one dedicated to a dog of all creatures. “Oh wow,” she gasped. “Thank you so much. Finally!”
“Why are you so excited to see a statue of a mutt, anyhow?”
Alex approached and began stroking the little dog's head. Oddly, I found myself becoming just the slightest bit jealous.
“Well, my father came to Edinburgh many years ago when he was just a young man travelling the world. And when I was a little girl, he would always tell me stories from his worldly adventures. One of his favourites was about Bobby, the friendly, little, policeman's dog from Edinburgh who never, ever, left his master’s side. Even when his master died, Bobby still remained ever faithful and sat beside his grave, every day, for years and years after. In fact, he frequented this area and the graveyard so much that the neighbouring shopkeepers took to feeding and watering Bobby whenever he appeared.”
I had another good chuckle. Was it too ridiculous to believe that this story hadn't been completely altered over the years? The tale of a hungry, loitering, stray dog that’s always trespassing the graveyard and pestering everyone for months on end, searching for food and water and pissing and shitting on all the graves, had been greatly exaggerated into a fourteen-year, romantic saga of a man’s best friend.
“Wow! That is just the most-delightful, little fairy tale, Alex. Just lovely.”
Alex seemed determined though. “It's not a tale. It's a fact.”
“But I love the way you narrate it with such ardent passion and belief,” I continued with my cynicism.
“Thank you. But I'm very shocked that you do not even know anything about him and you're the one who lives in this city.”
I smiled teasingly. Of course I knew a little about Edinburgh's history since moving here only a few years ago, but it's the same with most locals, on their relationships with their home towns and cities, from anywhere in the world. They know more about the places they travel to than that of their own homes.
Alex took a camera from her handbag and began clicking away at the dog. This was perhaps the one little thing which annoyed me most of all about tourists. Taking pictures of things, buildings, and objects of which better-quality pictures could be obtained from the internet in seconds. I just didn't see the point of taking photographs of buildings and statues to show other people, unless you were actually in that picture yourself. But everyone to their own, I guess.
I approached Alex and motioned for her to hand over the camera. Alex grinned and handed it to me.
“Now you go and stand by the dog while I take your picture.”
“Thank you.”
Alex approached the dog and made a couple of funny, goofy poses as she wrapped her arms around the little dog's pillar. I happily snapped away. “Beautiful! Just beautiful. And now, finally, some proof that you actually came to this city.”
“I have all the proof I need inside my head,” Alex replied through her gritted, grinning teeth.
I handed the camera back. She glanced over at The Greyfriars Bobby’s Restaurant, Bar, and Grill, which was situated a few yards behind the statue. I wasn't too sure if it was named after the dog or the graveyard in the background.
“So, will we go into Bobby's Bar, so I can at least buy you that coffee and shortbread as a big thank-you for all your tour-guiding duties so far in this afternoon?”
“I'll tell you what; why don't we grab a coffee to-go, since it's such a beautiful day, and I'll give you the proper Ryan-tour of Edinburgh? How'd does that sound?”
Alex let out a beaming smile. “That seems wonderful. But where should we begin?”